Post by ScienceGirl on May 23, 2021 18:41:22 GMT -6
I’ve had a rough few weeks helping my parents through my grandfather’s final days. We are sad, but he was 95 and went peacefully. I just wanted to share the words I wrote about him. Some of you have been like family, too over the years. It just feels right.
But more than that, I owe gratitude for the ones who have helped me learn to be a better writer. As they read it at his funeral, I thought of how terrible I used to be and how thankful I was to be able to honor him with just the right words. Sometimes this experience is more about just a story.
“Memories of Papaw--there are too many to tell. Spending the night at their house, entertained by bluegrass music and oral Bible reading. Eating everything on my plate whether I liked it or not. Sitting on Papaw’s knee on a tractor for hours while he farmed--drinking no telling how many ale-8’s. Sorry, Mom! Plain vanilla cupcakes and circus peanuts. The smell of sawdust. Playing hide and seek with Micki’s imaginary friends in the smokehouse. Fresh green beans. Milk and cornbread. Cream candy. Sneaking into his car after church on Sundays so he’d take me to Winchester for Captain D’s fish. But mostly, I remember him telling everyone who’d listen how I used to run up to his gate and ask him to set me over. Even at age 45, I never outgrew that story. If he were here, you’d all be hearing it again now.
I chuckle as I think of the song, “I Did it My Way.” Without question, Papaw did life his way, and we all did, too. The most kind, loving soul on the planet drove us all crazy making us bend to his wishes, and we loved him more for it. Just like when Mamaw learned of her terminal cancer, and Papaw fed her Dairy Queen chicken tenders mixed with gravy. Every. Single. Day.
Without formal education or even trying, he was a far greater teacher than I’ll ever be. When he insisted so firmly on having things done his way, I think that was his intent. To teach us all important life lessons.
While nursing Mamaw, he taught us to take the highest-quality care of the people we love. Not just the basic things, but the kind of care that comes from deep within the heart. He took selflessness to a new level, living humbly and giving generously of his time, money, and heart. No one ever left his house empty-handed. Can we have a show of hands from everyone who has ever received a random gift, pound of sausage, vegetables from his garden, candy from his kitchen table, or even change from his coat pocket?
Papaw taught us that everyone is family, no questions asked. When I took Austin to see him the first time, he said, “Reckon I’ve got another grandson.” It’s just the way it was. And living his life in that way, he was never truly alone. I am grateful for the people who have watched over him, especially recently. What a comfort to know that he received the same care in his last days that he would have given to someone else.
He loved to talk about “that girl Judy,” and “your sweet mother Debbie,” and how much he appreciated them. He never called people by their names, so mom and Judy must have been extra special. Not sure if he forgot names, or if it was just his quirkiness.
My husband has always been “that boy you married,” but Lane had his respect. I played him a couple of sermons Lane preached from my phone, and he took great comfort in my Christian marriage. He loved Matt and Dana. They sang him songs sometimes, and he’d slip them dollars. But even with them, it was always “that boy of yours” and “that little girl.” A few weeks ago he said he’d teach that boy of mine (Matt) how to drive the bulldozer if he was ready. Goodness, no!
Papaw was born in 1925, and survived many devastating historical events including the Great Depression. His life spanned 17 presidents. Though he just missed the Spanish Flu by a handful of years, he can even boast survival of a global pandemic. There were years of blessings and years of loss. His grandfather was robbed and killed, and his father died after a long bout with cancer. All of his siblings have passed except for one, and she’s very sick herself. As a young man, he lost his brother, Cecil, and many friends, when they were stationed in Europe in World War II. Papaw never seemed to be phased by loss, not even when my grandmother passed away. It just made him work harder to serve others. By this, he taught us the secret to true happiness is to reach outside yourself and love people unconditionally.
I had the pleasure to read transcripts from interviews conducted by the Family and Farmstead Oral History Project through the University of Kentucky. Google his name and you can find the audio online. He described life at Cane Creek including his education in a one-room schoolhouse. You all probably know of his terrible hearing and understand how some of his answers were quite humorous. When the man asked him how long he was in school for, Papaw answered, “about three miles.”
The interviewer wanted Papaw to tell him the names of the some tenant homes his dad, E.C. had built. Papaw said, “We didn’t call them no names. It was just Cecil’s house and my sister’s house.” The interviewer ended up naming them Tenant House 1, 2, 3, and 4. Papaw never wanted to use that terminology.
One of his favorite parts about living there was a well beside a cedar tree. He said, “It was one of the finest waters you ever put in your mouth.” He mentioned their smokehouse and how they always ate salty meat, sulfured apples, walnuts, and dried beans. It’s no wonder he loved Captain D’s so much!
Of course, Papaw had to tell a story about me and my siblings. We were the “grand young’ens” who had to carry heavy satchels down Peck’s Creek every day in contrast to him not having textbooks or materials to bring back and forth. The poverty in the area seemed to weigh on him, because he referred to the children of the tenants having very little to eat more than once. Maybe that’s why he always wanted to feed everyone.
Papaw enlisted in the Army during World War II. In doing so, he only completed school to the 9th grade. Even so, according to the interview, he considered himself a lifelong learner. He served Powell County as a magistrate, and Cat Creek Church of Christ as an elder. He was a respected businessman. Many would have considered him well-educated in spite of his dropping out. Eventually, the school system awarded him a much-deserved honorary diploma as thanks for his service.
When the interviewer asked how Papaw learned the profession of sawmilling, he said he was still learning, even in his sixties. He applied this concept to all facets of life. He was a skilled conversationalist on many topics. For example, he talked about the hybridization of the seed corn he liked to use, and how the genetic modifications were causing a drier center. He came across more like a scientist with that one, because he spoke with such authority.
I think he considered his most important education to be his study of scripture. Papaw respected and revered preachers. He had well-worn cassette tapes of old sermons in his house, and he and Mamaw read the Bible faithfully every night.
He taught many, many lessons about the value of grit. Work came first, sometimes to his detriment, like the time he was repairing a fence at the Stanton Church of Christ. He ended up in the hospital having heart surgery the same day. So many people relied on him because they knew he would get the job done well and efficiently.
As he got older, this changed some due to an accident. A big limb fell from the top of a tree and hit him in the head. My family remembers this day well. We were so afraid we would lose him, but we should have trusted that God built him too tough to be taken down by a head injury.
It did slow him down some. After that point, he started valuing rest more. One time we were out helping with tobacco at Dad’s farm, and Papaw just hopped off the tractor in the middle of the field and went straight to his truck without explanation. Why? So he could go get the chicken buffet at the KFC. Work time was over.
And maybe that was his last lesson for us all. When things are over, they’re over. If you’ve ever spoken with him on the phone, he had that same bluntness. No explanation, just a click and he was gone.
He slipped from this life in the same way. I’m not sure he believed it was his time to die. He had more work to do. More people to serve. But God had a different plan, so it’s on us to carry on that service for him.
Papaw would have wanted all of us to be faithful Bible students, and to join him in heaven. But more than that, he would have wanted us to be active servants with a functional faith. He lived his Christianity in a way that most people never could, with an unwavering benevolent energy that never faltered.
I know this isn’t how it works, but it comforts me to see Papaw standing on the other side of Heaven’s gate, waiting for me to come and ask to be set over again. My heart is broken. I loved him very, very much. But there’s a piece of him left in all of us who knew him. My prayer is that we draw wisdom from his beautiful life and will all live by his simple example—to love God and love people.
But more than that, I owe gratitude for the ones who have helped me learn to be a better writer. As they read it at his funeral, I thought of how terrible I used to be and how thankful I was to be able to honor him with just the right words. Sometimes this experience is more about just a story.
“Memories of Papaw--there are too many to tell. Spending the night at their house, entertained by bluegrass music and oral Bible reading. Eating everything on my plate whether I liked it or not. Sitting on Papaw’s knee on a tractor for hours while he farmed--drinking no telling how many ale-8’s. Sorry, Mom! Plain vanilla cupcakes and circus peanuts. The smell of sawdust. Playing hide and seek with Micki’s imaginary friends in the smokehouse. Fresh green beans. Milk and cornbread. Cream candy. Sneaking into his car after church on Sundays so he’d take me to Winchester for Captain D’s fish. But mostly, I remember him telling everyone who’d listen how I used to run up to his gate and ask him to set me over. Even at age 45, I never outgrew that story. If he were here, you’d all be hearing it again now.
I chuckle as I think of the song, “I Did it My Way.” Without question, Papaw did life his way, and we all did, too. The most kind, loving soul on the planet drove us all crazy making us bend to his wishes, and we loved him more for it. Just like when Mamaw learned of her terminal cancer, and Papaw fed her Dairy Queen chicken tenders mixed with gravy. Every. Single. Day.
Without formal education or even trying, he was a far greater teacher than I’ll ever be. When he insisted so firmly on having things done his way, I think that was his intent. To teach us all important life lessons.
While nursing Mamaw, he taught us to take the highest-quality care of the people we love. Not just the basic things, but the kind of care that comes from deep within the heart. He took selflessness to a new level, living humbly and giving generously of his time, money, and heart. No one ever left his house empty-handed. Can we have a show of hands from everyone who has ever received a random gift, pound of sausage, vegetables from his garden, candy from his kitchen table, or even change from his coat pocket?
Papaw taught us that everyone is family, no questions asked. When I took Austin to see him the first time, he said, “Reckon I’ve got another grandson.” It’s just the way it was. And living his life in that way, he was never truly alone. I am grateful for the people who have watched over him, especially recently. What a comfort to know that he received the same care in his last days that he would have given to someone else.
He loved to talk about “that girl Judy,” and “your sweet mother Debbie,” and how much he appreciated them. He never called people by their names, so mom and Judy must have been extra special. Not sure if he forgot names, or if it was just his quirkiness.
My husband has always been “that boy you married,” but Lane had his respect. I played him a couple of sermons Lane preached from my phone, and he took great comfort in my Christian marriage. He loved Matt and Dana. They sang him songs sometimes, and he’d slip them dollars. But even with them, it was always “that boy of yours” and “that little girl.” A few weeks ago he said he’d teach that boy of mine (Matt) how to drive the bulldozer if he was ready. Goodness, no!
Papaw was born in 1925, and survived many devastating historical events including the Great Depression. His life spanned 17 presidents. Though he just missed the Spanish Flu by a handful of years, he can even boast survival of a global pandemic. There were years of blessings and years of loss. His grandfather was robbed and killed, and his father died after a long bout with cancer. All of his siblings have passed except for one, and she’s very sick herself. As a young man, he lost his brother, Cecil, and many friends, when they were stationed in Europe in World War II. Papaw never seemed to be phased by loss, not even when my grandmother passed away. It just made him work harder to serve others. By this, he taught us the secret to true happiness is to reach outside yourself and love people unconditionally.
I had the pleasure to read transcripts from interviews conducted by the Family and Farmstead Oral History Project through the University of Kentucky. Google his name and you can find the audio online. He described life at Cane Creek including his education in a one-room schoolhouse. You all probably know of his terrible hearing and understand how some of his answers were quite humorous. When the man asked him how long he was in school for, Papaw answered, “about three miles.”
The interviewer wanted Papaw to tell him the names of the some tenant homes his dad, E.C. had built. Papaw said, “We didn’t call them no names. It was just Cecil’s house and my sister’s house.” The interviewer ended up naming them Tenant House 1, 2, 3, and 4. Papaw never wanted to use that terminology.
One of his favorite parts about living there was a well beside a cedar tree. He said, “It was one of the finest waters you ever put in your mouth.” He mentioned their smokehouse and how they always ate salty meat, sulfured apples, walnuts, and dried beans. It’s no wonder he loved Captain D’s so much!
Of course, Papaw had to tell a story about me and my siblings. We were the “grand young’ens” who had to carry heavy satchels down Peck’s Creek every day in contrast to him not having textbooks or materials to bring back and forth. The poverty in the area seemed to weigh on him, because he referred to the children of the tenants having very little to eat more than once. Maybe that’s why he always wanted to feed everyone.
Papaw enlisted in the Army during World War II. In doing so, he only completed school to the 9th grade. Even so, according to the interview, he considered himself a lifelong learner. He served Powell County as a magistrate, and Cat Creek Church of Christ as an elder. He was a respected businessman. Many would have considered him well-educated in spite of his dropping out. Eventually, the school system awarded him a much-deserved honorary diploma as thanks for his service.
When the interviewer asked how Papaw learned the profession of sawmilling, he said he was still learning, even in his sixties. He applied this concept to all facets of life. He was a skilled conversationalist on many topics. For example, he talked about the hybridization of the seed corn he liked to use, and how the genetic modifications were causing a drier center. He came across more like a scientist with that one, because he spoke with such authority.
I think he considered his most important education to be his study of scripture. Papaw respected and revered preachers. He had well-worn cassette tapes of old sermons in his house, and he and Mamaw read the Bible faithfully every night.
He taught many, many lessons about the value of grit. Work came first, sometimes to his detriment, like the time he was repairing a fence at the Stanton Church of Christ. He ended up in the hospital having heart surgery the same day. So many people relied on him because they knew he would get the job done well and efficiently.
As he got older, this changed some due to an accident. A big limb fell from the top of a tree and hit him in the head. My family remembers this day well. We were so afraid we would lose him, but we should have trusted that God built him too tough to be taken down by a head injury.
It did slow him down some. After that point, he started valuing rest more. One time we were out helping with tobacco at Dad’s farm, and Papaw just hopped off the tractor in the middle of the field and went straight to his truck without explanation. Why? So he could go get the chicken buffet at the KFC. Work time was over.
And maybe that was his last lesson for us all. When things are over, they’re over. If you’ve ever spoken with him on the phone, he had that same bluntness. No explanation, just a click and he was gone.
He slipped from this life in the same way. I’m not sure he believed it was his time to die. He had more work to do. More people to serve. But God had a different plan, so it’s on us to carry on that service for him.
Papaw would have wanted all of us to be faithful Bible students, and to join him in heaven. But more than that, he would have wanted us to be active servants with a functional faith. He lived his Christianity in a way that most people never could, with an unwavering benevolent energy that never faltered.
I know this isn’t how it works, but it comforts me to see Papaw standing on the other side of Heaven’s gate, waiting for me to come and ask to be set over again. My heart is broken. I loved him very, very much. But there’s a piece of him left in all of us who knew him. My prayer is that we draw wisdom from his beautiful life and will all live by his simple example—to love God and love people.
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