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Following Trails Grown Dim

Sometimes It Takes A Hero

By Sam Perry Every boy needs a hero. Girls probably need them, too, but I don’t know enough about girls to render an opinion about that. For boys, however, heroes are essential elements of the maturation process.  Without them, they never, completely, grow up, but become locked in a closet of childhood and never learn…

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A Nose For Trouble

By Sam Perry Other than having the same name and being about the same age, Sam and I had little in common with each other, but we were the best of friends. You might say we saw each other eye to eye. Most people were quick to agree that I was, certainly, the better looking…

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He Ain’t Sick, He’s Just Got The Ague

By Sam Perry Sometimes, on quiet Sunday afternoons, I enjoy visiting the graves of my long-departed relatives who lie at rest in many of the old cemeteries in McCreary County. Recently, I visited one of my favorites, the Bruce-Shepherd Cemetery which is located just above Laurel Creek out on Highway 478.  It is a very…

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Teardrops Falling In The Snow

Mac McCarty stared at the papers splayed before him and tried to focus his attention on the job at hand.  It was not an easy task. As Lands Officer for the infant Laurel Ranger District of the Cumberland National Forest, it was his responsibility to make sense of the myriad parcels of worn-out farmland the…

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The Measure Of A Man

By Sam Perry The man closed his eyes and listened to the doxology that rose, like incense, from the men, women, and children standing in front of him.  Their angelic voices, united in common prayer, were comforting, and he felt the presence of a God who knows  no rich or poor, no strong or weak,…

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Flower Cave

By Sam Perry A note to my loyal readers: This column appeared in The Voice about twenty years ago. Because, at this time of year, I spend more time with my hands wrapped around a goose-neck hoe than curled over a keyboard, I am using it as a retread. Thanks for your patience. In 1945,…

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Father Of The Moonbow

By Sam Perry The mid-day sun drilled down upon the foam-flecked backs of wheezing mules as they leaned against the leather collars tethering them to the wagon.  The wagon was heavy and they struggled to pull it through the sandy bottoms and rocky inclines of a road that seemed to have no end. They had…

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A Day To Remember

By Sam Perry On the morning of September 27, 1946, a slightly built man in a pin-striped suit peered through wire-rimmed spectacles and addressed a group of children in the rich baritone that had put him in demand by Gospel quartets throughout the Big South Fork River region. The children, transfixed respect and a bit…

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A new way of learning

By Sam Perry There were twelve of them and they stood with their backs against the wall, listening intently to words coming from a slender man dressed in a green uniform. They did not appear fearful, but their faces betrayed a common sense of bewilderment and apprehension that had been theirs ever since they had…

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When We Practice To Deceive

By Sam Perry  “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” That memorable phrase by Sir Walter Scott came to mind at a recent meeting of the McCreary County Historical and Genealogical Society when Tony Kidd, McCreary County Road Supervisor, presented a copy of a plat map to the Society.…

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