About This and That: Selected Short Stories

Copyright 2013 Charles Hays.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-7068-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-7070-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-7069-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012922615

Trafford rev. 01/04/2013

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CONTENTS

Chapter One:   Way Back Then

Chapter Two:   Moving Day

Chapter Three:   Advice

Chapter Foura:   Anything Else

Chapter Five:   Caney Creek Coal

Chapter Six:   Pony Boy

Chapter Seven:   Cancer Cure

Chapter Eight:   Giving Beats Getting

Chapter Nine:   Fall And Rise

Chapter Ten:   The Experiment

Chapter Eleven:   One Day

Chapter Twelve:   Best Engineer

Chapter Thirteen:   Gitchee Gumee

Chapter Fourteen:   Choices

Chapter Fifteen:   The Original

Chapter Sixteen:   Hays-Brewer Feud

Chapter Seventeen:   Gourmet Chicken

Chapter Eighteen:   Teachings

Chapter Nineteen:   Great Grief

Chapter Twenty:   Needs

Chapter Twenty-one:   Visitors

Chapter Twenty-Two:   Speleologist

Chapter Twenty-three:   Females

Chapter Twenty-four:   Satisfaction

Chapter Twenty-five:   Ojibwa

Chapter Twenty-six:   Barons

Chapter Twenty-seven:   Thralldom

Chapter Twenty-eight:   Frankland

Chapter Twenty-nine:   Vittles

Chapter Thirty:   Assignment

Chapter Thirty-one:   Duelers

Chapter Thirty-two:   Gabble

Chapter Thirty-three:   Stones

Chapter Thirty-four:   Whistler

Chapter Thirty-five:   Storyologist

Chapter Thirty-six:   Convention

Chapter Thirty-seven:   Gamesmanship

Chapter Thirty-eight:   Sozialist

Chapter Thirty-nine:   Pluto

Chapter Forty:   Writer

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my classmates and friends that I grew up with in Eastern Kentucky. We were together for about twelve years until a strange thing happened. One day, I turned around and looked real hard but, there was no one there. They each had gone to someplace that was different and new. All of them had left our lovely mountains to secure a position in the National workplaces. I miss them but, they don’t know where I am and, likewise, I don’t know where they are.

We shared the mountains, the valleys and the streams of an area which was rich with tradition and natural beauty but, short on almost everything else. Therefore, the draw of exotic places like Middletown, Ohio or Houston, Texas was just too much for them to resist. I wish them well, wherever they are.

The most terrible thing that we did share was the Great Depression that began in 1929 and lasted until about 1945. My short stories are taken from those difficult years and some of them deal with life in Eastern Kentucky, during an era that is now called ‘way back then’. Other stories are about this and that.

FOREWORD

These short stories deal with a period of time that shaped people’s lives, their character and their personality. Each citizen of Perry County struggled in his own way for survival. On all sides, we faced abject poverty, hunger, long term suffering and, in too many cases, we fought off a variety of sharp stomach pains. It was not a good time to be born. But, then, which one of us gets to ask if they should be created or not?

My selected tales include topics of a widely different range and content. For example, feuding is treated, fried chicken is considered, career advice is presented and the coal business is examined, et cetera. As far as I can remember, these stories are each suitable for general audiences.

Names, characters and incidents are modified as a product of the author’s imagination to enhance the storytelling and to protect the innocent people, places and happenings. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), all associated events and specific locations are strictly coincidental and totally unintentional. If there are any hurt feelings or bad memories felt by any readers of my book, I personally regret any such occurrences. I prefer to think of them as being freak happenings caused by both probability and pure chance.

This story’s setting is taken from the years of 1929-1945 for the Great Depression. It addresses tough times and tougher people, the kind that made me stronger.

Chapter One

Way Back Then

MY MOTHER’S CREED of work, work and more work certainly clicked for me. I was a lucky young man because I excelled at everything that I tried from childhood to maturity and, even old age. In that regard, I feel truly blessed.

For example, I was always classified as a genius for every IQ Test that I ever took. My explanation for this unusual intellectual development is quite simple. During my development years, Father cared too little and Mother cared too much.

For me, playing baseball or any other games came after I had finished my homework to her satisfaction, not mine. Sleep would occur after a lengthy tutoring session carried out by my designated personal instructor, my Mom.

She would cradle my brother Johnny over her arms and rock back and forth on her favorite rocking chair while filling my mind with lovely visions. We would imagine going places, meeting people and, sometimes, we would play cards. Then, we would discuss the things that were created by God, like our bountiful Earth or the Universe. Sometimes, I would be allowed to listen to the radio but, only if Johnny was asleep. And, even then, I would have to turn the volume down low and be very quiet. Our favorite City was Paris, France and she knew that place better than most French citizens did.

My brother, Donald Lee (Johnny) Hays was the product of a split egg disaster and he never developed as a normal human being. His sister, Norma Lee Hays died during child birth. She was a watery mass of flesh that Dad buried in the backyard of our house in South Jackson.

Johnny lived for a total of nineteen years but, only because Mother nursed him for 24 hours and 7 days per week. The only thing that he ever ate was pasteurized milk from a baby bottle. Dr. Coldiron said that it was a miracle that Johnny ever lived at all.

In those days, there were no hospitals or nursing homes that would agree to take care of my brother. His condition was a very rare one that no one could handle in the 1930’s or 1940’s. As a result, it fell upon our shoulders to help Mom as much as we could and we did.

I never minded that situation very much and I never turned her down when she would ask me to give her a helping hand. I respected the fact that she was a far better teacher than any public school instructor who ever tried to teach me. Perhaps my inner feelings would rather be playing baseball but, I never told her that. We were a team, the three of us. And, our number one goal was to extend Johnny’s life as long as we could.

I will admit that I had a deep love for the game of baseball and that love was well justified. I started playing baseball with grown men when I was six-years old. I owned my own bat and ball and I could hit as well as any of the coloreds could from Liberty Street. If they pitched the ball anywhere near home plate and, if it was within my reach, I would tag it for, at least, a single or double.

Way back then, we were brothers and I could never understand the problems that they faced at work. However, I do think that it was work-related and for this reason. Whites were threatened by the blacks because the latter would work the same job for less salary. Therefore, the whites and their union would always preach ‘status quo’. It is not unlike the unrest which exists today between the Blacks and the Hispanics.

My home run talent didn’t arrive until I was 25-years old and playing professional baseball for the US Army in France. In 1953, our team went undefeated and the Brooklyn Dodgers offered me a contract to play baseball for them but, instead, I opted to take the GI Bill to get three degrees from the University of Kentucky, best choice that I ever made.

The mid-1930’s were tough but, not intolerably bad. The initial depression year of 1929 was long behind us and things were looking up for my Family. However, the economic effects still lingered on.

Johnny’s presence and our shut-in lifestyle structured my early existence and most of the subsequent years. In brief, I became an introvert who coveted a quiet, sheltered life. We never had any birthday parties and we couldn’t have any social activities because of my brother’s condition. He was a vegetable without any senses or any ability to move his tiny arms and legs. In brief, he was helpless and because he couldn’t stand noises or any strangers, we never had any company or any parties. But, we did manage to live and love in a four-room house that was full of happy thoughts and good feelings.

Of the four of us, Dad took it the hardest. Mom was a very religious person who truly believed that this was her punishment for having premarital sex. Unfortunately, these two lovers had pre-marital sex during a time when it was just not done or fashionable as it is today with casual sex.

So, both Mom and Dad had a huge guilt trip about the creation of Donald Lee and Norma Lee Hays. And, the Preacher did not help us very much. He would visit our home and all he wanted to talk about was the shame that God was placing on both of their shoulders. And, I thought that God was all about forgiveness instead of finding fault.

Mom offered penance but Dad sought relief in the form of a bottle. He was a good provider but, he told me many times that he was guilty of a very large sin. He argued that Johnny and Norma were his fault and no one else’s. I think he was trying to say that it was his fault, not Sallie’s. In any case, he hardly smiled for nineteen long years. And, the net result was that I became afraid of having any premarital sex.

Dad worked on the railroad at the time when most of the men were unemployed. He was paid about two dollars a day and more than half of his paycheck went for booze. Mother got by on less than one dollar per day and one of my haunting memories involved money. Dad was in a drunken stupor when he crawled up the stairs that led to our front porch. I guessed that he went on binges because his marriage was in shambles. They always slept in different rooms.

After he managed to get to the top of the stairs leading to our front porch, he passed out. None of that bothered me very much because it was such a common scene on every payday night. There were a lot of nights where he spent the night outdoors and upon the porch.

He was a huge man and too much for the two of us to handle. What broke my heart was seeing my Mother going through his pockets and searching for money and loose change to pay off our household expenses.

That’s when I went to work for the Hazard Daily Herald and I always gave all of my wages to my Mother. I was six years old and my little bit of money helped Mom to pay her bills on time. I was both proud and ashamed of my Father’s deeds.

Dad did caution me about the dangers of my carrying any money, even a small amount. In my hometown of the mid-1930’s, people were being killed for as little as twenty-five cents.

By comparison, the Mexican bandits of today will kill someone for only fifty dollars. At least, that is what the oil and gas companies are offering and I should know because my life as an iron and steel consultant has been threatened more than once. Once over a rejection at Youngstown Steel and another occasion because of more rejections for the Alyeska pipeline.

Do you remember when the young Indian radiologist was forced to drink sulfuric acid because he refused to deny his rejections? That crime was never prosecuted because it was never investigated. I came from the era where steel ran the Nation. But, in today’s World, oil and gas Companies rule the roost.

Being a small child of about ten or so, I witnessed my first killing. I could hear the sound of that bullet spinning through the air just before it missed my head and slammed into the poor soul that was walking just one stride ahead of me on Main Street of Hazard.

As it happened, Dad and I were headed toward the A&P Grocery Store in search of groceries and supplies for Mom. Tragically, I can still lead you to the very spot where that poor man bled to death.

Dad saw the murder weapon as it was being pointed outside of the perpetrator’s car window. And, in a split second, he jerked my collar to pull me backwards so that I would not be killed. Maybe he was a little tipsy but, he still had the wherewithal to save me. That was the first observed miracle of my young life.

He told the Police that it was a ‘Saturday-Night-Special’ pistol that they used and he also described their get-a-way car in exchange for anonymity. Because I was his only son, they agreed to let Dad have his privacy. But, the tragedy of all this was that it was a regular occurrence for Hazard on any given Saturday night. That’s when all the designated targets were each visiting the stores on Main Street.

When we first left the Country to live in the big City, we lived in a garage apartment containing one large room, a small kitchen and no bathroom. For that, Dad paid twelve dollars per month, half of his wages for two whole weeks of hard labor.

I will always be reminded of the stink which emerged each morning from our ‘slop jars’, aka the ‘chamber pots’. And, guess who had the responsibility to empty those pots into the Kentucky River? It was yours truly, that’s who.

Prices were still low because of the residual effects of the Great Depression. Gasoline was just nine cents a gallon. A postage stamp could be bought for just three cents. You could see a movie for twenty cents if you purchased no candy or popcorn and drank your water from the fountain.

One could buy a new car for about $500 and a used home went for about $1200. Those were the somber days of my adolescence where none could ignore those long lines of haggard faces that waited patiently in line for free milk, hot soup and packages of cheese. These items were called ‘starvation preventatives’.

Dad’s favorite song was entitled Brother, Can You Spare A Dime? Number two on his list was In a Shanty in old Shanty Town. We were considered railroad trash in a town that worshipped only money and coal or both. The children of coal baron families were especially cruel to everyone except their own kind.

When Dad was sober, he was quite a philosopher; e.g. He taught me the importance of that old Latin phrase of Meum Dictum, Meum Pactim. Which means, Me word is me bond. Sober or not, I loved my old man and I did understand why he was drinking.

That was caused by a large guilt trip which I have already discussed. I didn’t support the booze business but I did understand why he did try to drown his problems. Years later, he joined the Methodist Church and quit his drinking problem. Imagine how I felt when he said, I did it for my Family. You and Sallie have suffered enough.

A lot of things happened during 1932, the year of my birth. Some of these things were good but, others were not so good. For me, it was my birthing year and I was grateful about that. But, you can’t imagine what it’s like to be trapped inside of a small womb with barely any space to move around in. Perhaps, that’s what caused my claustrophobic ways in the first place.

Herbert Hoover lost his Presidency Campaign to Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Herbert blamed it on the fact that his prohibition program was too unpopular. Route 66 which I traveled on for many times at a later time was first opened in 1932.

Joseph Stalin created a famine that starved millions of Russian citizens. Charles Lindberg lost his infant child who was kidnapped and murdered by one Richard Hauptmann. The Charlie Chan mystery series began on NBC Radio.

A vaccine for Yellow Fever was discovered. Mahatma Gandhi initiated fasting as a bargaining tool on behalf of the untouchable class in India. Somehow, he taught us that the absence of food and money can become good leverage for bad politics.

Sallie Hays coined the expression, Nobody Asks to be Born. Courtney Hays originated the phrase, You must ignore what needs to be ignored. Charles Hays created the old saying, I wonder what is past this next hill?"

This book delivers stories dealing with what I call About This and That. It tells a little about my own life but, it also tells more about the lives of people that I have met while I lived my own legacy.

I could not have done this book without the help of my many friends, relatives, family and business associates. I do hope that my readers will enjoy these stories about our existence along the highways of my life.

This story is about a young boy who is forced to leave the Family farm for a job transfer to the big city of Hazard and he resents this move with

a strongly expressed opinion.

Chapter Two

Moving Day

IT WAS A long time ago but, I can remember our moving day as if it occurred just yesterday. Dad had announced the big news a few weeks previously but, this time, he really meant business. Mom and I were of the opposing view.

She thought that the Hazard schools would be better for me but, she didn’t want to leave her Mother. Sallie was the last child of Grandmother’s litter and she wanted to be near her Mom in case her aging Mother needed any help with anything. All of Mom’s sisters had already moved out of Jackson so Grandmother was all alone in her little home in South Jackson.

I was of a different opinion. I didn’t want to have anything to do with our moving to Hazard because I felt that it would change my life forever. A major disruption was what I called it and I thought that disruptions were related to volcanos and hot lava. Therefore, I was dead against the move to Hazard.

One night after a day’s hard work, Dad asked, Son, what do you think about living in a big City where they have one of everything and two of most? "Dad, like I told you last time, I don’t want to go.

I’m a country boy and I got no hankering to become a city slicker. You grew up here on the family farm and I want to be just like you. So why can’t I stay here with my dog, ‘Shep’? I sure don’t want to live in no place called Hazard."

Dad asked, Why not, Son? Hazard doesn’t have any Baptizing like we do here in Jackson so the big city is probably too sinful for us. He replied, "It’s true that they don’t do their Baptizing in the river like we do. But, they do have their Baptizing done in a big tub that is inside of their Church building.

You will grow to like it because it is real beautiful and very inspiring when it is done in that way. Dad, I won’t like it because I like to hide behind a tree to see if anybody drowns. They don’t have any trees inside their Church, do they? Got any other reasons for staying here?"

If I do go, will I be able to take Shep with me? Yes, Son, you can take your dog with you. I don’t reckon that a good hunter like yourself will ever be without a dog as a partner for your hunting trips. How can I hunt in a town that is mostly bricks, stones and concrete? You will have to go outside of the city and through all of those neighboring mountains to discover any edible critters. Got any other questions about moving to Hazard? How about fishing? Is there a big stream available in Hazard? Yes, there is Son and it is the same river that flows through Jackson. You will like it, I am sure.

"How can I hunt or fish without a rifle or a pole? Both you and Mom promised me my first rifle and a good fishing pole after I became five years old. And, here I am going on six and I don’t have either one. It is very difficult to shoot a plump rabbit with a rifle or to catch a large trout without the necessary equipment being available.

I’m staying close to Grandma’s house until I get what I was promised. In other words, I am not moving until I get what is mine. It is almost impossible to kill a rabbit with a pellet gun and it is about the same for a big trout. Those larger fish just pull the string right off of a slippery birch branch. So, if you want me to go to Hazard with you, we need to visit the hardware store and the sooner, the better."

Dad replied, Okay, if you will agree with me to move a little farther South to Hazard, I will buy you the equipment that Mom and I have promised you. It is only a few months before your sixth birthday so, what the heck. I have wanted a catfish dinner for several days so, a deal is a deal.

Of course, I was elated but, I still wasn’t ready to travel South. I asked him, Do they have pinto beans down there in Hazard? He grinned and said, Wherever I go, my charming wife will always fix us some soup beans, even if it’s at Hazard. Got any other reasons for staying here?"

Can Mister Kermit Bays come with us? Dad seemed quite surprised so, he asked the appropriate question. He inquired, Why would you want him to move there with us. He has his own Family here in Jackson.

I answered by saying, As you know the City Water Plant lies just next door to our house. And, Mr. Bays is teaching me how to purify drinking water from dirty river water. I want to learn more about that process, if I can.

He tabled that issue by saying, There will be plenty of time for you to learn stuff like that. You are only five and one-half years old. Enjoy your youth while you can because, before know it, you will have to start working for a living. Got any other reasons for staying here?"

Okay, Dad. But, I will miss that rumble seat of his Ford roadster. He interrupted to ask, What goes on in that old car of his? I responded with, Ever so often, Mr. Bays and I take a ride over to Barnett’s Grocery where I buy an ice cold bottle of Royal Crown Cola to drink. Quickly he asked, Does your Mother know about this?

Yes Dad. She is the one that gives me the nickel to pay for my daytime treat. To which he replied, I sure am surprised about that because I wasn’t aware that we had any extra nickels to spare. Got any other reasons for staying here?

What about my dead sister, Norma Lee? Will she be moving to Hazard with us? She won’t be coming with us Charles because we have to leave her here in the burial grounds that God has set aside just for her. But, Dad, if we leave her here who will care for her resting place and her beautiful flowers?

God, will take care of her, Son as he does for all fallen angels. Dad, I would like it better if she could come with us. I know. Son, but, Norma Lee Hays, will not be bothered by anyone. That divine ground is hers forevermore. Got any other reasons for staying here?

Dad, if I agree to go with you and Mom, will Grandma and Jimmy be able to come with us? I love Grandma’s cooking and I like to play with my ‘blood brother’ Jimmy. He said, No, you will have to leave them behind. However, if you promise to be good, I will get you a free pass on the Railroad train so that you can visit with them anytime that your Mom says you can.

Wow, a free train ride and all by myself with the grown-ups, right? Yes, if you agree to do whatever the Train Conductor tells you to do, that is. He is a personal friend of mine and he will take good care of you. I promise that I will do whatever he says, Dad. Got any other reasons for staying here?

Will our Hazard home use slop jars or an outside toilet? Yes it does, Son. Where you are going to live is a fine little house and you will grow to like it. I am certain of that. Will Hazard offer ice cream and picture shows?

Yes, and they have two movie theaters, not just one. Plus, the ice cream parlor is just next door at the Railroad YMCA building. You will have your very own charge account for ice cream every single night. Will I have friends for me to play with, Dad? Yes, you will Son. I guarantee it.

So we did move to the big city but, it turned out to be an unhappy place. We were considered to be ‘Railroad Trash’ who lived on the wrong side of the city, the North Main end of town. Our little shack was situated near where the steam locomotives made coal dust, consumed dirty water and filled my valley with choking smoke and black soot.

Poor Mom, she would clean the white bannisters on our front porch and they would be black again in less than one hour’s time. At that time, Pittsburgh, PA was supposed to be the dirtiest city in America. But, I doubt that because the black lung disease was far more rampant in Hazard than it ever was in Pittsburgh.

There were no boys and girls for me to play with and I was not allowed to go out because Dad said that people were being killed for two-bits of food money during what he called "The Great Depression Years’.

So, I did dearly regret leaving my place in the country. During the second week that we were there, my dog, Shep left and he was last seen headed North toward Jackson. I will miss him dearly but, he was the smartest dog that I ever owned. I think that he missed his soul mate and her new puppies. So, I did give some consideration to giving ‘Shep’ a new name. That forty-five mile trek back to Jackson reminded me too much of the Lassie story.

That new rent house was cheap enough at just ten dollars a month. But, that two-room house was just not big enough for four people. We were really cramped. It offered only two rooms, one for cooking and one for sleeping.

Our bathing was done in a steel tub like the ones that horses or cattle use. And, we had to dump that soapy water off of the porch so that it would kill the grass in our front yard because we had no lawnmower. Our only grass cutter was a hand-held scythe which I called a blister-making tool. No, we didn’t move up from our spacious home in Jackson. We moved down, way down.

What I hated most about our new living quarters was that it came with chamber pots and no outhouse. It was my duty to empty those two ‘slop jars’ into the North Fork every morning. Perhaps that was another reason that my dog Shep left in such a hurry because he was my assistant on the jar brigade.

I hated that rent house with an unquestionable passion. But, I learned to not criticize Dad for selecting it. Every time that I brought up a complaint about this or that, he would say, "It’s not my fault.

I had a nice house reserved up on Cornell Street but, you and your Mom couldn’t make up your mind about moving to Hazard. As a result of those delaying tactics, they rented that nice house to someone else." A few complaints from Mom or me and I learned to never mention that subject again.

My reactions were that I needed to run away like my smart dog did. But, there were no run-a-ways back then and, if I did try, where would my supper come from? I had no money and I had no food so I was forced to hang out in my favorite place, at the supper table.

About the time that I was thinking about staying with Grandma and Uncle Jimmy, I met my first friend, John Russell Muncy. And, guess what, his Father made clean drinking water for the entire city of Hazard. Man, was I the lucky kid! And, another thing, John and I would always play our favorite game, Cowboys and Indians. And, he was gracious enough to let me always play the part of being the Cowboy.

He introduced me to his neighbor Mrs. Martin who managed the L&N YMCA cafeteria which was otherwise known as ‘The Railroad Restaurant’. He taught me how to arrive at the YMCA just after all of the suppers were finished so that we could get free dips from those almost-empty paper cartons.

Mrs. Martin was a nice lady who had no children of her own so she adopted us as her ice cream friends. From that nice person, John and I received all kinds of exotic ice cream flavors.

It was a partnership that was made in heaven. She would scoop the bits of remaining ice cream into cones and we would wash the paper buckets for her using the outside water hose. We would sell the dried paper tubs to the nearby neighbors because they made such ideal storage containers. I cleaned up a lot of paper tubs for her and I loved the price because everything was free excluding the ones that we painted for customers who were real picky about their storage vessels.

John got me interested in picture shows and popcorn at the Family Theater where you could stay all day for just twenty-five cents. I still remember those horrible headaches that were caused by watching one movie the entire day. But, the advantage was mine because I became an authority on old movies and actors. My favorite movie star was George ‘Gabby’ Hayes because a lot of people in Hazard thought that we were related. I never denied knowing Gabby.

JR and I went on many camping trips together and we explored a lot of different caves along the way. The higher elevations of those mountains offered many caverns for us to explore and play in.

Just the two of us were together while we were many miles away from the City life and our free ice cream. And, best of all, we would target practice by plinking vermin from the mountain top, mostly field rats that my Mother didn’t want to ever enter her house.

Occasionally, we would bring home a rabbit or two for our supper meals. If we had only one rabbit, I would yield to John because he loved fried rabbit much better than I ever did.

We dug Sassafras roots for our mothers to make homemade tea. Both parents dearly loved their afternoon teas, a habit that could be traced back to old England. Both John and I became sharpshooters by learning the precision that was necessary to fire across entire valleys at rabbits, raccoons, wild birds or any other edible creatures.

My Dad loved rabbit and his Dad loved raccoons so we became heroes when we were able to deliver one of each after we returned home to Hazard. In brief, John Muncy turned my life around in the big city.

As a result, I grew to love the place much more after I met my lifetime friends. I did enjoy the lectures by Mr. Muncy instead of Mr. Kermit Bays. And, I grew to appreciate the school system at Hazard who had hired staff from Columbia University and other famous places. They were intelligent, helpful and most knowledgeable.

But, we would have to wait five long years before Dad could afford to buy a four-room house containing the greatest invention of my lifetime, an indoor toilet with a large porcelain tub for bathing.

Dad and I tossed our old ‘slop jars’ from the Railroad swinging bridge where they perished into the river water some sixty-feet below. I was the happiest boy in all of Hazard when Dad and I finished slaughtering those two chamber pots. We jumped for joy until the swinging bridge began to sway too much for our own safety.

Looking back in time, I have to admit that my Dad was right about one thing. Moving to Hazard was not a bad deal for either one of us. He got lots of pay raises and promotions such that when he retired, he was the highest ranked individual for the Hazard Railroad yards.

For me, the highlight was either John Russell Muncy or the City School System. If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t change ‘Moving Day’ one bit. However, I will always miss my old ‘Shep’, the smartest dog that I ever owned.

Advice is a free gift that old people give to youngsters and too much advice causes them to age prematurely.

This story concerns an old friend and a great advisor.

Chapter Three

Advice

DR. JAMES C. Coldiron was a typical family doctor for the Perry County area during the years of the Great Depression. He made house calls and, at times, he was a bit gruff and ill-mannered toward those who would not pay their medical bills. In one comparison, he was our Dr. Martin of PBS fame. In other words, he seemed to excel at making customers angry, without even trying very hard. To him, that ability came quite naturally.

Another problem with Dr. Coldiron was that he couldn’t abide with young mothers who had trouble deciding what name to place on their baby’s birth certificate. My own mother was one of those young women who had trouble trying to decide what my given name should be.

Dr. James C. was a very busy man and he was amazed that other people couldn’t make decisions as well and as fast as he did. He asked my mother several times what my given name was going to be and she always declined to say. She wanted mine to be a stout name that everyone would recognize and like. He even came by the house where we lived on several occasions to determine if she had made her mind up but, each time, it was the same. No, Dr. Coldiron, I need more time to make up my mind. This is a hard decision for me to make.

Then, my Uncle Earl was called in to help my mother with her problem of choosing the perfect given name. Sallie told him that she couldn’t make up her mind about such a serious matter and that she needed some sound brotherly advice.

He thought about the problem for several minutes and he said, This baby should be given a name that honors the news highlights of today and one that truly reflects that of the 1930’s. He needs to be called, Charles Oscar Lindberg Junior Hays." And, that’s how I became known as Charles Hays. Mom liked the name of ‘Charles’ but, thank goodness, she detested the ‘Oscar Lindberg Junior’ part.

Things progressed very well until I was twelve years old and we learned from the City School System that Charles Hays did not legally exist. They suggested in a mild mannered way that Dad owed them for ten years of illegal educational expenses.

We subsequently learned that ‘James Hays’ was legal but, ‘Charles Hays’ was not. So, Dr. James C. Coldiron had grown tired of mom’s inability to make a simple decision and he had named me after him and he did all that without our knowledge.

Eventually, numerous letters and sworn statements had to be sent to State Capitol to get my records corrected from ‘James’ to ‘Charles’. It should have been a simple task to get a name changed but nothing is classified as simple in Frankfort, KY. It turned out to be a ludicrous task of wasted time and excessive fees. All of which happened because Coldiron was in a hurry while my mother was not.

After my birth certificate was finally corrected by the experts at Capitol City, I settled down to a life as being a ‘legal’ Charles Hays as opposed to the now ‘illegal’ James Hays. Of course, daily activities were unchanged because I was still the same person without any known differences in sight, sound or senses.

Unfortunately, there was virtually no difference as far as the girls were concerned. They treated me just as miserable as they had always done. To them, I was ‘Chuck’, Charley and Charlemagne or whatever they thought was either entertaining or sufficiently derisive.

One day, I told myself that enough was enough. I caught up with Dr. Coldiron on Main Street and I asked him, Why did you put my mother and me through all that name changing business? Living my life as ‘Charles’ is not much different than living it as ‘James’ but I would appreciate knowing why you misnamed me. I am Sir Charles, not Sir James.

He laughed at me acting as if I had been recently awarded knighthood. Then, he looked at me kind of queerly and said, A rose by another name is still a rose. I replied, No poetry, please. I just want to know why you did that to us, okay?

He responded by saying, Charles, when a mother can’t make a reasonable decision after several weeks of waiting, I make that decision for them. I name their male offspring as ‘James’ and, as of this date, there are over 5,000 boys and men named after me in Perry County alone. They seem to be satisfied with the task of carrying my name around. Why did you feel it necessary to leave ‘James’ and adopt ‘Charles’?

When I told him that it was done to save ten years of illegal school expenses, he came around to my way of reasoning. He apologized and asked me to join him at the Rexall Drugstore.

He needed a cup of coffee and he promised me a chocolate milkshake as a token of peace and good will. I didn’t mind having a free ice cream treat from Dr. Coldiron because there were some other matters that I wanted to ask him while I had his carcass stuck in a drugstore booth.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be a lawyer when I grow up? He replied, No, I had a lawyer as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be an engineer when I grow up? He replied, No, I had an engineer as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be a coal miner when I grow up? He replied, No, I had a coal miner as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be a storekeeper when I grow up? He replied, No, I had a storekeeper as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be a banker when I grow up? He replied, No, I had a banker as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be a salesman when I grow up? He replied, No, I had a salesman as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

I asked, Dr. Coldiron, should I be a preacher when I grow up? He replied, No, I had a preacher as a patient. He wouldn’t pay his medical bills so he died and went to Hell. His last day on Earth was not a pretty sight.

In desperation, I asked, What should I be when I grow up? He responded by saying, It doesn’t matter, just pay your bills so you won’t go to Hell. Then, your last day on Earth will be a memorable event for you and your family.

This great philosopher was banished to nearby Leslie County because the High Sheriff didn’t like it too much when Doc told him where he was headed if he didn’t pay something down on the past due debt that the Sheriff owed to my beloved physician.

And, there was this other ugly rumor that each of the non-payers had been forever silenced by being given an ‘assisted’ departure from the face of this Earth. Fortunately, for my friend and my personal practitioner, there was no legal proof that such a rumor was true or false.

But, I can tell each of you readers about my own allegiance. Whenever I needed a good doctor, I would drive to Leslie County to visit with the best available physician of the mountains, Dr. James Charles Coldiron. And, for my own safety, I would always pay my debt in full by using nothing but cash money. He liked me just fine.

Listen too closely to what others say and you may hear something that you didn’t expect to hear.

Especially, when you are drowsy and tired.

Listen too closely to what others say and you may

hear something that you didn’t expect to hear.

Especially, when you are drowsy and tired.

Chapter Four

Anything Else

GROWING UP IN those hills of Eastern Kentucky during those Great Depression years was, by no means, a pleasant task. The times were hard, food was scarce and cruel hardships were never a stranger to any dwelling for all low-to-middle class mountain people.

Poverty, sickness, moonshine and death were the destruction cocktail for our everyday life. And, that cocktail of existence contained or caused all four ailments where addiction seemed to be spinning out of control.

In other words, the typical provider for a stated family was, most likely, poor, ailing, dying or always intoxicated. The conditions that such a person had to face on a daily basis were just too much for a normal person to bear. A few good men were left but, most of them had already gone North to Ohio or South to Texas.

One way that large extended families survived was to send their children to the country farms to serve as child laborers during the summer term when the city schools were not in session. In this manner, any wages that were owed were always repaid with free vegetables that could be canned for the winter season which soon followed just after the fall harvest was finished.

My memory of those summer activities brings to mind just two visions: One involving hard work from dawn to dusk and, a second one that offered good meals,