The Old Country Parson

Rev. William Cecil "W.C." Dunson (1901-1994)

 

 

In small communities where I grew up in West Virginia, the local minister often becomes an iconic symbol of leadership.  This stems back to the old days when for the most part church meetings were the pivotal activity of the week in many isolated communities, and in many cases, the local pastor was often also the most educated person who was looked up to in order to fill a number of roles besides just preaching, marrying, baptizing, and burying.  In many cases too, churches didn't have the luxury a lot of times of having a full-time minister, so in many cases the local preacher served a "circuit" of churches in the area that he visited on certain days of the month.  This was true of many denominations in the hills, in particular the Methodists, but also even Catholic priests had to serve their parishioners that way a lot of times.  The person I am about to talk about was a living testimony to those times, as he exemplified the classic mountain circuit-riding parson in his day.  

Rev. W.C. Dunson is a name that many people in eastern Preston County from a couple of generations back will know well - his name brings back a lot of fond memories to many of the older folks who did know him, and to this day he is still an integral part of the history of the area.  Rev. Dunson belonged to what was then called the Evangelical United Brethren denomination, and before I talk about him I feel a little history lesson is in order, as many reading this may not know much about this denominational tradition.  In around the year 1767, a revival meeting took place in a barn owned by one Isaac Long near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, under the spiritual direction of a Mennonite clergyman by the name of Martin Boehm (1725-1812) - it was at the time of the First Great Awakening when a revivalistic fervor was touching much of the nation then, including the Pennsylvania Germans.  Attending this meeting was a German Reformed pastor from Maryland, Rev. Phillip Otterbein (1726-1813) who had recently taken over the pastorate of the German Reformed Church in Lancaster.  Otterbein somehow received a dramatic spiritual awakening at the Isaac Long barn meetings, and at one of those services, according to an account recorded by Henry Spayth, Otterbein arose and embraced Boehm, uttering the classic proclamation, "Wir Sind Bruder!" which resulted in an outbreak of emotional joy in the meeting - this is historically credited with being the birth of the United Brethren movement, although it was not officially established until the early 1800's (Paul R. Fetters, Trials and Triumphs - History of the Church of the United Brethren in Christ {Huntington, IN: UB Dept of Church Services, 1984} p. 45).   The United Brethren movement later developed close ties, via its Great Awakening involvement, with the emerging Methodist movement, even adopting Wesleyan doctrine and spirituality from their Methodist peers.  The movement was also part of a larger German Christian movement in the US at the time called the "River Brethren," although a split happened early on which formed the Brethren In Christ, a Mennonite/Wesleyan denomination which in time identified closely with the Holiness movement.  Another group of Wesleyan-doctrine Mennonites in the 1800's called the Albright Brethren also were birthed out of the Great Awakening, and from them emerged a denomination in 1811 called the Evangelical Church.  As the United Brethren continued to grow, some issues began to arise, and one of the big issues led to a split in the movement in 1889 over the issue of membership in secret societies - the party that supported the inclusion of Freemasons into membership were called "New Constitutionalists," while the party that opposed participation in secret societies were called "Old Constitutionalists."  In time, the "Old Constitutionalist" party retained the name United Brethren in Christ, and are today still a separate denomination.  The "New Constitutionalists" though would undergo more evolution and in 1946 would merge with the Evangelical Church to form the Evangelical United Brethren Church (Behny and Ehler, A History of the Evangelical United Brethren Church {Nashville: Abingdon, 1979} p. 357).   Due to much common ground with the Methodists, in 1968 the EUB and the Methodist Church effected a merger that created what is today known as the United Methodist Church.  

That brief history lesson has significance for West Virginia for two reasons.  First, the Holiness/Wesleyan revivals found fertile ground in the West Virginia mountains.  Second, in the area of northeastern West Virginia, a large population of Germans settled, and many of them were members of the United Brethren Church almost from the beginning, as well as bringing in later a large number of non-German converts in the region.  In many cases, the United Brethren had a very ecumenical attitude toward other churches, in particular the Methodists (with whom they shared many doctrinal convictions), the Dunkards, and the Mennonites, as well as German Evangelicals of the Albright tradition.  My great-grandfather, Rev. Charles Judson Strahin, for instance was credentialed by both the Dunkards and the United Brethren back in the earlier part of the 20th century.  Many of the United Brethren in West Virginia chose to be part of the majority "New Constitution" faction after the 1889 schism, and later on many of them became EUB churches (and subsequentially United Methodist congregations).  My great-grandfather, as well as Rev. Dunson, were both part of that group.  It is at this point we pick up with Rev. Dunson's story.

William Cecil Dunson was born on March 27, 1901, near the community of Queens, in Upshur County, WV.  He met and married his wife Elva in 1920 in Oakland, MD.  Being as many preachers in those days were bi-vocational, the young Rev. Dunson and his schoolteacher bride supported themselves by his working at first a lumber store and later at the state hospital in Weston, WV, as an orderly.  After working a couple of other small jobs in the region, the young W.C. was called to the ministry and in the late 1920's he was licensed with the state United Brethren conference to minister a circuit of churches in Gilmore County.  It was in 1937 that the young minister accepted a call to the Terra Alta area, and he accepted the Terra Alta Circuit of churches which he pastored for many years while also supplementing his family income as a clerk for the Post Office until he retired in 1965.  He also served many of the local Dunkard churches as minister on several occasions during those years, and he was noted as being a caring, honest parson who got to know many of his flock personally.  (information taken from an old undated news clipping I had in my files from the local paper, The Preston County News, that commemorated the 48th anniversary of his ministry)

The old Pine Grove Church on Salt Lick near Terra Alta, WV, one of the EUB (later Methodist) congregations in Rev. Dunson's Terra Alta circuit.

 

My own personal experience with Rev. Dunson came much later, in the late 1980's.   By that time, Rev. Dunson had long retired full-time ministry, although at the request of many of his older flock he still conducted funerals and guest-preached on occasion.  He and his wife then were content with being members of Trinity United Methodist Church in Terra Alta, which at one time was a EUB congregation on Rev. Dunson's former circuit years previous.   I didn't get the chance to talk to Rev. Dunson a lot then, although a nonagenarian lady my mother took care of, Myrtle Masters, was one of his former parishioners and still really close with him, so he would come to the house to visit her on occasion.  What I did know of him though was that he was a very humble man, soft-spoken, but at the same time he had a reverence about him that drew people - to put it in religious terms, the Spirit of God was with this man in a way that you couldn't describe but just knew.     He was spoken highly of by many residents of Terra Alta, Rowlesburg, and the surrounding communities, and his reputation today is still a fascinating piece of the local history.  The church he chose to be part of upon his retirement, Trinity in Terra Alta, was founded in 1904 as a EUB church, and Rev. Dunson actually pastored it for several years starting in 1945 (History of the Trinity United Methodist Church, Terra Alta, p. 4).  Overall, Rev. Dunson's life is a rich legacy as well as an inspiring testimony of how God used a country parson to touch so many people, and his influence continues today.

Rev. Dunson passed away at the age of 92 in January 1994, roughly six years after his wife Elva predeceased him in 1988.  Although I never got the chance to know him as well as I would have liked, he still impacted me with his own testimony in a good way, and I only hope that the spiritual legacy I leave will be even a fraction of his.  Rest Eternal, Parson.

Reverend Mister Pansler

Rev. Clarence Snyder Pansler (1915-2000)

(photo courtesy of his granddaughter, Karen Pansler Lam)

 

I want to now just give a little glimpse of my early college years and first couple of years of marriage as I remember perhaps one of the most interesting individuals we had ever met.   I want to first of all give a little historical background as to our situation at the time, as God sent this dear man to us at a time we had a very real need, and that is why I wanted to dedicate a little something here to his memory in the best way I know how to do so.

When I originally started college fresh out of high school in 1989, I originally began studies at a little Baptist college in the panhandle of Florida.  However, an interesting thing happened on June 21, 1989 - I received the Pentecostal experience, tongues and all, at a little Pentecostal Holiness church in Brunswick, GA, during a revival that particular week.  Up until that point in my life, although I was raised fairly familiar with Pentecostal religious tradition in my family, I was a bit turned off by it due to my mother's gross misrepresentation of what a Pentecostal was.  By the grace of God though, I did receive Christ as my Savior on a chilly January night in 1986, and in subsequent years I threw myself into the Baptist Church full force - I preached, taught Sunday School, served on church council, etc. all before I was 18 years old!  But, curiosity got the best of me that summer before college when, while staying with my dad and working to earn some money, I began to get curious and warm up to the idea that maybe these Pentecostals had something good to offer, which led me to the Pentecostal Holiness church where I got myself filled with the Holy Spirit.  That experience rocked my world at a really pivotal time - I was about to start college at this Southern Baptist Bible school, and here I was beginning to do things like pray in tongues!  That, of course, eventually led me out of the Baptist Church for good and I began a long tenure as part of the Foursquare Gospel denomination.   

1991 dawned later, and that proved to be a somewhat chaotic year, as by New Years Day 1992 I was on a bus headed for California to attend LIFE Bible College, which was the official Foursquare school.  Things didn't quite work out, and as 1992 dawned life was a mess - I found myself back in Dothan, AL, without a dime to my name and being lodged with one of the church members in a small apartment just south of downtown.  Barbara and I were not married yet, I had an insurmountable amount of debt, and had to do something fast, so I went to culinary school for a few months, which also paid me a small stipend.  Barb and I eventually got married on May 22 of that year, and at around the same time I was accepted into Southeastern College in Lakeland, FL, and we made the move, leaving everything we could not load in our car behind as we bunked at my mother-in-law's house that summer (a word of advice to you newly-married young people - do not under any circumstances live with your in-laws after you are first married, as it can be testy!).  Any rate, I started at Southeastern that August, but my mother-in-law lived almost two hours north in Ocala and we had to commute - that just was not going to work!  So, we had to do something fast!

 

Fortunately, we found a place in south Lakeland that was owned by a rather stuck-up retired minister named Carrier, but again, we ran into trouble - we could only stay there a week, and then were asked to move based on mud on our car.  However, it was not necessarily bad news in that one of the first things I did when I started school in Lakeland was to look up the local Foursquare Church, and come to find out one had just started there on Lemon Street.   The church, Family Praise and Worship Church, was started by a former Assembly of God minister by the name of Gene Pansler, and upon explaining our situation to him, Gene put us in touch with his grandfather who just happened to own a nice little mobile home park within walking distance of Southeastern's campus.  His grandfather, of course, was Rev. Clarence Pansler, himself a retired Pentecostal evangelist.  Now, I want to tell a little about him.

Clarence Snyder Pansler was born in Ohio in 1915, and as he related his testimony to us upon first meeting him, he apparently led a pretty wild life in the late 1920's and early 1930's as he came of age - he was involved in bootlegging liquor and some other questionable enterprises, although he told us his folks were United Brethren church members.  He had a dramatic conversion - I believe he said he actually attended one of Aimee Semple MacPherson's tent meetings back then - and responded to a call to preach.  In makeshift trailers, he crisscrossed the country with his wife and young family, finally ending up settling in Florida.  His first wife, Blanche, later passed away in 1985 and he later remarried a sweet little lady by the name of Myrtle, who remained with him until dementia finally compelled her family to place her in assisted living.  Clarence and Blanche ended up having two children, Eugene Sr. (1933-2009) and Lois (still living), and it was Eugene who provided him with a host of grandkids and later great-grandkids.   Eugene Sr. later became the Vice President of Southeastern College, a post he held for many years, and many of his own seven children ended up serving the Lord in their own way as well - Gene, as mentioned, was at one time our pastor, and another son, Karl, is a prominent local attorney, while a sister, Karen, is an attorney in her own right and also has a strong apologetics writing ministry.  In short, Clarence has given his family a very rich and spiritually vibrant heritage.

 

Dr. C. Eugene Pansler (1933-2009), Rev. Pansler's oldest son

 

 

 

 I grew to love and respect Rev. Pansler, as he was a good landlord, a great spiritual leader, and a mentor to so many.  Unfortunately, at the time we first met him, he was already in his late 70's and began to have issues with the upkeep of the mobile home park he maintained for many years - he often called his park a ministry to the students, and at one time he even had a small tabernacle there where he held services and provided some of the Ministry majors from Southeastern a place to hone their preaching skills.  When we moved there though, the tabernacle was a storage shed, and the small guest quarters in back of it was rented to us as an apartment, which at $200 monthly was a good deal for 1992!  However, in early 1993, he sold the park to a Canadian retiree named Bill Oxford, and spent the remainder of his days at a small luxury apartment near the Wal-Mart on South Florida Avenue in Lakeland.  Nonetheless, we still saw much of him in the six years we lived in the place, and his daughter Lois was our ever-present neighbor across the street.  

Rev. Pansler had his own brand of wisdom that only an old-time Pentecostal preacher could get away with dispensing.  When we first moved into the park in August 1992, for instance, we got the chance to visit a lot with Rev. Pansler and his wife Myrtle, and he dispensed a little free marriage counseling to us that to this day I still can recall well - being we were only married for a couple of months at that time, he advised us thus - "If you ever have the temptation to cheat, just remember that all donuts have the same hole!"  A little crass to some more religious ears to be sure, but true nonetheless!  I also still have in my library a copy of Smith Wigglesworth's Ever Increasing Faith, which is considered a Pentecostal spiritual classic, that Rev. Pansler gave to all young ministers as his way of saying that an unwavering faith in God is necessary to carry out one's calling.  Recently, when meeting with his grandson Karl on business, we swapped some stories about Rev. Pansler, and one of the ones Karl shared with me came from his grandfather's twilight years.  Where Rev. Pansler lived at the Imperial Apartments off of South Florida Avenue is a large shopping center that included a Wal-Mart as well as several restaurants, including interesting enough a Hooter's.   For many reading this, no explanation of what Hooter's is noted for (besides its wings, of course!) is necessary, but for some reason Rev. Pansler would go up there during an occasion and have lunch.  Karl, a little shocked that his devout Pentecostal minister granddad would even step foot in a Hooter's, asked him, "Granddad, why are you going up to Hooter's?"   His grandfather replied, "Well, the wings are good, plus Jesus loves Hooter's girls too."  The "Hooter's Girls" got to know him pretty well, and it is said that he may have possibly even got a couple of them going to church again.  There are probably a myriad of these stories about this guy which could be told along these lines, but one thing is consistent - he was a man who knew his Lord, and served Him with sincerity and consistency for many years.  And, that was the man's spiritual legacy to his family.  

Rev. Clarence Pansler passed on to his eternal reward on April 22, 2000, just past his 85th birthday.  The park he once operated as a ministry has since passed into the hands of others, and nine years after his repose his son, Dr. Eugene Pansler Sr., joined him in eternity.  Both of them represented a rare breed of minister and Christian witness that sadly lacks this day and age, and hopefully some who had the privelege of knowing Rev. Pansler personally will be faithful to carry on his legacy.  I am also still fairly close with many of his grandkids, as many of them do live in the area still, and I know they too are blessed with the great legacy their grandfather gave them too.  In a way, I also inherited a small part of that legacy, as he was a man I looked up to as well, and there are thousands of people who could probably testify to the same.  Rest Eternal, Rev. Pansler, until we see you again when the time comes.

Little Churches

Well, here it is, 2014 already!  Boy, how time flies as you get older, and I feel like I am in a Star Trek-like warp drive now that I have reached the ripe old age of 44.  Some of those who are older than me may scoff at that, and I can hear those comments - "Aww, you're still a baby!" or "I wish I was 44 again!"  To be fair to my older friends, I will probably be making those same statements in a couple of years.   Any rate, I wanted to start this year off right with a couple of good thoughts.

Let's see...ever since I was a kid, I have loved church architecture.   There is something about a building that is designed to worship the sovereign God, and also the functionality of the church design is of interest to me personally.  However, I also love miniature things (except when it comes to saxophones, where bigger is better!) and inevitably the two penchants were bound to cross paths at some point.  Surprisingly, they did so practically on the back doorstep of where I grew up, as I remember as a kid this little tiny church that someone had built on US 219 South just outside of Parsons headed toward Elkins, adjacent to this large house that if I recall used to be an assisted living facility of some sort.  The little church did not have a name, and obviously no one carried on regular services in the little structure (who could fit into it, for one thing!)  but it served as a sort of holy place for local people who wanted to stop and pray, or just be close to God in their own way.  That mentality entails what we Appalachian-Americans would call "sense of place," which I recently dealt with in a theology article I submitted for an academic journal, and it also is the reason I write a lot of this stuff - "place" is more than just a geographic location, because for whatever reason it has sentimental value to the person who appreciates it, and it serves as a visible and tangible point of contact which connects to the deepest convictions of the person who appreciates it.  That little church outside Parsons back those many years ago did just that too.  As a kid, riding in Mom's car or with other relatives around town, I had passed that little church many times and in most cases never gave it too much thought other than something deep in my imagination stirring which for some reason made me appreciate it for my own unique reasons.  Let me share what the little church looked like back all those many years ago:

After several years of being away from my hometown, as I grew up several miles away in my early teens, I began to get a curiosity in my early adult years about whatever happened to that little church, as my grandfather now owns a house less than a mile south of where the little structure used to be.  I noticed on one occasion that it was no longer at the spot where it once was, and so I asked my grandfather about it.  He informed me that the little church was moved to Elkins, where it serves as a sort of meditation chapel in a garden of a local nursing home, but it is still very much around.  I was actually very happy the little chapel was preserved, because it was really too unique of a little landmark to just destroy.  Today, with some refurbishing, here is what she looks like:

Perhaps next visit home I may go see it for myself, as it would be nice to actually see the inside now too.

A few miles up the road is another tiny church, somewhat bigger than this one but still tiny, in the town of Silver Lake, WV, on US 219 North.  This one does have a name, as well as a story behind it, and it is called Our Lady of the Pines Chapel, the "Smallest Church in 48 States."  A popular local tourist attraction, the little chapel was built by a Lithuanian Catholic immigrant family many years ago as a sort of symbol of gratitude for the way God blessed them, and it has been kept up immaculately by the modern descendants of this family to this very day.  To access this little chapel, you go north on 219 past Thomas, and just shortly before the Maryland state line you will come into the small hamlet of Silver Lake.  If you watch for the signs, you will note them directing you to a small street that forks backward off 219, and if you take that narrow street back a little, you will come to the little church.  The doors to the little chapel are always open, and I understand that Masses are even held there, as well as weddings and other services (many people like having weddings in places like this, as it makes the experience extra memorable).  I have visited the chapel several times, and it is always a neat experience to do so.

Our Lady of the Pines Chapel, Silver Lake, WV

 

Altar area

 

The directional sign of the little church

 

As far as little churches go, it is not the smallest (despite the well-intentioned claim!) as there are many other tiny chapels that would make this one look like Notre Dame, but it is still definitely a tiny chapel that is worth your while to visit if you are in the immediate area.  However, I have visited one smaller in my youth, and now to tell you a little about that one.

 

Back when I was but 2 or 3 years old, as you may know, my parents divorced.  I of course spent most of my life in West Virginia with my mother, but I did get to visit Dad on occasion too, who lived in Brunswick, GA.  While in Brunswick, I had gotten to see a number of neat things  - the historic landmarks on St. Simons Island, the beautiful Atlantic beaches on Jekyll Island, and the pristine Okeefenokee Swamp a short distance away.   However, if one travels up US 17 heading north towards the town of Darien, there is a sign along the road which heralds "The Smallest Church in the US," and to get to it you have to turn right off US 17 and go out a short narrow palmetto and Spanish moss-draped sand road to it's location.  The little church is called Christ Chapel, and at only 10' x 15' it actually makes Our Lady of the Pines look huge!  Although built like an Anglican chapel, it is considered a nondenominational shrine for curious tourists as well as devout Christian motorists just needing a place to pray as they proceed on their travels.  And, like Our Lady of the Pines, I have visited this one many times over several years, and it is still fascinating to visit it even today, although at present it has been over 20 years since I had last been in that part of the country.  

Christ Chapel, off US 17 near Darien, GA

 

The interior and altar of Christ Chapel, Darien, GA

 

 

One of these days I will have to research into the full story behind this little chapel, as I have it somewhere in my memoirs but need to dig it up.  

 

There are other unique little churches I would like to visit but may not be able to for some time.  One of them is a tiny little church that a group of young teens put together in rural Virginia, and represents their love of the serpent-handling tradition.  The kids call the little church "Poor Valley Pentecostal Holiness Church," and from the outside it looks like a dilapidated outhouse although the kids have admittedly done a fantastic job making it look like a church.  It is even replete with its own "parishioner," a doll in Holiness dress they call "Sister" something.  The kids actually look like they are pretty devout, and even have a website for their little church at   https://sites.google.com/site/pvphc777/home that is worth a look.  

This is one photo of the little building called the Poor Valley Church

 

A side view of the little structure

 

This young fellow, Brandon Campbell, is listed as the "pastor" of the little church

 

A map actually has them listed near Rose Hill, VA, in a very remote area at the extreme western tail of the state near the Kentucky border.   I am not certain if these kids actually believe they have a real church (perhaps they do!) or if this is just a group of country pre-teens playing church - if it is the latter, there are worse things they could be doing, so to me they are pretty decent kids if they want to emulate churchfolk, so no harm done regardless.  It would be something neat to visit though and just talk with the kids about, because somehow they had good upbringing to undertake an endeavor like this, whatever their reasoning for it.  And, it looks like they believe in some ministry of some sort, as their website takes prayer requests too.  Any rate, they have gotten me curious about them, and I am interested in learning more about these remarkable young people.

I hope this lighthearted tour of small chapels I have either visited or have learned of over the years has been something you have enjoyed reading, and soon I will be back with some more reading material for you.  However, I may not be able to visit as often, as my graduate studies with Franciscan University, as well as church business and other things, have been keeping me pretty occupied the past few weeks.  However, although I may not be home here a lot, you are always welcome to visit my virtual "front porch," and feel free to do so.  God bless until next time. 

 

 

 

 

 

Year-End Musings and Ponderings

It is hard to imagine that 2013 is on the verge of wrapping up, and what a year it has been too!  In many respects, I am glad it is over, and am anticipating a good year in 2014. 

There are a lot of things that have happened this year which have formulated my perspectives as I share them here, and as I share them, I cannot help but think of how each of our lives is a microcosm of what happens in the society as a whole, especially with some crazy stuff our government is doing this past year.  We'll touch on that briefly later, but for now I want to review life in 2013 in our house, as in many aspects it was good, challenging, and at times a little uncertain, but by God's grace we made it through.

1.  Society and My Response

This has been one of those challenging years on many counts, and it has impacted me just like it has many.  Most of it has to do with what is going on in society on a larger scale, because what happens on a large scale affects us as individuals on a small scale, whether we accept it or not.  The Occupant in the White House (I don't see Obama as a legitimate President, sorry!) and his friends at the lower echelons of authority have been doing some crazy stuff, some of which doesn't make any sense whatsoever.   For instance, kids are now being punished in school for some pretty stupid things - eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, etc.  I even heard recently of one 6-year-old in Colorado being labeled as a "sexual harasser" because he gave a little girl classmate an innocent kiss on the hand.  Another kid I heard about was suspended for opening the door for a girl classmate too.  Yet another, a young Black teenager, was expelled for giving his teacher an innocent hug!    Yet, I don't see anything being done with the Muslim terrorist who tried to molest a horse - the gay-rights nuts would say on that one that "love is love," yet they are idiots anyway so who cares what they define as "love."  And, this whole "gay marriage" issue - I am about to get myself into some big trouble with what I am about to say, but it has to be said.  Just this past week, a Christian business owner who has a bakery was penalized by an activist Federal judge because he refused to make a wedding cake for a gay couple.  To begin with, this guy is an independent private business owner, and as such he has a right to refuse service to anyone because it is his business.  Secondly, it is obvious that some of these nasty gays want to just stir up trouble, because the simplest solution would have been for them to go elsewhere.  On that, I have a disagreement with some of my well-meaning libertarian friends in that they say the "gay rights" crowd will supposedly respect businesses and churches that don't agree with their positions and leave them alone, but what this situation with the bakery demonstrates is that there is a method to their madness - they are not about just "marriage equality" or "equal rights," but rather they are trying to ramrod an agenda down the throats of every American.  No one - not even devout Christians - is saying gays cannot be gay; as reprehensible as the lifestyle is, it is not up to us to force them to live differently, and no Christian would say that.  The problem is that the gay community often doesn't want to reciprocate the courtesy - they are trying to force their lifestyle preferences on us, while at the same time saying that those who don't agree with it are "bigots" and other such perjorative names they call us.  Which leads to a third observation - as far as I can tell, gays are not a race or ethnic group, but rather a group which engages in a behavioral lifestyle.   Therefore, they are not a minority, and in many cases, they live lives just like everyone else, so what is the problem?  Gays have the same freedom of speech, they can work good jobs and get good salaries, and last I heard there are not frenzied mobs breaking into their bedrooms either.  They can also vote, shop at the same stores, eat in the same restaurants, use the same services, etc., that everyone else can, so I find it perplexing as to why they think they have "discrimination."   It might also be enlightening to some people that Christians are as against bullying gays and others as any decent human being would be - bullying of any sort is wrong, period.  And, it is always wrong to go "whipping up" on anyone just because you don't like how they look or what they do.  The "gay lifestyle" is something I believe to be wrong, and it is contrary to both human nature and Biblical principles.  And, I also don't think gays (or anyone else for that matter) are entitled to "special treatment," nor do I think they have a "right" to marry each other either - marriage is a sacramental union, not an entitlement.  However, just like with any sinners, gays need Jesus Christ in their lives, and our witness to them as Christians is to treat them with dignity as fellow human beings, but at the same time pray for their salvation and deliverance.  If that makes me a "bigot," then so be it - however, it seems to me that those who are on the "gay rights" bandwagon are oftentimes more bigoted and intolerant of their opponents than their opponents are of them, and that is where the change needs to take place. 

Now, let us turn attention to the economy.   I had issues this year with employment, and in large part it is due to Obama - he has literally wrecked the economy, and many of us who simply want to support our families and maintain a good quality of life have suffered for it.  Over-regulation and other bureaucratic craziness has stifled even the self-sustaining efforts of some - you have government bullies (aided by nosy, meddling HOA's in some communities) going in and tearing up people's vegetable gardens and other such stuff, and they are now even going after kids for selling lemonade!  It is getting ridiculous.  The garden issue happened in Miami recently when some nosy neighbors ragged on a family for growing a small vegetable plot in their front yard, and the government dealt harsh and nasty with that family - really, tomatoes are now a threat to people??   Other forms of self-sufficiency have been attacked as well, and it is getting harder to pursue the fabled "American Dream" because the US government and its lackeys are creating nightmares!  There are good organizations out there, such as the Institute for Justice, which are fighting against this bullying, but much needs to be done yet.  Then, you have the MacDonald's crowd - employees there are now trying to demand that they get paid $15/hour to flip burgers!  I have a BA degree, and I have only made that much in my whole working career one time; for the most part, I am happy if I can get $10 or $12 hourly!  Yet, these burger-flippers - a job taking minimal effort and skill, I might add - think they should get more than a degreed professional??   Many of our combat-weary troops overseas don't even make that kind of cash, and they could use it more because what they are doing is much more important.  There are some thoughts on this I will share now.  First, if you are working fast-food joints as a life career, you are a sad individual - while on one hand it is commendable that you are at least earning a paycheck, maybe you need to re-evaluate your career choices; go to community college or something and learn a real trade.  Reason is that burger joints and the jobs they entail are for transitioning purposes - they are for either teenagers earning a little spending money, retirees wanting to do something useful, or for those a little down on their luck to get back on their feet so that they can find a permanent and more appropriate job later.  Burger joints, unless one is a stockholder, are not meant to be career choices.   Secondly,  if MacDonald's or any other fast-food chain actually takes this seriously, it would be economic suicide - income would have to be generated to pay those outrageous salaries, and that would mean a price increase in their product.  First off, I hate burgers personally, but for those that like them, I don't think that potentially paying $10 for a Big Mac would be worth the cost - you can get a much better meal at the Golden Corral for much cheaper.  Fast food is just not that great, and it's meant to be cheap because its quality is not the best - people are not going to pay outrageous amounts for a substandard product, simple as that.  Therefore, if burger-flippers end up being paid more than an entry-level secretary makes, the secretary who makes less may eat elsewhere, simple as that.  Plus, there are much better options - the small Mom-and-Pop places oftentimes have better food than these large chains, and the upside is that they would benefit from a dumb move like that.  Anyway, that is just me.

More could be said - much more actually, as I haven't even gotten to Obamacare; oy! - but we'll leave it at that.

2.  Record-Collecting and Hobbies

Due to limited resources, I have not actually been at liberty to purchase as many CD's this year as I have in years past, but we did manage to get some good stuff this year anyway.   Some of the primary material we have gotten has been Western Swing and polka recordings, and the combination of those at the end of our 2012-2013 anniversary year on October 1st was 1176 CD's, 89 DVD's, and 898 vinyl LP recordings.  This is the first year in several actually that I have had no vinyl purchases, but that is fine because I have practically all I am looking for at the current time.  Large purchases this year have been minimal as well, consisting of some good vintage polka collections of the orchestras of Romy Gosz and Al Grebnick, as well as a 5-CD collection of Western Swing pioneer Milton Brown and his Musical Brownies.   I have tried to focus this past year on tying up some loose ends in the collection, as there were several things from individual artists directly I wanted to obtain and did - among those are polka bands such as Orv Konop and Duffy Belorad, modern Western Swing groups such as the Quebe Sisters and Hot Club of Cowtown, and a few vintage big band recordings including Glen Law's orchestra from Illinois.  The real find this year though was of one of my favorite big dance bands which finally is available on disc - Johnny Green's vintage recordings of the 1930's.  Thanks to my friends the Dodds in Australia and their company Crystal Stream, we were able to obtain that one.  I also have now gotten my own CD recorder, and am in the process of creating my own CD's of some LP collections which have no chance of ever being reissued due to their rarity.  Additionally, I have been able to access entire albums of material online - Peter Duchin's vintage recordings from his early 1960's Deccas, for one - and have made CD's of those.  I see this as a trend later on too, because I have figured this would be a great way to get some albums on CD that either will never have the privelege of a professional reissue, or perhaps the copies of LP's I have may have defects and scratches, therefore not allowing for quality self-made recordings.

In the coming year, there will be less purchases of CD's because there simply isn't that much left to get - I am at a point in my collection where I have the library I have always wanted, and there is relatively little out there I need to purchase.  However, I must always keep my eyes open for new releases, as they will happen, and we are at a place now to where we can add them almost as soon as they become available. 

3.  Organization

This has been a year of finishing a lot of projects as well - I finished a theological book I have been working on for about 10 years, and now have a desk and computer of my own in my home office to organize things the way I have needed to.  This includes getting a system refined for all my paperwork, and an ongoing organizational effort to make things more easily accessible.

4.  Other Projects

The addition of a CD recorder has also facilitated organization and conversion of my other music and material onto discs, and it is good to finally be able to listen to some great music, both sacred and secular, that I only had on cassette and haven't been able to listen to in years.  The demise of the cassette tape is honestly one of the biggest blessings I can say was ever conceived, because although cassettes were cheap, they were totally inadequate for preserving material that you wanted to keep.  The compact disc is a much better invention for doing that, and I am so thankful to be able to get a lot of my old material onto disc.  And, what material it was too - old cassette recordings of Assyrian and Armenian ethnic music, some Israeli folk music from years back I had on LP, and a lot of my Christian music that is largely unavailable on CD professionally but I had on cassette and LP.   Many of those cassettes I had were part of memories too - you know how some music, etc., reflects different periods of one's life, and they become a part of your legacy personally.  So it is with so many things I have here too.  Which leads into the second ongoing project I have had for some years now.

As funds made it more possible, since around 2004 I have been on a journey of sorts to rediscover my past as I put together my life story.   Our years in Largo had really contributed much to that rediscovery, as I had gotten a lot of books and other things during that time which were part of what I call my legacy.  That has continued into the past year as well, and 2013 has its benefits in that regard.  The good thing about much of this is that it didn't cost a dime, because much of it involved photos and other things I could access via the internet.  The continuing project is to take these things, organize them accordingly, and make them accessible, which is now the system I have in place.  I am sure more of that will come in the following year as well too.


5.  What's Ahead for 2014

Due to some limitations beyond my control, a lot of 2014 is still pretty much up in the air at the present time.  I did transfer schools from Southeastern University to Franciscan University of Steubenville, which means my graduate studies will continue with the exception of a 4-month interruption between this past September and now (December).  With continued graduate studies, I will not have the liberty to write quite as much, but still will continue all my articles.  As for this page, I think it is time to continue something I have started, and that is writing about people who I have known over the years and who have impacted me the most.  Also, some other material, as I venture into the virtual archives of my own memories - my brief tenure selling Grit papers, for instance, when I was a kid, as well as some similar and more specific childhood memories.  As much as politics and social issues get my attention, I want to try to keep Creative Side somewhat light in tone, because all of us know what is wrong with society and we cannot constantly dwell on those things but rather must keep alive the legacies God gave us.  A similar emphasis will be undertaken in my Sacramental Present Truths articles too, which will be focused in the coming year more upon things such as the "Six-Fold Ecclesiology" that will be the skeleton of my future MTS thesis work, as well as developing and formulating a sort of Appalachian Christian Theology too.  Recipes and restaurant reviews on David's Kitchen will be added as they happen, as there is no agenda for those.

I really hope that the articles I publish here will be material that inspires, on occasion entertains, and most importantly informs you, as it is my way of having a virtual "front porch" to talk, reminisce, and even share an occasional serving of BS when needed.  And, I hope that each and every one reading this will have a blessed holiday season, and let us not forget the One for whom we celebrate it either.  God bless, and will see you in 2014!

The Friendly Town Wino

Do any of you reading this recall the old episodes of The Andy Griffith Show?  If so, you will remember one of the most endearing characters was Otis, the town wino who used to often stay on Andy's jail overnight as sort of a motel more than a punishment.  One of the nice things about small towns is that even those with alcohol problems are often shown compassion by the local folks, and as a result despite their indulgences these people often become beloved members of the community.  Although The Andy Griffith Show was fiction (although it was based in part on where Andy actually grew up in NC) there is a bit of truth to it in regard to the small town and how even the most mischievious of townfolk often are endearing.  When I was growing up in the small town of Kirby, WV, we actually had a person similar to Otis who to this day still recalls fond memories, and I want to spend some time today talking a little about his story. 

Kirby, WV, was by no means a Mayberry - in reality the place was poverty-stricken, and many people in town unfortunately did not live in the most ideal of settings as alcoholism, abuse, and other issues plagued many people there.  But, one thing it did have in common with the fictional Mayberry was its own version of Otis.  John Haines was quite the character - he drank like the fictional Otis, looked like a shorter version of Jed Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies, and if you saw him walk it would remind you of a cross between Foster Brooks and Charlie Chaplin.  However, despite appearances, John had a lot of complexity that many did not really see unless you got the chance to know him and talk to him.  Fortunately, my mother got to be close with the old fellow, and she gained an appreciation about his life that many people did not realize.  Although on the surface John appeared as a drunk who walked funny, he was in reality an astute observer of a lot of things. 

We first came across John not long after Mom and I moved to Kirby in the summer of 1980.  One of his chores was mowing the lawns in the trailer park the majority of the town lived in, and often John would mow more of the dirt road than he would the grass!  One day, Mom felt a little sorry for him, and invited him in for some water to cool off from his mowing, which he did greatly need and appreciate.  So, he would drop up for a visit on occasion, and once he found out that Mom could make a decent tomato sandwich (I hated them and didn't eat them, but they were a staple in the summer for others, and Mom would often make herself one for lunch), he would go into Nellie Cox's garden and steal a large tomato, bringing it to the house so Mom could make him a sandwich with a couple of slices of it.  As he'd visit, he'd get to where he would talk about things - he didn't say a whole lot to many people, and for some weird reason he didn't trust kids at all (he was of that old school of "children should be seen and not heard," which at the time insulted me but as I grew older and see how kids act today sometimes, it would not be a bad idea for some of them!).  Yet, although not overly fond of kids, he didn't hate them either - on one occasion, for instance, John hit the Frito-Lay vendor at Cox's Store up for a small bag of chips, which he gave to me.  And, although he exhibited some behavior that made him appear in a constant state of intoxication, in all reality he really did not consume as much as many thought he did - actually, he was alotted a quart of beer a day by Nellie Cox (which, come to find out, he paid for anyway, but we'll get to that shortly), and there was actually another explanation for his behavior that didn't have anything to do with alcohol consumption.  Now, I want to talk about that a little as I talk a bit about John's background.

John W. Haines was a native of Hampshire County, and I want to say he was born from somewhere near Slanesville in the east-central part of the county (Kirby was in the southeast corner, quite a distance away).  Of course, in that county Haines is a pretty common name anyway, for along with the Hotts and Timbrooks, Haineses make up a significant portion of the residents of the county.  He was born in February 1925, and was also a World War II vet, as he had served in the Pacific at that time.  While in the military, he was seriously wounded and did have the iconic steel plate in his head.  This did affect his motor skills significantly, and had more to do with his odd walk than the alcohol did actually.  He was also prone to convulsions, which appeared similar to the grand mal seizures people with epilepsy experience on occasion.  When one of those episodes would strike him, John would shake uncontrollably and could not stand up until the seizure passed.  His own name for those spells was the "heebie-jeebies," and although he was definitely not epileptic, he did have them with more frequency as he got older.  His honorable service and medical discharge actually earned him a comfortable pension for the remainder of his life, but due to his living humbly in a spartan-furnished trailer in Kirby, much of his wealth (and I say that factually - upon his passing, it was discovered that he had a substantial amount of assets which could have given him a more comfortable standard of living) was managed by local land baron Nellie Cox, who was also a distant relative of his.  Due to some sensitive nature of the situation, I won't indulge some details of this arrangement, because this is not really the place for it, but suffice to say many people thought something didn't jive with this once it was disclosed that John was actually a man of means.  For instance, although it was pretty much established as fact that John had these assets, he often had to beg for his daily quart of beer, and people felt sorry for the fact he had to live like he did, and many thought it was also unnecessary.  John was not a bum, nor was he some freeloading riff-raff - he actually asked for very little in life, and largely minded his own business.  Again, sometimes appearances can be deceiving, and John did often use the "dumb wino" act to learn a lot of things, and he had some pretty astute observations although many of the secrets he possessed went to the grave with him.  I think too that was one reason why he often was not open to many people and had a genuine mistrust of kids and others - kids do tend to spit out things they shouldn't at times, and I think John knew that.  Whatever the whole story - which we may never find out anyway - there was definitely more than met the eye when it came to John Haines.

When I was about 12 or 13, somehow one of the neighborhood people found out how to get an old TV John had operational at his place, and being we didn't own a TV set at the time, John gladly offered to let me watch his when I wanted to, as he had little use for it.  So, for the first time in a matter of years, I was able to watch cartoons and Friday night sitcoms, which provided a little activity in a town where choices of entertainment were limited.  In time, on weeknights several of us  - including Mom, me, and one of John's oldest friends, a fidgety little fellow by the name of Guy Bowman - would spend the evening watching television at John's place.  Those proved to be enjoyable diversions at the time, and it was actually fun to be able to do simple activities like watching a TV show when so much of that poverty-stricken town was often depressing. 

Despite living pretty simply and having a relatively stress-free life, complications from a variety of health issues began to take their toll on John, as at times toward the end he would even not be seen for days.  On one chilly February morning in 1983, someone decided to check on him because they hadn't seen him for a while.  That year, I was finishing up the 6th grade and was on the verge of entering adolescence, and therefore I was still relatively young at the time.  I also do not recall who went to John's house that day, but they found him - he had passed away not long before he was discovered, and the "official" reports said he suffered a fatal heart attack.  He was at the time only 58 years old - or, he would have been, as he passed shortly before his 58th birthday.  Nellie Cox took care of his funeral arrangements, and that was one of the first funerals I attended, and also one of three times I was a pallbearer.  It was a true honor though to bear John's remains to their final resting-place, and it was also humbling - the weather that day was overcast but also a little warm for February in that neck of the woods.  John was buried close to where he was born, in Slanesville at the Salem Church Cemetery.  He was missed by many, as he was actually a very iconic figure in town and almost everyone who lived there had a fondness for him. 

One interesting and amusing story also comes to mind about John.  Sometime around the middle of 1982, this family of really dumb stereotypical hillbillies consisting of an elderly woman, Goldie, and her two middle-aged sons, Vernon and Boyd, moved into the small house just across the street from John's trailer.  Goldie was a nosy busybody, suffered from bad illiteracy (she could not even write her own name!) and in general she was just a pain in the butt!  On one occasion, John really had to go to the bathroom and he was booking it over to his trailer from the store.  Anyone who has the classic "short hold and heavy load" knows that feeling well - you have to go, and you have to go now!  But, of course, old nosy Goldie saw him, and had to ask where he was going - so, in explicit terms, he told her, as he was exasperated anyway!  She never did that again!  We all laughed about that one for years.  Also, John loved country music, and often when he'd get a little tipsy he would sport this huge button someone gave him emblazoned with "I Like Girls!" on it, and then proceed to serenade anyone who would listen with his own unique rendition of Kenny Rogers' song "Lucille."  Interesting enough, in my first year of college there was a classmate of ours who actually bore an uncanny resemblance to John by the name of Randy Vaughn, who we all endearingly called "RV" for short.  RV was much younger (mid-20's then) but he walked the same, talked the same, and his story involved a similar injury - RV was involved in a car accident which gave him a condition similar to cerebral palsy (which many though John also had, interesting enough), but the only difference (and a scary one too!) was that RV drove a car!  And Lord have mercy, that was an experience to be talked about at another time!  Fortunately, John never had a car to drive, nor was he in need of one - he seldom left Kirby, and the most risky activity he engaged in was probably mowing the dirt roads in the park and occasionally zinging someone's window with a piece of slate gravel from the road!  But, I wanted to briefly mention RV, because when I first met him (and he later became one of my closest friends in school) he made me think almost instantly of John Haines! 

The legacy of John Haines could have a lot more detail to it, and unfortunately I don't have a picture anymore to share of him.  At one time, Mom had three good photos; one was recent, and the other two were from his World War II days - one was when he enlisted, and the second was after he was injured and got out.  That is really too bad, because a good picture of John would have enhanced the story better.  Suffice to say though, John was actually a decent guy who although was at first appearances easy to write off as a stumbling drunk, in reality he was actually interesting and more complex under the surface than many knew.  He carries a special place in my own story as well, because he is one of those people who does leave a lasting impression.  And, despite his limitations, John had a quality of character that these days is rare - he was humble, exercised good judgment, and had wisdom about some things that often went unnoticed due to externals.  He imparts a lesson that sometimes the greatest of riches can come in a plain wrapper, even one that's wrinkled and banged-up some.  May we all learn to look beyond externals and learn to appreciate unique people like the John Haines' of  the world. 

Remembering the Cake Walk

Recently, on one of our Tucker County Facebook pages, an interesting discussion about the old cakewalks piqued my memory a little, because it is something I remember fondly.  I want to just share some of that with you today.

The cakewalks in my hometown of Hendricks, WV, were tied into the Hick Fair that was a part of the town's tradition for decades.  To explain what the Hick Fair was, it dates back to the times the lumber industry was more prominent in the area, and those who processed the lumber from the woods to the railyards were called "woodhicks," hence the name (a "woodhick" was distinct from a lumberjack in that the latter actually had the task of cutting down the trees, while the former processed the cut lumber for production) - many of these "woodhicks" would on their weekends off come into towns like Hendricks to have a good time and kick back a little after a long stretch of work in the railyards.  According to Cleta Long's county history, the Hick Fair dated back to 1962 in Hendricks, when the first was held by the local Ruritans (Cleta Long, History of Tucker County {Parsons, WV: McClain Printing, 1996}p. 19).  The grounds for the Hick Fair were located between the railroad and the Black Fork River area on the south-central area of town, just adjacent to where my great-grandmother's old place used to be on Charles Street - the Hick Fairgrounds were separated from our area by a thicket of brush bordering what was then Delmar Snyder's old property, just behind the old United Methodist church.  Although the Hick Fair itself was held on Labor Day weekend, throughout the year many other events were held in the large pavillion on the grounds, including on Saturday nights the weekly cakewalks.  Unfortunately, when the '85 Flood hit Hendricks, it pretty much destroyed the fairgrounds and the Hick Fair is now held nearby at what is called Camp Kidd Park.  Any rate, although the Hick Fair and its history is tied into the local cakewalks, I wanted to mention the cakewalks specifically as I remember them.

Back when I was a kid, the weekly cakewalks were held on Saturdays in the evening at the Hick Fair pavilion in Hendricks, and they were usually MC'ed by a prominent local businessman by the name of Luther McCrum.  My great-grandmother would usually designate Saturdays as a baking day anyway, and she would bake all the week's bread, etc., and along with that she would often bake a cake for the cakewalks.  I remember that, because the house smelled so good on Saturdays with all that baking, and to this day it still makes my mouth water thinking about it.  Any rate, Granny's way of unwinding from the day's activities was to participate - as many local ladies did - in the weekly cakewalks, which were fun.  So, as a little youngster of 7, I would go with her to those on Saturdays because to be honest I had nothing better to do, and I also had an ambition to actually win one of those delicious cakes.  Kids today don't really appreciate the fun in stuff like that as many of us used to, because nowadays it's hard to get many of these kids off their lazy butts and away from the Wii's, cellphones, and computers to actually do a constructive activity.  It is another reason I feel blessed many times with being from the generation I am from.

I suppose now I should explain how the cakewalk works.  Essentially, you have to get a ticket, which was usually purchased at the door.  There were a set number of tickets sold to correspond with a set of numbered squares on the floor, and each number in the square corresponded to a number on the ticket.  The sales from the tickets usually went to some local charity as a fundraising project.   Any rate, from that point the concept of the game was similar to the childhood "musical chairs," in that as a record or band would play a tune, the participants walked around the squares until the music stopped and a random number was called by the MC.  If someone's ticket corresponded to the number on the square, that person won the cake that the walk was for.  Ah yes - almost forgot to explain that part!  Each cake was put up as a prize for each round, and the person whose number was called won that particular cake.  The cakes were usually baked that day by a lot of the local ladies who contributed them, and I remember the great variety of those delicious cakes on display - your mouth would water just looking at them!  And, they were all shapes, sizes, and varieties - many were as plain as yellow cakes with chocolate icing, or they would be elaborate confections made with fresh-picked local berries or other different ingredients.  Some less-motivated people would even contribute a cake they bought at the local A&P in Parsons from the bakery, but that was fine too - there was no clause saying the cake had to be baked at home, so contributing a "store-bought" cake from the A&P was acceptable as well.  Besides, a cake won tasted just as good, whether one of the town ladies baked it from scratch or they got it from the bakery at the store; as kids especially, we didn't really care where it came from, as long as we got to win one. 

I remember as a kid really having the ambition to win one of those cakes, and when I went with Granny to the cakewalks I was always praying my number would be called.  When it didn't happen, I got ticked off at Luther McCrum (as if it were his fault - he just called as he drew the tickets from the basket) for not calling my number.  But, eventually, if you go to enough of those cakewalks, you are bound to win at some point, and one day I finally did!  I still remember it - nothing fancy, as it was just a yellow cake with chocolate icing, but I won one!  The joy of a 7-year-old kid winning something is an experience that you have to actually be a 7-year-old kid to understand, but I can remember it to this day.  As I was talking to some other Tucker County natives the other day about memories of the cakewalks, I found out there were similar memories.  And, as I mentioned on the discussion, that day for me was truly and literally a sweet victory - in particular that good homemade chocolate icing!  I don't even recall who actually made the cake I won, but I remember I didn't have any complaints about eating it!  It is the little joys in life sometimes that are the most memorable, and that one truly was for me.

Since those days, I have attended one cakewalk since - back in 1990 at my step-grandmother's family reunion up at Camp Horseshoe, I was a 20-year-old college student at home on summer break and participated in the cakewalk they had there.  I don't recall winning anything, but it was still fun to do.  It would be nice if people went back to simple community activities like this, because the old and young both enjoy them.  Unfortunately, in the crowded urban environments many of us now live it, that is practically an impossibility due to the fact often we don't even know who the people next door to us are, and in some cases that can be a good thing!  The small towns in West Virginia where I grew up were not like that though - not only did you often know everyone in town, but more than likely you were probably related to many of them!  I do miss that on occasion, especially when I realize in many aspects how society has depreciated itself in recent years.  People are becoming more isolated due to many things, and the sense of community no longer has any relevance to many people like it once did.  This new generation, the "Millenials," are a particularly scary group - while they diddle their I-Phones while clad in skinny jeans and hoodies at the local Starbucks, they miss out on so much.  Many churches would do well to have more things like cakewalks and less crap like "Christian rock" concerts, because if they did that not only would it enrich the lives of their own members, but it could also be a witness to the community.  God is not against having a little clean fun once in a while, and a cakewalk is about as clean as one can get.  I know that for much of our society this is unrealistic nowadays, but for those of us who are like-minded, we could form our own communities to hold events like that.  That is something many of us should consider.  Community cohesiveness and a sense of good values may be the ticket that saves some facet of the nation we live in, and perhaps we need to think about fostering those more.  Any rate, I am honored to share some good memories with you again, but that concludes today's thoughts until next time. 

The Little Babushka

Olga Kovalenko (1920-2005)

 

In organizing a lot of my memorabilia, I am able to recall a lot of folks over the years I have been blessed with knowing.  I have met these people in churches, at work, and in other areas throughout my life, and they are the type of people who essentially leave an impression on you once you get to know them.  I try to document the stories of as many of them as possible over the years, as often one can lose touch if you don't recharge the memory cells a little.  One of those was a precious little old lady we met some years ago when we attended briefly an Antiochian Orthodox parish in St. Petersburg, FL, and I now want to share a few thoughts about her here with you all.  

 

Olga Kovalenko was a short, stocky little lady who struck me as being the picture of the classic Russian babushka - all she needed was a black shawl and she would have fit the picture well honestly.  She was of Belarusyn descent, and at the time we knew her she was around 84 years old.  But, she was a sweet little lady who constantly had a cheerful disposition, and she was one of those people you couldn't help but love.  A devoutly Russian Orthodox Christian, she attended church faithfully, and the devotion she had for Christ resonated from her countenance.  Although the parish she (and we) went to at the time was largely made up of roughly 50% each of Arabic-speaking Middle Eastern people and American converts to Orthodoxy, Olga still felt right at home and the people loved her in that parish.  

 

Olga was born in New Jersey, a fact I had just learned from her obituary after she passed away in May 2005.  For some reason, I had thought she was born in Minsk or something, as she would often talk to us at coffee hour after Liturgy and tell us stories about her roots, but it turned out that she was talking about her mother more than anything - her mother was born somewhere in the eastern stretch of the Carpathian Mountains, close to where Belarus, the Ukraine, Poland, and Hungary all sort of converged.  As a result, Olga was taught from an early age how to speak several languages, and she knew Polish, Ukrainian, and Russian.  While at coffee hour enjoying her donut or baqlawa with a cup of black tea, Olga was a delight to listen to.  Many younger people today don't know the true value of just listening to the elder generations, in particular someone as fascinating as this little lady was.  I feel as if many young people today are sort of deprived of principle as a result - a shallowness grips the present generation and spreads among it like a cancer (which is why they have no taste by and large, or an idiot like Justin Bieber would not be famous if they did!).  Over the years, I have gotten to appreciate hearing the memories of the elders as they talk, and I hope I talk some kids' ears off when I get to be that age too!  Any rate, I got to where I looked forward to coffee hour and listening to Olga talk about her life, and what a blessed life it was too.

 

A short time after we left that particular parish, Olga departed this life to receive her eternal reward.  She passed away on May 23, 2005, at the Bayfront Medical Center at the age of 85.  I know that many at St. Nicholas Antiochian Orthodox Church missed her too, as she was a much-loved member of that congregation, but as I often say, our loss was heaven's gain.  

 

I have gotten to know many interesting people over the years, but Olga was a special sort - a sweet lady, and also possessed of a great joy of life that she lived to its fullest over her 85 years on this earth.  If Olga were alive today, she would have been 98 this past February 24th.    Остальная часть вечной, dear Olga, and we'll see you in the hereafter.