The Best Mom in the World

 

I consider myself blessed to be able to call Loretta Nolen Smith Mom. In my mind, she is the best mother in the world. This may be one of those "I may be prejudiced, but I don't think so" moments, but I really, really don't think so. I marvel at the many roles she has played in life.

First, she was a dream. I can imagine Grandma Rachel marveling at the little person twisting, turning and kicking inside of her and dreaming of holding her in her arms. I imagine Grandpa Boyd resting his hand on Rachel’s tummy and feeling that same awe and wanting to hold her too. When she was born, she was a daughter, a granddaughter, a niece, a cousin, …. Her mom and dad would get to marvel at the perfect little person they had come together to make.

 

It would not be long before she became a big sister to eight other siblings. Two of those she would see buried as only babes. Even though so young, I imagine that she was a comfort at that time to her family. She would be a help to her parents and as she grew older, her responsibilities would grow too.

 

My mother was only 9 years old when her own mother, Rachel Allen Nolen died. She was the oldest of 7 living siblings, with Johnnie being the youngest and only 10 months old at the time of Rachel's death. She became motherless and at the same time became a “mother” to six younger siblings. She was only nine, but I have heard from some of those siblings that she tried her best to be a mother for them.
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Grrandpa Boyd was a good man and for a while, Grandpa did try to raise the kids but he had to leave the home to work. I think that Mom must have learned a lot of her mothering skills with that early on the job training. Granny came and stayed with them for a while, but that did not work out.

In the end, the family had to be split up. Mom and Johnnie ended up with Aunt Alta and Uncle Bug ; and Lola, Fanny, Billy, Ronnie and Olen ended up spending time with other relatives and in children's homes. Aunt Alta told me more than once, that she truly regretted not being able to take them all in.

 
So when she was eleven, she became a transplant. She moved from Kentucky along with her baby brother Johnnie to live with her Aunt Alta and Uncle Bug in Dayton, Ohio. She became a new older sister to her three cousins; Dale, Denny and Kookie. Somewhere along the way, when she was probably fifteen, she met the brother of her uncle’s wife. As she began to know this young man better, she became a girlfriend. When she was only sixteen, she became a wife. Mom married Dad when she was 16 years old, and since she was married, she had to quit school. My Dad can always be assured that he is special too, because my Mom loved school, but was willing to drop out to marry him.

 

After she and Dad married, as a team, they became a glue for the family. That glue brought Mom’s siblings together as often as possible. Mom’s siblings have told me that Mom has been like a mother to them and Dad has been like a father to them. Mom and Dad’s efforts allowed those familial ties that bound the Nolen siblings together to begin with to not be broken and to even somehow grow stronger!

When she was nineteen, she became a mother with my birth and then again with my brother’s birth two years later. I think that the role of mother must be the most challenging role of all for it necessitates so many other roles. A mother must be a doctor, a nurse, a psychiatrist, a mentor, an example, a cheerleader, a comforter, a kick in the britches when needed…… Yes, a mother must be a Jack of all trades and a master of all!

 

After having their two children, Mom decided to go to night school to get her diploma. This could not have been easy with a home and family to take care of, but she did it. Of course, we did live in Ohio at the time, so we had lots of family around to help out. In my mind, I liken growing up in Dayton to the way I imagine the Kennedys (minus the money and power, of course) must have grown up in their Kennedy Compound, surrounded by family, family that would always have your back.

 

Mom got her high school diploma shortly before her little girl got her "Bachelor of Rhymes degree" from kindergarten. In 1968, we left our "Kennedy compound" and moved to Tennessee. Mom worked at a pencil factory and another factory where she did sewing work.

Somewhere along the way, she began to want to go back to school to become a nurse. I don't know why, but Dad wasn't too happy with this. Mom was determined and believed strongly that she should do this, and do this she did. Again, it could not have been easy for her, but her determination and hard work saw her through it and she became an R.N. I believe that any patient who had my Mom as a nurse could not have had better care!

Over the years, I have learned many valuable lessons from my Mom, not in so many words, but by watching her and seeing her example. She has been the best mother, the best grandmother and now the best great-grandmother. She has shown determination, she has shown generosity, she has demonstrated the arts of patience and forgiveness..... I can say that any lack in these attributes that I demonstrate myself, is totally a reflection of the student and not the teacher. And in each of the roles she has filled, she has been a friend; not the kind of friend that tells you what you want to hear, but the kind that listens and then tells you the truth that you need to hear. The truth can sometimes hurt, but she always offers a comforting touch with that truth and a loving embrace to make that truth more bearable.

 

 

                                        

I tell Mom often that I could not have been given a better mother. She is humble and I do not know if she really believes that, but she should know that she raised an honest daughter. If I did not believe so, I would not say so! She has provided me an example to follow that I can only hope to achieve! As I have said before, any shortcomings that I exhibit in my own life is a reflection of the student and not the teacher.

Mere words will never be enough to paint the picture that is my mom. For folks who know her, well, you know what I mean. For folks who don't know her, I'm sorry, you are missing out!

Scent back in Time

The sense of smell is a powerful thing. You can be living in the present and the whiff of something can take you back decades to when you were a child. Some smells do that for me and since my childhood was such a perfectly idyllic time, I love to revisit that past.

My great-grandmother, who everyone called Granny, loved peppermint. I remember her always having a huge stick of peppermint around. When we traveled to Kentucky, my parents would often buy one of those huge sticks to bring back to her. She would get her butcher knife and use the handle to whack off a piece of that lovely sweet candy for me. I love remembering Granny so I love the smell of peppermint.

                               Me and one of Granny's peppermint sticks.

I love the scent of cedar wood. It brings to mind my Grandpa Smith. He would often sit out on the porch in a straight-backed chair and he would pull out a stick of cedar from his overall pocket and start whittling. Fragrant curls of cedar would soon be surrounding his chair and that fragrant smell brings to mind Grandpa Smith.

Now my great-uncle Bug, who was more like a grandfather to me, would on occasion smoke a pipe. He smoked some kind of cherry pipe tobacco. Sometimes I will catch a whiff of something and it will remind me of cherry pipe tobacco and I will remember Uncle Bug. I love that smell because I love that memory.

            Uncle Bug, Olen C Cantrell and Granny Mandy Moore Allen

I love the smell of rain. My grandparents’ home on Anglin Branch was nestled on a narrow ribbon of creek bottomland between steep wooded hillsides. It seems like the smell of rain so often hung in the air. I suppose the mists that so often covered the hillsides in late evenings and early mornings must have carried that scent, the scent of moist rich earth filled with promise. The smell of rain brings to mind those sweet grandparents and memories of sitting on their porch hearing the music of the rain on the tin roof.

                                        Grandma and Grandpa Smith

                       Dad sitting on Grandma and Grandpa's front porch.

I love the smell of citrus; oranges and especially lemons! They have such a fresh and energizing smell. They are strong scents without being overpowering. When I smell lemons, I can remember making a lemon pie with Grandma. It is kind of ironic how such a sour fruit can bring back such sweet memories!

I love the smell of soup beans cooking. That may seem strange as they don’t have a smell that many folks would love, but I do nonetheless. Often, I will go to visit Mom and Dad. They know that I love soup beans and sometimes when I go, I can smell those beans that Dad has put on to cook and I know that we are going to have one of my favorite meals for lunch. I imagine that the smell of soup beans will forever remind me of visiting my parents and enjoying what I call an ancestor meal with them.

I love the smell of coffee. I love to smell it as it drips through the coffeemaker. I love the smell of it as the steam wafts up from my cup. When I first open a can of coffee, I love to get close and sniff that first burst of aroma from the can as I pull the seal back. My daughter Alexandria loves to do that too. I try to wait to open new coffee until she can share that first burst of lovely coffee aroma with me. Now she lives on her own so when I open a new can. I will take two long pulls of that coffee aroma; one for me and one for Alex.

 

There are many other scents that I really love. I love the smell of baking bread, but who doesn’t! That smell makes my mouth water in anticipation of enjoying a warm slice of buttered heaven. Of course, if you pair that bread aroma with cinnamon in the form of cinnamon rolls, well that is even lovelier!

I love the smell of onions and garlic sauteing on the stovetop. I love the smell of magnolia blossoms. I love the smell of honeysuckle on summer evenings when I am sitting out on my deck. I love the smell of babies after they have just had their baths.

There are just so many scents that I find appealing. Some of those scents are just good scents and it seems that anyone with good sense should like them. Others may be less obvious because they don’t carry others back in time where they can revisit sweet memories like they do for me. I think that that may be the main attraction that a scent holds for me, whether it can act as a personal time machine!

How Do I Admire Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.

This is written in response to the StoryWorth question: What do you admire most about your father?

When it comes to parents, I won the lottery. Both of my parents are wonderful and I would not trade them for any other parents in the world!

My father has many admirable traits. One of them is that he is extremely hard-working. I suppose that being born and raised in Eastern Kentucky probably helped to mold this trait. He had to work from boyhood helping his parents to raise a garden to feed the large family. This garden was not a little hobby for the family; the survival of the family depended upon its bounty. He also helped with the animals; milking cows, feeding the mule, slaughtering the hogs.

He worked from boyhood to help raise and get the family’s tobacco crops to market. This was not easy work, but it gave his family a bit of spending money to purchase those items that it could not raise; sugar, flour, coffee… It also gave them a bit of money for Christmas.

When they were old enough, he and his brother Wallace dug the family’s coal supply for the winter from coal banks on their property. This was fairly dangerous and difficult work but the boys did it in order to keep their family warm come winter.

He hunted to provide the occasional squirrel for the family. Dad tells me that Grandpa gave him and Wallace an old rifle to go on less serious hunting expeditions. The rifle was old and they only had one shell for it. Dad says that he and Wallace went “hunting” for years, never firing that shell as they knew it was the only one they had. He told me that they finally got tired of never firing a shot and shot it just for the heck of it!

So Dad was pretty much brought up on hard work and has always been willing to do it and always does it right. After he and Mom married, he worked three jobs at times. In spite of having little, if any free time, and little, if any spare cash, he managed to drive to Kentucky from Ohio to pick up Mom’s brothers from the children’s home for holidays and breaks. He also worked to turn a mere shell of a house where snow blew into the house around the window frames into a cozy home with a bedroom and bathroom addition.

I have heard Uncle Ronnie and Uncle Olen say more than once how Dad was almost like a father figure for them. I have heard them marvel at how he could manage to do what he did considering how little time and money he had. Uncle Olen just recently said that he thought that all of the siblings except for Aunt Fanny had stayed with Mom and Dad for periods of time. I can remember Grandpa Boyd staying with us for a while too. So Dad was willing to welcome in family when they were in need. I think that that is also an admirable trait.

Over the years, I have seen Dad pitch in to do whatever work needs to be done. He has fried up some delicious pork chops and gravy. He makes the best cornbread and soup beans. I have heard him say more than once that he taught Mom how to cook. She doesn’t really dispute that either and I can tell you that he did a fine job teaching her because she can cook up some serious deliciousness herself.

 

I admire Dad’s intelligence. He seems to be able to learn to do anything he sets his mind to. As a young man, he helped his brother Dale wire houses for electricity in the rural area around where they grew up. He would wire his parents’ home in the ‘50s so that they could get electricity. Later, he would go to trade school and get a certificate. He worked in maintenance for his job at Eaton and I daresay that he was likely the best man to figure out how to fix any problem that any machine there had. I also dare to say that if he could not fix it, it was just not fixable.

 

                                                                 Dad making a radio.

This talent has helped him on the farm too. He has fixed many a piece of malfunctioning, or nonfunctioning farm machinery until it was once again working. He can wire, grind, solder, weld… whatever is needed in order to fix what needs fixing. He did all of this and farmed while working a full-time job, often while working overtime at Eaton. Somedays he would be hauling hay during the day and then go into work at Eaton during the evening.

Dad will be 84 this year and still, if you need his help, all you need do is ask for it.

 

Another thing that I admire about Dad is what a wonderful grandfather he is. He has four grandchildren and a great-grandchild and he loves them all so beautifully. He has read to them over the years and has also told them tales of his own making. At times he has been a horsey and other times a comfortable place to nap. He is Papaw. He is DeeDee, and now he is Peepaw. Most of all, he is well-loved and he has loved well in return.

                                        

                                        

  

And now he has a great-grandson too!

So here are just a few of many admirable traits exemplified by Dad. Just from the little that I have written, I have begun to wonder if perhaps Dad has an alter ego. I wonder if that alter ego may be going out performing superhero deeds in society on the sly before returning home to be our, quiet, unassuming humble patriarch.

Beautifully edited by Marion Meadows,

A Photo Restoration Free Service Angel

Connections; Past and Present

Connections; Past and Present

This is a tale. It is a tale about family history. It is a tale that demonstrates how seemingly random folks can come together in seemingly new ways. Those connections would seem to be new, but upon further inspection, we can see that those folks were not as random nor as unconnected as they first appeared.

Lewis Farmer was born in Hawkins County, Tennessee around 1798. His parents were Stephen and Nancy Russell Farmer. He would have at least 3 brothers and one sister. It seems that the family probably moved to Harlan County Kentucky sometime before 1801 because Lewis' brother David was born in that year and David was born in Harlan.

Now, sometime in the 1790s, a baby girl was born. Much uncertainty surrounds her birth. I cannot be sure of the date she was born or even where she was born. One census indicates that she was born in 1793 in North Carolina and another indicates that she was born in 1797 in Tennessee. The state of Tennessee was admitted into the Union in 1796 from land ceded to the United States by North Carolina. Perhaps this can account for the confusion, or perhaps the person providing the census taker with information just gave bad information. I cannot even tell you the name of this baby's parents, except to assume, perhaps erroneously, that at least one of her parents had the surname of Hurley, as this baby girl's name was Anna Hurley.

I do not know anything about Anna after her birth until September 25, 1816. It was in Harlan County, Kentucky on that date that she was married to Lewis Farmer. Lewis was 18, and God knows the age of Anna, but I don't. The Lewis and Anna Hurley Farmer family seemed to have stayed in Harlan County for the remainder of their lives. They would have at least 6 children. One daughter, Mary Polly was born in 1829, and another daughter Eliza would be born in 1833.

 

Now there was another family, the Joseph and Mary Marsee Nolen family, residing in Harlan County in 1830. The Nolens had 3 children in 1830. Another child, a son, Joseph Jr would be born in 1831. The Nolen family would reside for the rest of their lives in Harlan County, having at least 13 children.

                                                           Joseph Nolen (from Ancestry)

Another family of interest to our tale is the Nathan and Judith Shumate Harris family. This family was also longtime residents of Harlan County, Kentucky. The couple was married on July 5, 1815, in Harlan County. They would continue to live there for years having a family of at least 7 children. One of those children was a boy named Preston born in 1821.

                                                           Nathan Harris (from Ancestry)

Now, these families all lived in Harlan County. I don't know how familiar you are with Harlan, but it is for certain in the Appalachians. My Mom, Loretta Nolen Smith has never had trouble with getting carsick, but she says that riding through those mountains in Harlan County changed that. There are mountains in all directions, and those mountains form a barrier, a vacuum of sorts.

Now back in the early 1800s, the US highways and interstates that we know today were not even a "gleam in their Daddy's eyes" In fact, those Daddy's were not even a gleam in their Daddy's eyes. Cars were not produced until the late 1800s and did not become common in families until the late 1920s and early 1930s. The railroad didn't make it to Harlan County until 1911. Of course, the Cumberland River and its tributaries are county features, and river travel was probably availed as possible, but much travel back in the early 1800s was probably by mule, horse, or on foot. Knowing that you might imagine that travel was difficult and tiresome at best. Bein in a mountainous area, as you might imagine, did nothing to make that travel any easier.

My Gma Smith used to call courting "sparking". You can imagine that sparking was a pastime much more pleasant when done in the area you lived. Nowadays, folks carry on "long-distance relationships" with ease. We can telephone our "sparkees" and can hear their voice. We can FaceBook and email almost instantaneously. We can facetime, skype,..... and actually see them while they are talking. We can drive many miles in little time and in the comfort of our automobiles so that we can be with them, but back in the early to mid-1800s, these were just more of those Daddy's gleams.

So this community, initially known as Mt Pleasant, lay amongst the splendor of the mountains, isolated to a large degree by that splendor. Harlan County probably seemed like the world to these folks. Of course, folks did sojourn over those mountains to other communities, but it was probably a rather daunting expedition not taken lightly. Now I imagine, that as isolated as it seemed to be, the folks within that community probably were pretty familiar with just about all of the folks that lived within that community. Folks may have had the entire width of the county between their homes, but they likely ran into each other while in town trading for the goods they were unable to raise on their own. They probably met at the post office or saw each other at Sunday meetings. They probably traveled to the homes of other families in the area to barter something they had for something that their neighbor lacked in return for something their neighbor had that they lacked. My parents have told me about folks getting together when they were growing up in Owsley and Clay counties on different occasions. For example, a man might travel with a portable mill to make molasses. Folks would bring their harvested sorghum cane to a central location and the folks would make a fun event out of doing a chore. So folks within the county were probably all at least acquaintances. It is not difficult to imagine the families that I have mentioned knowing each other.

So the convenience of proximity often made the proximity of a sparkee a very attractive thing, and we can see that each of these families called Harlan County, Kentucky home. It is not surprising that Cupid's arrow might strike close to home!

Mary Polly Farmer, daughter of Lewis and Anna Hurley Farmer would marry Preston Harris, son of Nathan and Judith Shumate Harris. Her sister Eliza would marry Joseph Nolen, son of Joseph Sr and Mary Marsee Nolen. The union of Mary Polly Farmer and Preston Harris would produce Elizabeth "Betty" Harris in April of 1845. 

                                                 Elizabeth "Betty" Harris (from Ancestry)

The union of Eliza Farmer and Joseph Nolen Jr would produce Sarah Elizabeth "Bettie Ma" Nolen on January 14, 1861. This would make Sarah Elizabeth "Bettie Ma" Nolen and Elizabeth Betty Harris first cousins.

                                                      Sarah Elizabeth "Bettie Ma" Nolen

So, many family members nowadays may not be aware of the longevity of the connection between the"Smith" and the "Nolen" families. That connection began way back on March 22, 1853, when Eliza Farmer, the sister of Mary Polly Farmer Harris married Joseph Nolen Jr, forever tying the results of those unions together. So when my father Donald Smith and my mother Loretta Nolen wed on December 21, 1957, unbeknownst to either of them, fourth cousins married.

                                                         Donald and Loretta Nolen Smith

Years after the fact, when my parents would find out about this kinship, Dad would jokingly ask, "Does that mean we have to get an annulment?" Mom, just looked at him and said, "No Don, that just means we can't sleep together anymore!" I think that they are a match made in Heaven!

And that is how new connections are not always as new as they would seem!

            

                                      Anna Hurley              &                Lewis Farmer
                             3rd Great-Grandmother                     3rd Great-Grandfather

________________________________________________________________________________

                                              V                                                                 V
                                                   
                           Mary Polly Farmer Harris         <Sisters>          Eliza Farmer Nolen

                           _____________________                               ________________

 
                           V                                                                                            V

       

       Elizabeth (Betty) Harris King               <First Cousins>           Sarah Elizabeth (Bettie Maw) Nolen

                                        

   ____________________________                                               _____________________________

                  V                                                                                                                             V

         Rhoda King Middleton                         <2nd Cousins>                            Joseph Nolen
_________________________                                                            ______________________

                                

________________________________                                        _____________________________

        V                                                                                                                                              V

Nancy Middleton Smith                              <Third Cousins>                                Boyd Nolen

                                             
   _______________ _____________                                                  _________________________

                   V                                                                                                                         V

    Donald Smith                                         <Fourth Cousins>                                    Loretta Nolen

         

Christmas Commotion: A Jooniebug and Grannyma Tale

 

Christmas was just a few days away and Jooniebug’s family was visiting with Grannyma and Baba. It was bedtime and Jooniebug and Grannyma had already said their prayers when Grannyma asked Jooniebug what bedtime story she would like to read.

Joonie thought a minute and then asked, “Grannyma, can you tell me the story about when you were a little girl and Uncle Olen spent the night on Christmas Eve?”

Grannyma smiled and said, “Well Jooniebug, let me see if I can remember that one. Hmmmmm, okay, I think I remember the one you are talkin’ about.”

“Years ago, when I was just a little girl, about your age right now Jooniebug, Uncle Olen was visitin’ with Mom, Dad, your Uncle David and me. Now we lived in a little house on Knox Avenue in Dayton, Ohio. It was a small house and it only had one official bedroom that my mom and dad slept in. Our livin’ room reached from one side of the house to the other and my bed was in the corner of the livin’ room. Your Uncle David slept in a room between the livin’ room and the kitchen.  

                                    
                                             My brother David on Knox porch

                                    Me on my bed in the corner of the living room

Now, I have to tell you somethin’ else. Mom, your great-grandma, did not work outside the home but she did take in ironin’ from other folks so that she and your papaw could have a little extra money. Your great-grandma had a metal rack in the livin’ room that she would hang the clothes on after she ironed them. They would stay on that rack until folks came to pick them up.

So, now let me continue with my story Jooniebug before I forget what story I’m tellin’! Your Great-Great Uncle Olen was visitin’ with us and it was the night before Christmas. My bed was in one corner of the livin’ room and the Christmas tree was on the opposite side of the livin’ room. Now between my bed and the Christmas tree, Uncle Olen slept on a pallet on the floor and your great-grandma’s clothes rack, which held lots of ironed clothes, was close to Uncle Olen’s feet.

 

                                                  

                                      Uncle Olen around the time of the story

Now, remember Jooniebug, it’s Christmas Eve. I had probably had a hard time goin’ to sleep because I was so excited that Santa was goin’ to visit durin’ the night! I am certain that it had probably taken me longer than usual to get to sleep but I did fall asleep. Now, sometime durin’ the night though, I woke up. It probably took me a couple seconds to wipe the sleep cobwebs from my mind and remember that it was Christmas Eve but I did remember!

I didn’t know what time it was. I didn’t know if it was still Christmas Eve or if it was Christmas mornin’. I lay there awake wonderin’ if Santa had already come or not. I looked toward the tree in the opposite corner, but it was still dark and I couldn’t see under the tree. I lay there wonderin’ and wonderin’. Everyone else was still asleep. I knew that I would have to wait to open the presents that Santa had brought if he had already come, but still, I had to know if he had come yet or not! I still lay there wonderin’ and wonderin’. Finally, I came up with a plan! I would quietly get out of bed and I would quietly make my way past Uncle Olen over to the tree and perhaps, if I got close enough, I could at least see if anything was under the tree!

I had a plan Jooniebug and so I followed that plan. I quietly climbed out of bed because I didn’t want to wake anyone, especially Uncle Olen who was asleep on the floor between me and the tree. I tip-toed quiet as a mouse past Uncle Olen’s feet and I quietly drew close to the tree where I saw that Santa had been to our house already! I was so excited that on my way back to my bed, as I was passing between Uncle Olen’s feet and the rack holding Mom’s ironing, I bumped into that rack!

Oh, Jooniebug, I bumped into that rack and much to my horror it began to fall! Yes, that Christmas mornin’ came in early and it came in with quite a commotion! Uncle Olen was not just awakened but he was awakened by a rack of Mom’s ironin’. Why I cannot imagine what he must have thought before he wiped sleep’s cobwebs from his mind! He may have thought he was bein’ attacked by an intruder!

Needless to say, the confusion and commotion caused by my curiosity and impatience awakened the whole house! Thankfully, no one seemed to be that upset with me; and in spite of everyone wakin’ up a bit earlier than usual, we got to open our presents from Santa a bit earlier too.

You know, I can’t remember what I found under the Christmas tree that year Jooniebug, but I reckon that I will never forget what I found under your great grandma’s clothes rack. I found”

“Uncle Olen!” Grannyma and Jooniebug exclaimed in unison.

“Now, it is time for you to go to sleep Jooniebug”, Grannyma said as she slipped out of bed and pulled the cover up to Joonie’s chin.

Grannyma looked back at Joonie as she closed the door on her way out. She could see her sweet Joonie’s smile as she said quietly, “Good night, love you, sweet dreams Darlin’.” And silently she said, “Thanks God for blessin’ me with my sweet Jooniebug.”

The Inspirational Family Clown

This is written in response to the question: Who inspires you?

My family inspires me. Oh, there have been figures throughout history and more recent public figures that have provided inspiration, but none are as inspiring to me as my own family. I suppose that I know that family members live more similar lives to me. They aren’t wealthy or famous. They are ordinary like me and I can better believe that “if they can do it then so can I”.

Past family members inspire me every time I learn something new about their lives. They had no fame or fortune either. They had difficult lives but they faced those difficulties with tenacity and grace. This serves as an inspiration to me.

I have many current family members who also inspire me. My parents inspire me. My husband can inspire me. My children inspire me. Even my little three-year-old granddaughter provides inspiration. Her ability to love without seeing race, religion, social standing … makes me long to do the same. Her adventurousness, sweetness, and empathy provide an example that we could all stand to aspire to. Many family members have inspired me but I want to talk about my mom’s brother, Uncle Olen.

Uncle Olen told me that when he first met my husband, my husband told him that he had him figured out. Uncle Olen asked what he meant and my husband told him that he was the family clown. Uncle Olen laughed and told him that he took that as a compliment. My husband told him that it was meant as one.

If a room is quiet, Uncle Olen isn’t in it; he is the loudest person in the room! He loves to talk and he loves to make folks laugh. He is constantly coming up with hare-brained stories.

One story involves Mom making moonshine, which is something that past family members were quite familiar with. There was a little cave/sinkhole at the back of my parents’ property. Uncle Olen swore that my mom had a still in this little hideaway where she was keeping on the family tradition of making moonshine. Sometimes when he called from Ohio, he would say that the price of potatoes had gone up and Mom must have caused a scarcity buying them all up to make “tater shine”. The next time, the price of apples would be up so Mom must be running a batch of apple shine.

Uncle Olen decided that Mom needed to make me her enforcer to protect her and made sure that no one started horning in on her shine territory! Once at a family reunion, he bought a stoneware jug and gave it to Mom as a souvenir of her moonshining days. He also bought his grandson’s paintball gun and we posed for a photo of the master shiner, her enforcer, and Uncle Olen.


                                                        
                                       The Master Shiner, the Enforcer and Uncle Olen Nolen



Another story involves the weather. We have several Persian carpets so I am the captain of a “magic flying” carpet. Uncle Olen and Aunt Lola live in Ohio. Mom and I live in Tennessee, and Aunt Fanny lives in Georgia. Whenever the weather gets hinky, Uncle Olen says that I have picked Mom and my aunts up on my magic carpet and we are up in the stratosphere making the weather crazy. So when the weather is crazy, we get a call from Uncle Olen telling me to keep my carpet grounded!

Uncle Olen likes to tell the story that Granny told him that he wasn’t born like his siblings had been born. Supposedly, she told him that once just before he arrived, a bad storm had come and there was flooding. The flooding had washed away the outhouse. Granny went outside and saw a little turd floating down the rain-swollen creek and she scooped it up. That little turd turned out to be Uncle Olen! Now, Mom says that Granny would never tell a story like that but I don’t know. She was telling it to Uncle Olen and that is just the kind of funny story that he would enjoy hearing!

Uncle Olen tells another story about my granddaughter. Since she was due to be born very close to the Marine Corps birthday, he swears that she is going to grow up to be the first female Commandant of the Marine Corps. She was actually born a few days after the Marine Corps birthday, but Uncle Olen says that November 10th is her official birthday. He says that his little jarhead Commandant can just celebrate two birthdays!


                                               
                                           Uncle Olen and his little jarhead Commandant



Uncle Olen jokes with everyone and if you are around him long and haven’t at least cracked a smile, someone might need to check your pulse!

So, Uncle Olen’s desire to spread joy and laughter is inspiring in and of itself; but his ability to do this is pretty incredible to me. Here is a bit of backstory to explain what I mean:

My Grandma Rachel died when Uncle Olen was only three. My, then nine-year-old, mom was the oldest of Grandma and Grandpa’s children. Grandpa Boyd tried to keep the family together but he just could not do it. Uncle Olen and his brothers, Billy and Ronnie, ended up in a children’s home. Their sisters Lola and Fanny also ended up in a home. Mom and Uncle Johnnie went to live with Uncle Bug and Aunt Alta in Ohio.


                                           
                         At the home; Olen, in front with eyes covered, and his siblings



Uncle Olen has told me that he didn’t care for studying and he often was in trouble at the home. He got into more than one fight with the other boys. The children’s home had a basketball court though and he would spend lots of time on the court shooting hoops. I imagine that this gave him less time to get into trouble. He grew to love basketball.

Somehow, the coach of the basketball team of a neighboring school saw Uncle Olen and thought that he had the potential to be a good player. He talked with Olen and asked him if he would like to attend the school he coached at and play ball. He told Olen that he could arrange for it to happen but Olen would have to promise to keep his grades up and stay out of trouble. Uncle Olen loved basketball and was happy to make the promise.

Uncle Olen has told me that this basketball coach took him under his wing and says that if had not been for this coach, he would have probably never taken his studies seriously and would have probably gotten into more and more trouble. He may have even ended up a dropout and/or in jail. This coach seemed to have a big positive impact on Uncle Olen.

Soon, Uncle Olen’s life was filled with basketball. He spent enough time on his studies to keep that part of the bargain with his coach, but most of his efforts went into basketball…and probably some went into staying out of trouble. He would attend practices, camps, tournaments… He became very, very good; so good that he was offered a full scholarship to the University of Kentucky to play basketball for them after high school graduation.

Sometime before he graduated though, one of his friends who had been in the military was killed in Vietnam. A Marine recruiter came to campus encouraging the seniors to enlist after graduation. Uncle Olen was told that they would send him to officers training school after boot camp if he enlisted.

Uncle Olen had a decision to make and he had decided to enlist. My dad told him that if he enlisted, he would be sent to Nam and not officers training school but Uncle Olen wanted to do something to honor his friend’s sacrifice. He enlisted.

Uncle Olen went through boot camp at Camp Lejeune. There was no officers training afterward; he was sent to Vietnam where he took part in a war and its horrors.


                                                    


I have a memory from my childhood. My family is returning home from somewhere, probably from visiting family. We drive up and see an olive green sedan parked in front of our house. I don’t know how Mom and Dad reacted, but I remember a sense of dread. We got out of the car and someone gets out of the sedan and approaches us.

Looking back, I am certain that Mom was expecting to hear that her brother Olen had been killed in Vietnam. The news was not good but Uncle Olen was alive. He had been hit by mortar shrapnel and was seriously injured. The doctors had wanted to amputate his leg but Uncle Olen refused to let them. The doctors told him that he would have more pain down the road by trying to keep his leg but Uncle Olen adamantly refused amputation. He was just barely an adult and could not imagine the rest of his life without both of his legs.

Uncle Olen was eventually able to come home. He came home with two legs but he would not be able to play basketball like he had dreamed of doing. He would likely not even be able to scrimmage in pickup games.

Over the years, Uncle Olen has experienced much pain due to his injuries from the war. Those injuries were not only from mortar shrapnel but from exposure to Agent Orange. Those injuries also included the shattering of dreams.

I have asked Uncle Olen if he has ever felt bitter about being misled by the recruiters, about being shipped directly to Vietnam instead of attending officers training school. I have asked him if he has ever regretted his decision to enlist rather than playing basketball for the The University of Kentucky, still his favorite team.

Uncle Olen told me that he had thought about that over the years. He says that he figures that if he had attended UK, he would have probably ended up becoming an accountant. He would have probably stayed somewhere in Eastern Kentucky or somewhere in the Cincinnati/Dayton area of Ohio. He probably would have had a desk job and not traveled in more than a few states.

Uncle Olen has said that the Vietnam war was hell. He had seen and done many horrible things that he wished that he had never seen nor had to do, but being in the Marines allowed him to travel to many different places in the world. Being in the military allowed him to see many people of different races with different cultures, different religions… He has said that if he had not joined the Marines, he would have never been able to experience that.

So, Uncle Olen has told me that he reckons that if he had it to do all over again, he would have still enlisted in the Marines. That is the main reason Uncle Olen is so inspirational to me. He has been able to find the positive in a sea of negative. His experiences have helped him to see that as different as people are, they are more similar than different. Suffering and loss have not made him bitter, they have made him better. His decision to join the Marines may have deprived him of the joy he experienced while playing basketball, but he is able to see the joys that he hasn’t been deprived of and to concentrate on those. He has done all of this while having an imaginative sense of humor and he has used it to spread the joy of laughter to others. I find that to be truly inspiring!