Ken was a machinist by trade – I believe this photo was taken at his shop when it was first opened
Ken was proud of his mountain family and pleased to have been a member of it. In later years he often told me he was the last of the Mohicans since he was the only one of his family still living. He missed his brothers and his parents terribly and often talked about them.
Today’s post contains some of my favorite stories that Ken shared over the years about his brothers.
I wasn’t born until ’48 and the Korean War broke out two or three years later. After the War was over, a knock came to our door one night about 10 o’clock. Daddy went outside and pulled the light on. It was Bud (mama called him Buddie, he was one of my older brothers) and I had never seen this police-looking man, besides he was making Daddy and Mama cry. I thought he must be okay though, me and Harold was peeping thru a front porch window, when all the excitement was over, we went out on the porch with them.
Bud bent over to give me some lovin’, but I ran back in and hid under the kitchen table. By morning he seemed alright, and I climbed up in his lap.
Mama told me this story one time about the war,
Bud was left at the camp while his buddies went out to scout around for the enemy. While they were gone, my brother was having some breakfast, and he noticed something nearby. His gun was across the way, and by then it was too late. A North Korean was pointing a gun straight at him. But the strangest thing happened, he was half-starved to death, didn’t have no bullets, and wanted to surrender. Bud immediately took care of him and when his buddies returned, he made sure they told whoever was in charge, the story.
I recon God takes care of His own.
Mama told me these stories about Bud and Joel when they were young.
Bud was almost 2 years older than Joel, but back then neither of them could “tawk pyane”. So one morning at the breakfast table, Bud was crumbling his biscuits ahead of Joel, when he hollered “Pass the gavy, pass the gavy.” Joel looked up and trying to impress Daddy and Mama said, “I’ll swannie, Bud, if I touldn’t say gavy no better n’ nat, I’d dist say dreese and trit!”
Another time Daddy had just bought Bud and Joel new shoes to wear to school, which started in just a few weeks. Well, they both decided to break ’em in, so they wore them down to the “Green Hole” across from where they lived. When they got to the Green Hole (a long hole in the Nantahala River near the Quarry Road), Bud backed Joel out on throwing their new shoes in to see if the River would swallow up anything that was thrown in (story goes there’s no bottom in there).
Somewhere under the top of the water it rolls like a barrel and it was dangerous to swim in. If you went over too far, you could get pulled under. Anyway, they got a good whoppin’ when they got home.
When I was a little thing, Daddy told me to stay at the house with Mama. He took most of my older brothers to get cook wood for the winter, they had already got heating wood earlier. That is where Harold got his nickname, he was almost 7 back then.
John was sawing a pretty big locust with our David-Bradley Chainsaw, and got it lodged between two big trees. They didn’t know what to do and John was a good sawer. If he could get that David-Bradley cranked, there wasn’t any quitting.
Harold leaned on the locust and it fell. They had almost given up and it come loose just as Harold leaned against it. John watched it fall and called it a “Giant” of a man who could make that thing come loose. It stuck with Harold all thru these years, I never called him that, I called him a bunch of things when I was mad at him, but we’ll not go into that.
After we got businesses of our own, and Daddy and Mama was gone, I never called him ‘Giant’, he was my best friend, and closest brother.
When I was growing up we had a woodstove too, complete with a warming closet on top. Mama could make the best biscuits and cornbread you ever saw. Me and Harold would sneak out of bed at night and see if they were any leftovers of cornbread and pinto beans. We’d get us a plate or bowl of ’em and have us a feast. That was before dope heads and such was even thought about. We didn’t even lock our doors. Mama and Daddy was in the next room, but they didn’t care anyway. They knew it was just us looking for something to fill our craw till breakfast. Oh, how I wish I could relive those times.
Me and Harold sung at churches all around us when we were small. One time at Hewitt’s, just before you get to the entrance of the Quarry, Harley Grant was the Sunday School Superintendent at the time and they were running a Revival. After some singers had their turn, the house was packed and ole Harley stood up and ask “are the Roper Boys in the house?” Well, me and Harold got up on the stage there and let her fly. We sang “My Lord Keeps a Record” and “I Have but one Goal.” This brought the house down, we got a standing ovation and it made us feel good. We were only about 6 or 7 and 9 or 10 back then, but we had feelings, and the applause was appreciated.
Another time we were at Alarka and the roads were crooked, coming thru the gorge. Me and Mama had got into it over something and I raised up and said “That’s OK but the next time I’ll not puke with you,” daddy just hollered a laughing.
I hope you enjoyed Ken’s stories about his brothers and parents. You can easily see he loved them dearly.
Last night’s video: Presentation on Celebrating Southern Appalachian Food – Recipes & Stories from Mountain Kitchens.
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Love all these stories and your videos on you tube!
God bless you
May God Bless you and your family Tipper! Praying for all!
Tipper, thank you again for allowing the time you dedicated to honor our Daddy in this way.
I was curious about that picture. It’s not familiar to me. Was it a Polaroid/instant photo? Laura thinks she may have taken that picture, possibly at the shop Daddy shared with 2 of his brothers, Harold and Joel. We both truly appreciated and enjoyed seeing that picture so much! Brought us needed smiles and memories. I’d love to have a copy one day if possible. Thank you again & again, for your friendship, this platform and your tribute this week.
Jennifer-You are welcome! Ken sent me that photo several years ago. I’ll be glad to send it to you as soon as I can 🙂
Ken’s brother Bud’s real name was Harley Gentry Roper. He married Betty Jo Brown from Watauga County. Their children Harley Jr., Clyde and Beverly Jo were born in Boone. Betty Jo’s family came from the Watauga and Wilkes County area. Yep, right there where you are going to be come Saturday. Yep, some of those waiting in line to get your signature might be Betty Jo’s kinfolks.
Not many of today’s readers will be familiar with the places Ken references in his stories. The places along the Nantahala are my old stomping ground. I lived at Alarka, where they went to church and sang, for a while. I should have asked Ken which church as there are several there. I drove through Topton, Granny Squirrel and Red Marble many times when we visited my sister in law and her husband in Andrews, never knowing who I was missing on the way.
Ken and I both have/had an older brother Harold. Ken and his Harold have now departed this vale of tears, my Harold and I are still in the struggle.
Praying for Miss Cindy!
Well ain’t that something…my great grandfather’s name was Harley Grant. Makes me wonder if it’s the same feller Mr Ken spoke of in his story. I think the timing would have been about right if he was just a boy then. Too bad everyone I could ask about it is passed on.
I want to purchase soap from Cori but cannot find it on Estey. Help me Tipper please
E.-she doesn’t have any listed right now, but once she does she will let you know if you email her at thepressleygirls@gmail.com and tell her you’d like to know. Thank you!
Thank you so much for these beautiful stories & a look into the past of Ken. He truly loved God & his family & it shouts loud & clear in his words.
Praying for his family & friends at this time as they remember his positive influence that he had on their lives.
Praying for Miss Cindy today that she will have comfort & little (or better still) no pain today.
Hugs!
Thank you for sharing these stories. I also wish they had been put in a book. There is no doubt Ken dearly loved his family.
Bless his heart! I pray Mr. Ken was welcomed into heaven with open arms and greeted by loved ones that have long gone on before him. Blessings everyone!!
The Ken Roper stories sure conjure up lot’s of memories., Tipper. This week’s wonderful tribute to Ken have been an exceptional read. Thanks for remembering Ken and sharing how very unique so many of our Appalachian folks really are. Rest In Peace, Ken.
Thanks for a wonderful post.
Wonderful stories. I am always amazed at what a machinist can create, it’s an amazing talent. There is nothing better than having a wonderful loving family.
I loved Ken’s stories, especially the one about his brother he had never seen. Sounds like the boys all grew up to be fine men that were raised by family-oriented parents.
I love the memories you are sharing! Thank you! I continue to hold Miss Cindy and all your family and Ken’s family in prayer. God bless you and your s❤❤
So glad you shared Ken’s stories. Love of family, love of siblings is more precious than gold. God bless your family and Miss Cindy. Please send her my love.
Nancy, I often say nothing on earth outside of my relationship with God is more valuable than the time and memories spent with family and true friends. You can not place a money value on this. I am blessed to be able to include my wife’s family -the whole shebang, aunts, uncles, cousins, in laws and outlaws. They have always treated me just like I was blood kin. I have many, many good memories of time spent with them.
Tipper, I failed to understand a few of the stories, but understood enough to know Ken Roper was a man with an interesting life from the beginning of it! I loved the photo of him at the Machine Shop. He had a head of thick dark hair and time was then on his side. I liked the story of Harold and the half starved surrendering enemy. I liked to hear of him and his brother eating in the midnight hour. Mountain people are good and kind til you cross us and then all hell will break loose when you mistake our kindness for weakness. May the Lord welcome in this sweet soul to heaven and of course heaven’s choir! I must mention LAINEY WILSON- Heart like a truck, A few things a man outa know—good good singing right there! Go get y’all some Lainey today! You can thank me later. Lol
What wonderful stories Ken shared with you about his family. He did indeed love his parents and brothers. I share in the longing of times gone by like he had too. It stumped me reading “twank pyane “ and what he said about gravy. I read it and thought that was nothing I’d ever heard before. Then after reading everything and going back to it again, I realized it meant he couldn’t talk plane, at that point I laughed at myself for being so stumped.
Randy and Tipper, that message rings loud and true. It is sad we don’t think to honor our loved ones with their stories before they pass. I think Ken would have loved knowing how we are honoring him and the values he passed on down to family and friends.
My Grandfather had one of those walk behind tractors that had seen much use and hadn’t run in probably more than a decade or two. When I finished active duty with our US Uncle our small family returned home and after working on multi-million dollar government stuff i figured i could fix just about anything so i set to tinkering with the old garden tractor. I was told it was no use and i was wasting time with it. Brokered a deal that if i could get it running i could have it. I still recall a slight smile when i plowed it across the yard and made a few passes before walking it to the far corner of the spread and parking it in my yard not his any more. That was nearly 30 years ago and it’s a fresh as today. But i’ll bet a good bit of your readers don’t account a pair of socks have been sufficiently broken in until they pass 30 years.
Ken’s story of singing “My Lord Keeps a Record” got me thinking of the words of that song. Words about living here to have a good record there. Seems to me like Ken lived that. And now the record is complete. I also think of something else. With a big immediate family, and an even larger extended one, there was opportunity for a wealth of good memories but also an opposing weight of sorrows. I think I read in an earlier post he was the last surviving member of his immediate family, a lonely place, but a temporary one and now ended.
I just love those old stories and I believe it all revolves around LOVE of family. It is so precious! That last ‘en caused me to “holler with laughter too:)” I agree, a book filled with those wonderful stories would sell out fast.
Does anyone remember the 2 wheel David Bradley “tractor” with handle bars. A lot of different attachments were made for it. My neighbor owned one of these. I saw a 3 wheel David Bradley tractor at a antique tractor show, third wheel was in back, it had a seat and steering wheel. Tipper, I may be wrong, but it seems like I saw in an old blog a picture of Pap in his garden using one of these 2 wheel tractors.
Randy-it wasn’t Pap but it might have been a photo from a guest poster?
Could have been- my memory and the memory on an outdated computer are a lot alike- not very good. I need to write this down and give it to my wife when I get to see her in heaven, she would tease me and say in your mind you are never wrong! I never argued with her, but would just explain why I was right! So far today has been one of my “up” days.
Randy. I’ve seen one of those 2-wheel David Bradley tractors. It was a long time ago, but a man that lived near us had one and I thought something was wrong with it because of it only having 2 wheels. I was young so I didn’t know any better. Can you imagine what one of those would be worth now days?
Gloria, you got my curiosity up, so I looked them up on EBay. The average price for the ones on eBay were around $500. I wonder what the price would have been when they were new.
Thanks for sharing Ken’s stories. It appears he had a loving family growing up!
Have a wonderful day!
Just looked up David Bradley chainsaws – if you have one or parts – don’t give them away – they’re worth some $$$. Daddy had a big, gray chainsaw from Sears in the 1960s but I’m not sure it was a David Bradley.
So glad Ken wrote these stories down. A book of them would be nice indeed. His stories do show the closeness and love that families shared as they worked together to have enough to live.
Delightful! Simply delightful!
I love reading stories like these stories. It is a shame that Ken’s stories aren’t collected and put into a book. We owned a worn out David-Bradley chainsaw when I was a kid. This was a brand of equipment sold by Sears and Roebuck. I was told these saws weighed around 35-40 lbs, I only know it was very heavy when compared to today’s chainsaws. It took a “Man” to run of these saws. These stories are funny but to me there is a hidden message in them, it is the joy of working, spending time, and making memories of being with your family.
Randy-I notice the same message 🙂 Glad you are enjoying the stories!!