Memorable People from my Childhood in David, Kentucky

Sometimes I don't know what to write about and think I should be more sophisticated, but today, I'm on a binge of just writing.

Now, I'm thinking of our David Grade School and the special visits we had--in addition to the dreaded nurse visits.

Preacher Durham, local minister and renowned story teller, Sister Ruth and Sister Mary--I assume Catholic nuns who taught us bible stories--and Mr. Ellliott, our traveling music teacher, from whom we learned folk music, western music, and then-- Pomp and Circumstance.

Imagine living far out in the county without access to music lessons, story tellers, and inspirational speakers. We had them all, but I doubt we realized it at the time.

Does anyone know how to locate Sister Mary and Sister Ruth? I have no idea where they came from, but they showed up regularly at our school. They had a felt board with multiple and colorful characters to post as they told remarkable stories from the Bible. They had Joseph and Mary and a little baby Jesus. They had shepherds, sheep and angels. Sometimes they added a prodigal son and a fatted calf to remind us that, "but you were always with me, my son". The images have led me to many an epiphany in my adult life. Moses in a basket, his life hanging in the balance, only to be found and loved by the Kings daughter. The nuns didn't preach Catholicism, they only told stories. I don't remember any protests from the PTA. Sister Mary and Sister Ruth worked very hard to bring us the stories in living color.

"My foot's in the stirrup, my pony won't stand.I'm off for Montan', I'm a leavin' Cheyenne. Goodbye Old Paint, I'm a leavin' Cheyenne. Goodbye Old Paint, I'm off to Montan'".

"Oh my darlin, Oh my darlin, Oh my darlin Clemintine......."

"From this valley they say you are goin". I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile. Just remember the Red River Valley and the Cowboy who loved you so true."

In addition to all the songs, Mr. Elliott would show up in each spring and introduce the 8th graders to " Pomp and Circumstance"--the annual choice for the graduation march.

We learned the music and we also learned how to march in sync with the slow, classical beat. Step, forward slide, step, forward slide--and on and on. One had to be respectful in such a ceremonious atmosphere. We knew no other way that graduation marches were done. The girls wore white dresses, the boys wore jackets (I think) and we all took it very seriously.

My class sang, "God of our fathers,whose almighty hand. Brings forth in beauty all the starry band. Be thou our ruler, guardian guide and stay. Thy word our law, Thy path our chosen way." Bom, Pa, Pa, Pa, Bom Pa. Mr Elliott used his baton to measure out each beat. I will never forget him and this eloquent ceremony.

The only thing I didnt' like about my 8th grade graduation was my homemade dress and the "permanent" wave mother had the neighbor beautician put into my ever so straight hair. I was honored to give the Salutatorian speech. Mother wrote it for me. She was a great speech writer.

Why did I hate the dress and how I looked? I did housework, ironed white shirts, and baby sat 4 children in return for having my dress handmade by Ila willis. The buttons were hand-covered in the white pique of the dress. The belt was handcovered too. It was perfectly fitted and probably beautiful, but I hated it. I just didnt' see the quality involved at that time. Ila was a great seamstress, but I didht' know it at the time. All I knew was that I worked very hard just to recieve the dress.

The permanent wave was the crowning glory, and, somehow, Mother got me a corsaage. I have horrid pictures that mark the day, but, maybe to my Mother, I was beautiful. And now, other memories...

How on earth can I describe the story-telling powers of Preacher Durham? We heard him each Sunday in church, so it was a special pleasure to hear him as the guest speaker in our special meeitngs in the gym.He didn't preach, but captivated us with his thrilling stories.

We'd march in and take our seats on the wooden bleachers. Quite modern at that time, actually, since many grade schools in the day didn't have a gymasium.

We would be quiet-we knew any disrepectful noise would warrant a whipping. Preacher Durham would finally step up to the podium. The story would begin in a quiet tone, as he told of the boy from Galileee and his predisposition to comapassion and honesty. Then the story would crescendo as he talked of the road to Damascus and the robbers that lurked around every curve in the road.

Our anticipation grew and finally, when the robbers attacked, Preacher Durham made such an explosive sound we all gasped. The good Samaritan often saved the day--much like Spiderman or Batman do today. We must have heroes, right?

He was a master. To this day, I've never forgotten the little boy from Galilee and the miracles he performed from Bethlehem to Damascus. I'm amazed today when I hear of the struggles in the middle east and how much we learned from the stories.

Preacher Durham also printed a weekly bulletin from a back room in his home. He used ink and a roller press to create the Bulletin. Sometimes we would go hang out in his press room and watch the news being printed. It was a privilege to be selected to eliver the "Bulletin".

Sometimes the news was as simple as, "Nova and Dawson Bussey are the proud grandparents of a little grirl, Jerra Rae Collins." Or, "Mary Frances Stambaugh won the award for best porch decorations during the Christmas Holiday".

Preacher Durham knew how to win us over. He gave "grab-bags" regularly after his church services. They were great. I remember leaving services one day and asking if I could take a bag to my brother Rodney who couldn't come that day. He gave me a bag and one for Rodney too. The treats were from his own pocket, I'm sure. But his messages were memorable.

"Just like a tree, tha stands beside the water....I shall not be moved. I shall not be, I shall not be moved....."

Who can fill in my blanks? The words echo in my mind and heart.
Love and Peace
Judy