About This Blog

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I have loved things Country and Western all of my life. I have loved the ranches and farms, the work, the fields, the barns, livestock, and the food. I was born and raised in Kentucky where I learned to ride and care for horses. Most of my family lived on farms and/or were livestock producers. I have raised various livestock and poultry over the years.I have sold livestock feed and minerals in two states. My big hats and boots are only an outward manifestation of the country life I hold dear to my heart. With the help of rhyme or short story, in recipes or photos, I make an effort in this blog to put into words my day to day observations of all things rural; the things that I see and hear, from under my hat. All poems and short stories, unless noted otherwise, are authored by me. I hope you enjoy following along.

Friday, June 3, 2022

A Hero Departed


 How do you express in just a few words what 69 years of having the greatest father on  earth has meant? Just the highlights alone would require hours, if not days, of conversation. He was a great man who lived 88 years in the strength of humility. His greatest quality was kindness. He was a quiet, humble man and liked/loved by all. I’ll simply share a few memories with you at this time.

I remember being just a toddler and running to my parents bedroom early in the morning, jumping on the bed, and pleading , “Show me your muscles, Dad!” He would eventually relent and hoist those big guns that Shelby County, Ky. farm life had built. I remember being awestruck by those biceps and thinking, “ My dad must be the strongest man on earth!”

He’d take me fishing. He taught me patience, or at least tried to. He’d say, “Boy, you can’t catch a thing taking that line in and out of the water. Let it set. Be patient, you catch fish by waiting.” When I hauled my first fish to the bank of that creek in Bardstown Jct, Kentucky, I remember thinking, ”My dad is the greatest fisherman on earth.”

Lee Dennie fixed everything himself. He was amazingly resourceful. Once,  he wanted a large room addition on the house, complete with vaulted ceilings and a fireplace. Despite never having tackled a project like that before, he just built it. He asked for advice and an occasional helping hand… but Dad built it himself. And it looked amazing. He also fixed his own cars. 

By the time I was 8 years old, I knew a crescent wrench from a boxed-in wrench, a blade from a Philips screwdriver, and how to socket up a ratchet. Just from helping my dad. He taught my little brother, Ivan,  and I so well that, as teenagers, we could buy an engine for a car or truck at the junk yard at 8:00 in the morning on a Saturday, put it in the  vehicle, and be driving around town before dark. Ivan and I replaced a transmission in an old Ford Fairlane by straddling a ditch with the car and laying timbers and plywood at an angle to keep us up out of the water. We were in Illinois. Dad was home in Kentucky. I was 18, Ivan was 14. Dad had taught us well. I called again, and again, and again over the years for help and advice about car mechanics (and every other kind of advice) .You see, we thought “Dad was the greatest mechanic on earth”.

He was a fast pitch softball player at one time. He could make a softball  dip and dive and curve like an amusement park roller coaster. I remember one time he was practicing pitching. He came to me and showed me how to squat down like a catcher, and where to hold the glove. He said to me, “Dont move that glove no matter what. The ball is going to come right there in your glove.” Well, he backed up, snapped that ball off of his hip, and that ball blazed. It went up and down and everywhere but where  my glove was, so I did what he told me not to, I moved the glove. Big mistake! The ball landed exactly where he said it would.  Problem was,  there was no glove there now. I’ve always been known as a bass singer in my adult life, but because I didn’t listen to him that time, I honestly thought I would be singing tenor all of my life. He was, to me, the greatest pitcher on earth.

There was a time when I did not revere my dad as I should. I was 19 years old, after all, what else was there for me to learn about life? I had all the answers now! Sure I did. My hair got long and my vision short. My dreams were big but my thoughts were small. I went out of town… and off the rails. But in a couple of years my brain returned. So, I called Dad and said I needed to come home for a little bit.

 In “Death Of The Hired Man” by Robert Frost, there is a line that reads ”Home is the place where, when you have no place left to go, they have to take you in.”  I remember Dad saying “I’m glad you’re comin home, but remember, the rules and conditions are the same now as when you left.” I remember thinking that my dad was “the most steadfast man on earth”.

Time doesn’t permit me to tell of the help he gave us over the years after Patty and I were married. He seldom admonished but always encouraged. He always told us to love and raise our girls in the Truth of Gods word. He cherished his grandchildren and great-grandchildren above all the gold in the world.  He mostly just kept living a Godly life before us. One of the greatest examples on earth.

 The last few years for Dad were rough, at times very, very rough. There was no “Why me”, however,  no anger at his conditions;  just a progressing weariness met with humility and resolve. He beat the heavy odds against him time and again. Finally,  God said ” Lee, my good and faithful servant, it’s been enough. Come home and rest”. 

He remained to the end  the Elder of the little flock who met in his home on Wednesdays and Sundays. His trembling voice would lead the meeting, his trembling hands would pass the communal bread and  wine. In the last days he could become confused about the order of the meeting, but when it came time for him to speak, there was a clear spiritual message every time. Dad loved God and demonstrated it everyday. He was one of the most humble men on earth.

So we have come today to honor his good and simple life. To say goodbye and release the tears that those left behind must shed. A time of joy and sorrow interwoven.

I’m gonna miss you Dad. There’s a hole in my heart the size of Texas. But, I know that you’re  finally getting the peace and rest you so richly deserve. I promise to try hard to live up to your expectations. I’ve had nearly 7 decades of the best example I could possibly have. I’ll try hard. 

After all, Dad, when I grow up, I want to be just like you. 

Love, your oldest son, Kevin