First of all I want to send out my deepest sympathies and prayers to the family of JoAnne McIntosh Freeman. JoAnne was a kind, child-loving, friendly, happy-go-lucky, always had a smile, Christian woman who I came to know as part of my church family.

She will be missed by all of us, even if you did not know her I am sure that she has touched someone’s life that has in turn touched yours. She was remarkable.

_______________

Now I want to touch on a subject that seems to be part of the political landscape and is catching on in the rest of society. It is called dodging the apology or as I like to call it, Fonz-alitis.

Back in the 70’s there was the television show we all watched called Happy Days. It was a look at the 50’s and the personalities that were easily identifiable to everyone. There was the staight-and-narrow kid, the nerds, the authoritative parent that mellowed out and of course the cool guy. That “cool guy” was know as the Fonz.

The Fonz could do anything except say he was sorry. He would nearly choke on it as he tried to say he was wrong about something or trying to say he was sorry would just about kill him.

It seems that the politicans are doing the same.

A few weeks ago a Republican Congressman, Joe Wilson, yelled out to President Barak Obama “you lie” as he discussed his health care plan. An immediate apology was issued that evening and the White House accepted it.

Now a Democrat Congressman Alan Grayson put on a display in the House saying that the Republicans health care plan calls for people to “die quickly.” An apology was asked for and his reply went something like he would apologize to those who died and their families in this “American Holocaust”, referring to our current health care system. No apology.

Of course, the Anti-Defamation League asked for an apology since he compared the holocaust to health care – which in no way can there ever be a comparison. Grayson’s response was simple, he would not use that term again. No apology.

Despite it all, despite his show antics on the House Floor, no apology. Apparently he does not feel as if he was wrong.

By the way, despite apologizing and it being accepted, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi chose not to accept Wilson’s and the House voted to censure him. Nothing has been done to Grayson and Pelosi acts as if she has no idea what the fuss is about.

How hard is it to say you are sorry? Now if you believe you’re right then stick to your guns. But for the House to show no regard for fairness and set forth a double standard could be just one more lever pulled on the other side come next November. Americans will tolerate a lot of things, but two sets of rules for the have’s and have not’s will never be accepted.

So let me start a new trend here. If I have offended you or misspelled something, I am sorry. My opinion is just that, my opinion, but at least we all need to be civil about it. If not, then be prepared to reap the whirlwind you called for. That may be a letter, an e-mail or a lost election. I am ready, what about Congress? Senators? Presidents? local politicians?

I’m just saying . . .

 

P.S. – For those who feel I am too far to the right, refer to the first two sentences in last paragraph.

I'm just saying . . . James Cook - Times Editor

By James Cook, Times Editor

I debated all weekend with myself. That may sound crazy, but sanity is relative and some of my relatives have none so it should come as no surprise that I like to debate myself.
The debate was over what I should write about this week. What exactly should I express my opinion on this time? There was so much to choose from. There was turmoil at the middle school on several fronts, politics is always an easy target and of course I could try to find humorous things that have happened and play off those.
But I decided to actually act like a grown up this week. So I have two points I would like to make and then I will let others decide how they wish to proceed with their lives or opinions.
My first point has to do with the county and how are we preparing for the upcoming World Equestrian Games which are just a mere 358 days away. Sure, we in Powell County have no huge horse farms, but we do have riders and those who participate in horse shows.
But I was not looking at it from a selfish, what is in it for me and mine attitude. Nor am I looking at it from the why am I not included frame of mind. I am looking at it from the position of how can the county benefit from those games?
The answer is clear. Tourism.
Now I know that some believe that tourism will save us all and others think it is a waste of time. But it is the timing that will decide just how successful we want our county to become. Sure a bike race may bring a little revenue and some headaches. But what if the county, the cities and the tourism commission got together to try to bring the thousands of visitors expected for the games to Powell County.
I’m not talking about staying here; we don’t have that many available rooms. But tours, day trips to see the Red River Gorge or the largest natural bridge in the east; how about showcasing some of our talents with the musicians we have here, the artists, the craftsmanship and then maybe, just maybe we can entice some visitors to come our way.
Sure I think we need new businesses in here and jobs; of course I believe we need better infrastructure, we need to provide better opportunities and yes, I believe we need to do something quick. Face it Washington and Frankfort will never act as quick as we need them to. But the most important thing we need is a concerted effort to get behind a once in a lifetime chance to grab for a piece of the pie that will be in Lexington next year.
Other communities are already planning and I would dare say are ahead of us. But we have two things they do not – the beauty of the Red River Gorge and hopefully a community eager to prosper.
But if we choose, we can debate it, argue over it, and try to see what we can get out of it individually or how certain cities or politicians may get ahead. Or we can pull together as a community, a county, as neighbors, friends and families at least just this one time to make a difference for all of us and our kid’s future. You decide, but let us not wait too long or all we may be left with is stable duty.
Now my second point and this one gets under my skin. How can a financial institution remove American flags from the right-of-way in front of their business, flags that were there to mark and honor a U.S. Marine’s funeral procession route? This Marine died in combat, regardless if you agree with the war or not, he was still one of ours.
Their reason was simply this – they did not want to offend anyone by leaving the flags there.
Did not want to offend anyone! Who were they going to offend? Because if you live in this country, born here or moved here, it is that flag and those who fight and die under that flag, protecting that flag, for the freedoms that flag guarantees us that are most sacred. If a U.S. Flag offends you, then do not sleep one more night under its protection. Do not spend one more dollar, nor work in a country where you are offended by the flag.
The bank has offered an apology. One of their biggest accounts has withdrawn their accounts and others are following. Where was this you ask? In Gaffney, South Carolina and the institution was the Bank of America. You remember them; our tax dollars bailed them out.
Offended? Yes I am, not by the flag but by those who are too timid and too afraid to stand up for what is right. If we don’t stand up, who will? There is an old saying used by many others before me including Robert Kennedy and other notable speakers. It is originally attributed to a paraphrase of a teaching by a famous Jewish religious leader named Hillel. It goes something like this: “If not now, when; if not us, then who.”
So I ask you, when will we stand up and if we don’t, then who will?
I’m just saying . . .

By David J. Griffin, Times Reporter

Dating in the late 50’s and early 60’s usually involved more than one couple. It was almost a necessity because not every teenager had access to a vehicle. I was blessed to have my own “set of wheels” because of the generous nature of my grandfather, Eugene Stokes (Pop).
I learned to drive using the family’s 1954 Chevrolet and occasionally drove that vehicle when I first got my drivers license. Pop quickly determined it would be less trouble if I could use my own car and he assisted me in the purchase of my 1958 Chevrolet.
Living in Mt. Vernon during that era made driving almost a requirement because most of the attractions for teenagers were a considerable distance apart. The September 1959 issue of Seventeen magazine listed the following places as those that attracted teens: movies, drive-in theaters, drive-in restaurants, bowling alleys, skating rinks, pizza parlors, and amusement parks. How many of those sites were actually locally available depended on the size of the town.
Only three places on the list (Vernon Theater – Dinner Bell Restaurant – Kelsey’s Cafe) were within walking distance of Main Street, so most of the young people piled into someone’s automobile in order to frequent the other places of entertainment. I can remember one night having 13 friends in my car driving to Berea to visit the skating rink. It is not hard to imagine the fun we were having driving that 18 miles up US25 with rock and roll music playing as loudly as possible – and all the while we were singing along to the tops of our voices to the likes of Buddy Holly, Ray Charles, Dion, Elvis, and Roy Orbison.
In those days Mt. Vernon did not yet have a pizza parlor, requiring us to drive to Mama Mia’s in Berea to sample her Italian delights. Mama’s restaurant was my first experience with a pizza, and I will never forget that night. Six or seven of my friends accompanied me when we decided that pizza might be a fun experience. Bobby Joe Sweeney, Gary Coffee, Carla Baker, Dorcas Woodall, Marion Whitehouse, Sam Baker, and several others rode with me to Berea.
When dating, there were several reasons why we often doubled. Many of the girl’s parents felt more comfortable if their daughters were in the company of another couple, so it was easier to find a date if four teens were in the automobile. I can still hear the girl’s mother asking, “Who else will be going with you?” For obvious reasons, parents felt safer if two couples were in the car together.
From the standpoint of finances, the guys liked double dating because they could share the expense of gasoline, food, and tickets to events such as the bowling alley and the skating rink. Of course, in the 50’s it was pretty much understood that the boys would pay for the all expenses of the date. Most of us had jobs to facilitate the cost of driving our cars and for taking out the girls.
I suppose that the Valley Drive-In Theatre was the most popular place to take dates in the early 60’s. Almost everything a teenager desired was to be found at the Renfro Valley outdoor theater: the most up-to-date movies with our favorite movie stars were always shown; the food was delicious, even though there might have been a limited selection; the popcorn was fresh; and most importantly (from a boy’s perspective) once it got dark it was a great place to “park.” The Drifters reflected the correct perspective about that popular pastime.
Well Saturday night at 8 o’clock
I know where I’m gonna go
I’m gonna pick my baby up
And take her to the picture show
Saturday night at the movies
Who cares what picture you see
When you’re hugging with your baby in the last row of the balcony (Or the back row of the drive-in theater!)

Most of my friends and I double dated when we were in high school. Saturday nights found me and many of the following guys doubling up in my black ‘58 Chevy: Jim Barton Nunnelley, Lloyd Fain, Bud Cox, Gary Coffey, Sam Barnes, Marion Whitehouse, Penny Nunnelley, Jerry Hansel, Paul Daily, Gary Foster, and many others. It was the cool thing to do.
It was a time of great fun – simple maybe but it was a way of life for teens. We drove our cars and had some money to spend. We were seeking independence from our parents, and we were unstoppable in our pursuit of happiness. You can’t get more American than that.
(You can reach me at mtnman@mis.net or you can drop me a line at P.O. Box 927 – Stanton, KY 40380. I love to hear from you and listen to your suggestions for this column.)

I'm just saying . . . James Cook - Times Editor

By James Cook, Times Editor

I want to take some time this week to touch on a couple of issues and things dear to me, and then next week we’ll see what the wind blows in for me to discuss. So just bear with me.
__________

The fair has once again come and gone. There were plenty of activities for everyone and the weather was fairly nice for most of it. We got to see people proudly display their pets. Local artists, with the camera, the brush or with their “geen thumb”, held a showcase of their talents as well.
We saw some very talented young people this past week. The singing, the ability to play music, even the declamations should have been enough to make us all proud. The future looks bright around here, if we just can harness their energy and make it work for the betterment of our community.
The livestock farmers, goat farmers and let me not forget my favorite, chicken, were all on hand as well. It is nice to know we still have people who are still working the farms, of all types. That is what keeps America truly going – the farmers.
Of course, we dealt with a little rain on Parade Day. Not the first time it has happened, so we should have been prepared. The parade, though using a shorter route, was still nice. I loved many of the floats, in fact I loved them all. But I must say a congrats to the Powell Circuit Clerk’s Office (overall winner), the Clay City Elementary (school winner) and The Bowen First Church of God (church winner). I would be remiss if I did not say I thought the Parkway Florist float was awesome, I loved the hot air ballon; and the float by Bark and Bath Dog Grooming with the dogs which were dyed red and blue was great. The whole thing was great!
So to the Lion’s Club and everyone who helped, thanks for putting on another good show.
__________

If you read the front page this week, there are several stories that probably caught your eye. You know they caught mine and I will address those issues another time. But the story I am both happy we have and saddened at the same time is about Dr. David Gagnon closing his office.
As many of us know, he has cancer and has been fighting it rather well in recent years. In fact, he has outlived the expectations and has even increased his prognosis to be better for him. He is leaving now to take part in a trial study I suppose to help deal with his disease and I wish him all the best.
He has been my doctor for 25 years. I even had black hair the first time he treated me. He has seen me in good days and bad. He has helped me through illness and despite my not listening too well over the years, he continued to care about my health.
His demeanor and sense of humor was one that I grew to love dealing with. We’ve had some fun, usually at my expense, but it made life easier. I never dreaded going to his office, though the frequency has been more over the past 10 years than the first 15. I guess old age and not listening to him years ago has caught up to me. There were days you could tell he was having a rough day and maybe sometimes I didn’t complain about those aches or problem because they just weren’t that important, not when you watch him work on and continue to follow his oath.
Nevertheless, I am going to miss him. You see a family doctor is just that – family. Take care Doc and I know you don’t always agree with this column and I don’t always listen to your advice. But in life the only thing that matters is how did you touch those around you. You’ve done a pretty good job, so rest a while now but stay in touch because friends are hard to come by and you are a friend to many here.
I’m just saying . . .

By David J. Griffin, Times Reporter

For my entire life I have been a lover of home-made candy, and my grandmother Mommie Katie was one of the best candy cooks I have ever known. She did not make candy very often so when she did, it was a special treat.
One fall Saturday afternoon, Kenneth Hansel and I were playing in her yard when she called through the screen door for us to come to the kitchen. I first thought we were in trouble but she quickly explained that she wanted us boys to do a favor for her. She said, “David Joe, if you and Kenneth will go to the woods and gather me a large bucket of hickory nuts, I will make some old fashioned fudge.” Kenneth and I were very excited because we both loved her fudge candy, and we exclaimed we would go immediately.
She provided us with a large galvanized bucket and told us to fill it to the brim with the nuts. She added before we left, “Now boys do not bring the nuts back with the hulls still on them, I just want nuts not the hulls!” Kenneth and I were very familiar with the trees in our part of the county, so we decided to walk to the Big Fill Cave area where we knew we could find enough hickory nuts to fill her order.
We scampered down US25 until we reached the Vaughn farm and crossed the fence to the rocky road that led to the cave area. It was probably about a mile from Mommie Katie’s house to the wooded property near the cave. As soon as we reached the site, we began to survey the trees to locate enough nuts to fill her bucket. As the cool fall wind swirled around our feet, we picked up the nuts that had fallen to the ground. It took us about two hours to gather enough nuts. Most of our time was spent using rocks to remove the hulls before we dropped the nuts into her bucket. As soon as the chore was complete, we hurried back to her house with delight in our eyes.
We rushed through the kitchen door with eyes as big as saucers, and exclaimed, “Here are the nuts, Mommie Katie!” We thought our part of the proposition was complete only to hear her say, “Now you boys go out to the back yard and get a large rock and Pop’s hammer so you can shell the nuts for my candy.”
We looked at each other with a sigh of resignation on our faces. Kenneth said, “Do you know how long it will take us to shell all of these hickory nuts?” My answer was, “How bad do you want some of her hickory nut fudge?” The question was of course rhetorical. Kenneth loved her candy as much as I did. So we set out to remove the small morsels from the extremely hard shells.
Pop provided us with a concrete block and a couple of hammers to complete our task. For the next few hours, Kenneth and I hammered away at the bucket of nuts. Gradually, the bowl that Mommie Katie had provided us started to fill – and our muscles began to ache. Finally, the bowl was filled to the brim, and we took our prize to Mommie in the kitchen. As we walked through the kitchen door, I said, “The hickory nuts are all shelled, so how long will it be until the candy is ready?”
At this point, Mommie Katie began to chastise us about getting in a hurry. She explained that she had dinner to prepare and that it would be later that night before she could start making the candy. We of course were disappointed but the thought of her candy gave us reason to remain excited about what was to come.
Kenneth and I considered the possibility that the candy would not be done until almost bedtime, so we walked to his house to see if it would be alright for him to spend the night with me. His mother consented, he put some clothes and his toothbrush in a paper sack, and we returned to Mommie’s house. After dinner, we volunteered to wash the dishes so she could begin the candy making.
We sat on kitchen stools watching the Master at work as she flitted around her kitchen with bowls and wooden spoons carefully measuring evaporated milk, sugar, cocoa, butter, and vanilla. Mommie used the old-fashioned method of determining when the mixture had cooked long enough. I never did understand the “soft ball” test to see if it was done.
Finally, she poured the dark mixture into a large glass baking dish to cool. She explained that she was going to set the dish out on the porch to facilitate the cooling process. That was alright with us because our mouths were watering as we anticipated the fine fudge.
After a couple of hours, she announced that the fudge should be cool enough and that we could go with her to retrieve our reward. As soon as we walked onto the porch, Mommie began to scream, “Get out of here you nasty cat!” Pop’s barnyard feline had been walking around on our fudge! Tracks were all over the top of the glossy, shinny candy. Kenneth and I would have cried but we were too old for that. Can you imagine the disappointment we experienced?
The moral of this story is you should always protect your interest when working as hard as we did that day. I think Mommie Katie would have skinned that cat if she could have caught the rascal. She apologized and went to bed.
(You can reach me at mtnman@mis.net or you can drop me a line at P.O. Box 927 – Stanton, KY 40380. I appreciate your suggestions and comments.)

By James Cook, Times Editor

Once again the Powell County Fair is back and the excitement for the little ones seems to be growing as Fair Day approaches. I can still remember those days, though vaguely now.
I can remember getting up early on a day when there was no school, which really if you think about it made no sense, especially when you had to drag yourself out of bed any other school day.
We would get ready and either get to the high school because we were going to be on a float, or get into town and find a good spot to watch the parade. Perferably a spot where plenty of candy would come our way.
Then it would be off to the fair, pay for the arm band and ride all day. Sure the rides were usually small, squeaky, looked dangerous, but we didn’t care – we loved them.
The we would have to make our way over to the concession stand to get the famous Fair Burger. There was a time when there was no better burger around. They are still good, but maybe my taste buds have been seduced by the pizza and funnel cakes we see now. But I still have to get at least one of those burgers while I’m there.
And I know every guy reading this has done this. We would try to impress some little girl by either trying to shoot a basketball to win her a stuff toy she didn’t really want or need. Or we would show our skills at throwing a sharp object, say a dart, and win her that cool looking Aerosmith mirror, with writing so big, the mirror was basically useless. But we won it for our gals!
Especially on Fair Day, with all our peers present, we would show our throwing ability (of course the baseball team would do this religiously) by trying to set a record at drowning whoever was sitting on the dunking booth. If you were a teacher, odds were you were going down.
There were some who would try to sneak off into the woods. Some were successful, others were grounded for weeks. But the fair was a central place we all would try to meet and cut loose. It was fun.
It still is for the young and young at heart.
This past Monday night I was there covering the Pet Show and Talent Contest, or at least as best I could. Being in two places at one time is pretty tricky.
I met up with some old friends, we walked around checked out the rides, took in the sights and sounds of kids laughing it up as they turned around and around. Most of us quickly came to the conclusion that was not for us anymore. Of course the food was a totally different story. I even heard one person say that the prices are jacked up, but we buy it and come back for more. Why? It’s fair time!
After watching the younger ones have some fun and after finishing my assignment for the evening it dawned on me. The fair is what we make of it.
If we complain about the rides, the walk or the cost of the food then we make ourselves miserable. Now I know the economy is rough and I am not a Rockefeller, if you know what I mean. But with some wise monetary choices, I can still have fun at the fair. More importantly, so can my daughter.
She is at that age where the rides are OK, boys actually exist (Dad keeps an eye on that) and hanging out with friends is important. But she has enough of me in her that she often times just wants to be herself. She’ll ride rides others say are too lame; she will try to enter every contest she can and she likes those burgers.
I enjoy the fair. Sure in my line of work it is a nightly rush to try to cover all I can, but watching others have fun, brings back a lot of memories, Eventually, I end up getting back into the swing of it, though I may stay off the rides. I hope everyone has that child-like renaissance and enjoys the show. When we can no longer reach out and touch our past, remember the fun and be happy, we need to readjust our way of thinking.
I’m just saying . . .

P.S. – Happy Anniveray Christina, 13 years and counting.

By David J. Griffin, Times Reporter

Last Sunday afternoon my wife and I took a jaunt into our woods on Furnace Mountain, and I noticed lots of squirrel activity in and around the trees near our campground. Watching these little critters brought back lots of fond memories of times when I hunted them for dinner as a young boy.
Kentucky has three species of squirrels: eastern gray, northern fox, and the small flying squirrel, which is not a game species. Tree squirrels are the number one game animals hunted by Kentucky sportsmen. Hunters use 20-gauge or smaller shotguns or 22 rifles predominately to hunt the species.
My favorite shotgun is one that my grandfather (Pop) purchased for me when I was only 10 years old for the very purpose of teaching me how to hunt squirrels in the woods behind our house: a 20 gauge, single-shot Stevens. Today, I still use it first when I decide it is time for target practice.
As I have said before, I love to spend time walking through the woods watching all of the critters in the trees along the path that I myself created. The squirrel population usually spends most of their time in a region filled with oaks and hickory trees near the back of the property. Occasionally, I hike to the cliff-line and take a seat to watch nuts falling where squirrels are working feverishly to fill their stash for the winter.
Squirrels prefer older hardwood trees that have cavities just suited for their nests. The work these furry animals do in the fall is absolutely astonishing. Their feverish pace is something to see. Up and down the tree trunk they scamper, watching for natural predators in the vicinity of their nests including: hawks, owls, snakes, foxes, and domesticated cats and dogs.
This year the Kentucky squirrel season runs from August 15 until February 28. The daily limit is six, and the possession limit is 12. Pop taught me well when it came to limits for our hunting sessions. He maintained always that “We never take more than the law allows – and not that many if we cannot eat them in one sitting.” Squirrel meat, especially the way Mommie Katie prepared them, was one of his favorite meals.
As with any task she encountered, Mommie took pride in boiling the entire animal until the meat was almost ready to fall off the bone. Then she carefully removed the carcasses and rolled them in flour in order to fry them in a black iron skillet. By the time she was finished, the meat was so delicious you could hardly sit still.
My favorite time to get into the woods when hunting squirrels was just before sunrise. Squirrel activity is in full swing at that time of the morning. I found a spot in the woods along KY 461 in Rockcastle County in the early ‘60’s when Howard Coffee introduced me to it one Saturday morning, and it became one of my favorite places to hunt. We sat next to a large oak tree and waited for the animals to appear, and they always did.
Another place that I loved hunting squirrels was on the Brindle Ridge farm owned by Sherman and Mary Hansel. Their daughter, Mary Ellen, was a close friend of mine, and they never refused me the privilege of hunting on the wooded section of their farm. Sometimes when I pulled into the driveway early on a fall morning, Mary Ellen would accompany me to the woods to see how successful I was going to be. Sherman and my grandfather, Eugene Stokes, were very good friends—in part because both families attended the First Baptist Church together for many years.
When I left home in the early morning to go squirrel hunting, Mommie Katie made sure that I took a small sack of snacks to nourish me during the day. Usually, I sat leaned up against a tree waiting for sunrise. All the while, I was eating a sausage biscuit or a piece of cold fried chicken that she had saved for me from the night before. What timeless days those were.
When I returned home from one of my squirrel hunts, Pop would meet me in the yard to see how successful I had been. He always assisted me in the task of cleaning. He would have accompanied me into the woods, but he had suffered an eye injury a few years earlier, and it hampered his shooting eye. I think he envied me every time I left to go hunting. Occasionally, I watched him slowly walk into the woods behind our house (without his shotgun) looking up into the trees as if he were actually hunting.
Pop not only taught me the art of hunting, he also gave me the love of nature that is required to enjoy this type of activity. I suppose that is why I love spending time in the woods as much as anything I do. He was a wonderful teacher, companion, and father figure. I still miss him even after all these years.
Isn’t it strange how something as plain and simple as hunting squirrel in early autumn would make for such fond memories?

(You can reach me at mtnman@mis.net or you can drop me a line at P.O. Box 927 – Stanton, KY 40380. I love to hear your suggestions and comments.)

By James Cook, Times Editor

This will probably be the shortest column I have ever written. So pay close attention.
I wonder where this world is heading when the President, who should be able to speak to the school children, does so but then other political forces want letters from the children to describe how they can help their leader reach his goals. Sounds like an assignment other countries have tried in the past, doesn’t it.
I don’t care if he speaks to the children, but leave politics and letters to praise or endorse a leader out of it. They are kids and we need to make sure they learn their values and morals from us, the parents. Not Hollywood or politicians, though that was just an oxymoron as there is not much differnce between the two.
How messed up is this grand old country of ours? We struggle to feed the poor, yet want to spend millions to give health care to everyone including illegal aliens. How can you do one and not the other? Sure we need health care, but whose back are we going to break to pay for it?
One more sign of the impending apocolypse for you. We live in a land where they now hold National Cougar Conventions. That is cougar as in older women who prowl for younger men. They even crowned Miss Cougar USA.
Now how can we get serious about doing the right things when coventions like this and the Porn Convention get more media attention than appointed czars circumventing the Constitution.
I’m just saying . .

By David J. Griffin, Times Reporter

Summer vacations were never a part of my childhood in Mt. Vernon – basically, they were a luxury that we could not afford. As a matter of fact, the only time I can remember traveling out of state with my family was when my parents took us to the Smokey Mountains when I was probably four years old. Travel was considered an extravagance.
My wife, on the other hand, was accustomed to annual vacations, and so we have taken some sort of trip each year since we married. At first, our trips were modest in proportion, but over the years that changed. For example, my son Andy moved his family to Ann Arbor, requiring us to travel to Michigan just to spend time with our grandchildren. Now they are in Philadelphia, and we wish they were back in Michigan.
The grandest vacation that we ever had was in 1994 when we took a driving tour of Alaska. Our son Todd had just been killed in an automobile wreck two years before, and we were still dealing with the grief. The trip was another step in healing and trying to move forward with our lives.
Kathy spent almost a year planning the routes we would take and the stops we would make along the way. Until that time, neither of us had been out west so we naturally wanted to see as many sights as we could. Once our plans were complete (and with the blessing of the Lord – another whole story in itself), we notified our families and our employers that we would be gone for six weeks.
Our plan was to take two weeks to drive to Alaska, two weeks to tour that magnificent state, and two weeks to make the trip home. I must give her credit for the wonderful agenda she prepared.
We purchased a new GMC Conversion Van for our trip and, with the help of my friend Jerry Willis, I converted the van to accommodate some camping so we would not have to spend each night in a hotel. The trip that Kathy planned allowed us to camp for a few nights and then spend a couple of nights in a hotel washing clothes and catching up on the national news on television. It turned out to be a great plan.
All of the above is merely a preface to the rest of the story.
Before we were to depart, I was visiting with my friend Wayne Berryman, who owned B&B Auto Parts in Stanton. I told him about our plans, and he told me to come back to his store a couple of days before I left. I politely said I would be back and went on my way. He knew what we were going to drive, and Wayne had a plan.
A couple of days later, I received a call from him. He said, “Don’t forget to come in before you leave on your vacation.” I told him I would be there the next day.
The following morning, I stopped in and Wayne pointed to a large box sitting on the counter. He said, “Dave, I have been thinking about your trip, and I fixed you an emergency package to take with you.” Inside the box was every fuse, belt, hose, spark plug, and emergency item that anyone could ever possibly need. I was overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness.
He asked, “Will you take a tool kit with you?” I answered yes, and he added, “If you have the tools and the parts and you break down on your trip, I imagine someone will come by who can make the necessary repairs.”
I asked Wayne what I owed him, and he said, “When you get back you can pay for the parts that you had to use.” I had never experienced such a generous and wonderful gesture. Wayne could have made good-sized profit by selling me those parts, but instead he was demonstrating the kind of friendship that I personally believe one only finds in the “mountains.”
Kathy and I put 10,600 miles on that van within the next six weeks and never had to worry for one minute about what might go wrong mechanically with our vehicle. At that time, the Alaska Highway still had more than 200 miles of unpaved road. That road, as well as others along the way, was not easy on vehicles of any kind.
But guess what – we did not have to use a single part that was included in Wayne’s emergency kit. When we returned home, I took the package back to Wayne’s store and thanked him for his kindness. We remained friends ever since.
Wayne passed away from a heart attack on Friday, August 28, 2009. You know that old saying: “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” I am sorry that my friend Wayne is gone, but I have no doubt that the good Lord has already commended him for his kindness to people like me – because Wayne was a “FRIEND INDEED.”

(You can reach me at mtnman@mis.net or you can drop me a line at P.O. Box 927 – Stanton, KY 40380. I appreciate your suggestions and comments.)