Happy Father's Day

June 22, 2009 09:08 am

— Click here to see the June 20, 2009, Neighbors section in its entirety

Here’s our reader responses to the Times-Tribune question:
What’s the best advice Dad ever gave you?
Part 1: A good day in the fifties
By Jerry Parman
Many things have been said about life in the fifties. I think it was a good time to grow up. Life seemed to be getting better for most everyone, with the great depression, World War II, and the Korean conflict over, things seemed to be a little brighter and people more optimistic.
Many young people from our area in Kentucky were moving to the north, where better paying jobs and opportunities could be found. Things seemed to be changing around the bigger cities but things were slower to change in our region (Rough Creek community), Laurel County.
Cap and Granny (my grandfather George Parman, and grandmother Carrie Brock Parman) seemed to be happy with Ike and Mamie in the White House. Cap never trusted the Democrats and especially not Harry Truman. He figured Ike could handle the Russians and the biggest worry during this cold war was that they had the atomic bombs and wanted communism to spread everywhere. (I felt pretty safe in our neck of the woods, but one of my neighbors was converting his cellar into a bomb/fallout shelter.)
Cap would read the Louisville Courier-Journal daily and listen to the evening news with Gabriel Heater on the radio to keep up with world events. Some days we would listen to part of Mutual Radio’s baseball “Game of the Day.” Cap didn’t like the New York Yankees, said they had all the money to buy up the good players. (Some things never change.)
I was a big Yankee fan and Mickey Mantle was a hero of mine, so I checked the box scores in the paper everyday to see if he had homered again. Cap did have a lot of respect for Casey Stengel, the Yank’s manager, “Ole Case,” he called him.
People in our community still depended on their small farms, where they raised and grew most of their own food including vegetable gardens, pigs, and some beef. Granny also had her chickens for eggs, and occasionally she would even make chicken and dumplings. Tobacco was our cash crop and almost everyone depended on that money to carry them through the year. About the only other source of income was odd jobs and seasonal work.
One summer afternoon Cap,(who was like a father to me because my mother and I had always lived with them), asked me if I would like to go fishing. Of course I was excited at the chance, so we dug some big red worms from the barn lot and started on our way with no fancy tackle, just some cane poles and hooks, and began the walk to Laurel River, maybe a mile’s walk through the fields.
First we walked through the pasture field where the cows and horses grazed, with our faithful dog Skipper leading the way. On through the meadow in bloom with daisies and black-eyed Susans with butterflies floating effortlessly from plant to plant. We then crossed the fence and went through the hay fields, the cornfields, and past the tobacco patches where Cap had taught me to hoe.
Cap had taught me a lot about farming already. I knew about contour plowing, crop rotation, and sowing cover crops long before I had any agriculture classes. A smart man, my grandfather, he said one good thing about farming is you can usually take an afternoon off if you want to. (I was glad.)
We were soon off our property and crossed onto John Wilson’s farm getting closer to the river. I still remember the smells of the hay fields and the shady areas where the big oak trees stood. From the hill just over past our property line, I could see Chester Wilson’s house, which was the only brick house around our community at that time. It was surrounded by big oak trees. (I thought it was such a peaceful pretty place.)
We walked on past the Wilson house and by Oak Hammon’s place to the river. There was a big bend in the river there and it looked like a good fishing hole. Cap said they had also used this area for swimming and baptisms. ( I was thinking about catching a big catfish.) It was a quiet place and about the only sounds were the river running and the birds chirping. An occasional dragonfly (we called them snake feeders) would drop by or a water spider would be skimming across the water.
We fished for a couple of hours and I don’t remember that the fish were biting much, but it didn’t matter, because that couldn’t spoil this perfect day, a boy and his grandfather together on a summer afternoon.
A very vivid, precious memory fifty years later.
Jerry Parman lives in London on what was a part of the original farm that he wrote about in this story. He has spent his whole life in London.
Part 2: Words to Live By
By Doyle Bryant
My dad was the best person I can think of. He was the father of four kids - I was the youngest.
Sometimes I felt like my dad didn’t pay enough attention to me, but like my mom said, he had his hands full trying to give advice to my other brother and two sisters.
But he still had time for me as far as advice, when I asked for it.
Not only was my dad a good father, he was also a good husband to our mom and a good provider for his family.
His best advice I can remember was:
• Have faith and believe in God
• Love your parents and respect your elders
• Get a good education and prepare for the future
• Don’t drink and take drugs when driving
• Don’t drive fast and reckless
• Always think protection when out with a girl
These were words of wisdom that I have lived by, and now I try and use this same advice for my own kids.
My dad just wasn’t my dad, he was my best friend and someone that I have tried to live up to and make him proud of me.
Doyle Bryant was born in Harlan County and has been a resident of Williamsburg for more than 50 years.
Part 3: Cornbread U.S.A.
By Sally Hollen
My father told me to take plenty of trips to Berea to visit Boone Tavern Dining Room and eat corn sticks for lunch. That was a good idea since his corn sticks were as good as what the college made.
Boyd Hollen worked as a chef in the U.S. Army in Germany and other U.S. Army mess halls, earning numerous awards for his cooking.
Boyd, the Army chef, always used Three Rivers cornmeal. When I pass by Three Rivers cornmeal in the grocery aisle, I want to cry. I think immediately of Boyd.
On a Tuesday afternoon, I came into the kitchen and found Boyd making cornbread. It was Sept. 11, 2001, and the World Trade Center was on television.
Boyd said we were at war.
He and I listened until my sister and her husband joined us.
Boyd fought the Japanese in the Aleutian Islands, earning many medals, which should give a man with an elementary grade education dignity and self-respect, if nothing else does.
When I think of Boyd, I think of the Bible quote Joshua 1:9: “Be strong and of a good courage...”
Boyd had two brothers who also fought in wars. One brother spent some years in a Jewish labor camp in Germany as a POW while the other brother fought both in World War II and Vietnam.
When Boyd lived in Manchester, he managed a restaurant. He worked in a factory here in Corbin.
My father believed in labor. He knew there was dignity and honor in labor.
Every Thanksgiving Boyd made skillet cornbread dressing and baked a turkey. We also enjoyed the corn and green beans he grew in his garden every year.
Boyd loved his wife, Daisy, and his children and grandchildren. He died at a U.S. Veteran Center in Hazard, KY. He enjoyed going to the American Legion and the V.F.W.
Boone Tavern corn sticks
2 cups white cornmeal
1/2 cup flower
2 eggs, well beaten
1 tsp baking powder
2 cups buttermilk
1/2 tsp salt
4 tbsp lard, melted
Preheat to 450 degrees.
Brush heavy cast-iron cornstick pans with vegetable oil. Place pans in oven while oven is heating to temperature.
Combine cornmeal, baking soda and salt in medium bowl.
Stir in buttermilk, eggs and butter until smooth. Removed heated pans.
Fill 2/3 full and bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes.
Remove from oven and serve warm.
Sally Hollen retired as a ward clerk at Baptist Regional Medical Center in the early 80s. She is a 25-year resident of Corbin.
Part 4: If you really need something
By Sheila Bryant
James Click, my Dad, is a very good man. He loved us kids, Jeff, Dennis, Lana and me, and he really loved our mom, Colline.
We might of not got everything we wanted, but Dad always said, “If you really need something, I will try to get it after my check comes in and the bills are paid.”
My dad always told us kids never to lie or steal, because if we did and he found out, he would whip us, and we wouldn’t be allowed to do what we wanted to do.
Dad always said, “Don’t never let boys put their hands on you and never have sex before you’re married.”
Dad also believed that kids should never talk back to their parents.
And Dad always told us to stay in school and get good grades and don’t drop out.
My dad is not only my dad, he is my friend, and I love him always.
Sheila Bryant retired from the Williamsburg Schools Board of Education in 1995.

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