Paul's Story
My Father-in-Law passed away today. He was a dear, gentle, quietly special person.
We had to admit him to Hospice care a week ago after a steady decline. I sat with him almost all day holding his hand, talking to him even though he wasn't hearing me. I had to leave at 2:30pm to pick up the kids, get one or the other to football practice, drill team practice, etc. - he died while I was gone at 4:15pm. I can only live with that because the Hospice people could not have been more loving and caring to him. The Hospice nurse was sitting with him when he passed on.
A re-post in his honor -
Memories of a Country Classic
Paul's Story
"It was before World War II. I was probably 19 or 20 years old the first time I played with a band. It was just a bunch of guys that lived around the area that had taught themselves to play like I did. We started out as a string band in Mollystown, Tennessee. That was the place's old name. Now it's called Gibson Hollow.
Pete, the leader of the band couldn't figure out the mandolin so I traded him my rhythm guitar. We had a bass guitar, two on rhythm, another on fiddle, me on mandolin and later we had a guy on the rub board. We used to play at one-room school houses and churchs way out in the country. Sometimes they'd give us $5.00 apiece. That was a lot of money back then.
Gas was .10 cents a gallon, but there weren't as many gas stations so sometimes we'd run out of gas and we'd have to push Pete's Model T 3 or 4 miles to the nearest station.
There was a country store that made up the town. It had a elm tree out front and the store owner had built a bench under that tree. We asked him if we could play out there on Friday nights. People would come and sit on that bench and listen to us. We practiced all week. We also played on the radio every Saturday night. The radio station billed itself as "The Sound of the Upper Cumberland." One time (the rub board player's) wife got real mad and pitched a fight because Pete had said on the radio that (the rub board player) was going to dedicate a song to some girl.
When the war started the band broke up. Everybody was going off. I didn't keep up with the guys too much. I went into the Navy. Some of them went back to Tennessee after the war was over.
Most of them have died off now. I read in the little paper up there a while back that (the rub board player) had died.
That was a long time ago. I kept that mandolin a long, long time. It wasn't that expensive, but it had a real sweet sound. Then one time after a barbecue I left it propped against a tree. It rained that night and ruined it.
That mandolin I've got now is a real good one. I paid $1,500 for it back in 1962. You need to keep it for the kids. One day they may want to learn how to play it. It's a good one."
Neuro Status: heartbroken
We had to admit him to Hospice care a week ago after a steady decline. I sat with him almost all day holding his hand, talking to him even though he wasn't hearing me. I had to leave at 2:30pm to pick up the kids, get one or the other to football practice, drill team practice, etc. - he died while I was gone at 4:15pm. I can only live with that because the Hospice people could not have been more loving and caring to him. The Hospice nurse was sitting with him when he passed on.
A re-post in his honor -
Memories of a Country Classic
Paul's Story
"It was before World War II. I was probably 19 or 20 years old the first time I played with a band. It was just a bunch of guys that lived around the area that had taught themselves to play like I did. We started out as a string band in Mollystown, Tennessee. That was the place's old name. Now it's called Gibson Hollow.
Pete, the leader of the band couldn't figure out the mandolin so I traded him my rhythm guitar. We had a bass guitar, two on rhythm, another on fiddle, me on mandolin and later we had a guy on the rub board. We used to play at one-room school houses and churchs way out in the country. Sometimes they'd give us $5.00 apiece. That was a lot of money back then.
Gas was .10 cents a gallon, but there weren't as many gas stations so sometimes we'd run out of gas and we'd have to push Pete's Model T 3 or 4 miles to the nearest station.
There was a country store that made up the town. It had a elm tree out front and the store owner had built a bench under that tree. We asked him if we could play out there on Friday nights. People would come and sit on that bench and listen to us. We practiced all week. We also played on the radio every Saturday night. The radio station billed itself as "The Sound of the Upper Cumberland." One time (the rub board player's) wife got real mad and pitched a fight because Pete had said on the radio that (the rub board player) was going to dedicate a song to some girl.
When the war started the band broke up. Everybody was going off. I didn't keep up with the guys too much. I went into the Navy. Some of them went back to Tennessee after the war was over.
Most of them have died off now. I read in the little paper up there a while back that (the rub board player) had died.
That was a long time ago. I kept that mandolin a long, long time. It wasn't that expensive, but it had a real sweet sound. Then one time after a barbecue I left it propped against a tree. It rained that night and ruined it.
That mandolin I've got now is a real good one. I paid $1,500 for it back in 1962. You need to keep it for the kids. One day they may want to learn how to play it. It's a good one."
Neuro Status: heartbroken