Three Chords and the Truth

Three Chords and the Truth

A Music Memoir

 

By Dennis D. Price

© 2022

 

     I first heard the phrase “Three Chords and the Truth” a few years ago. It was coined by a country music songwriter by the name of Harlan Howard. (He wrote, among many other songs “Heartaches by the Number”, recorded by Ray Price [no relation!] and “I Fall to Pieces”, recorded by Patsy Cline.) He coined the phrase to describe many of the country music songs which consisted of three chords (the I, IV, and V chords) in a particular key. Not sure about the truth part, but it is an intriguing quote. Harlan’s words did not quite fit me because when I learned chords on the guitar, I started out learning four chords. More about that later.

     What follows is the truth…to the best of my recollection!

My earliest memories of music or guitar playing, or singing was listening to my dad (Basil D. Price) sing and play. He was a country music fan. He often talked about listening to the Grand Ole Opry on the radio when he was young. He played the guitar and banjo. I think sometimes he had played with a couple of others at some square dances in earlier years as well. 

     I remember in the late 1950s he brought home an electric guitar. It was a Gibson Les Paul, Jr solid body guitar. He had purchased an amplifier, also. I just now realize that since that day, I don’t think I’ve ever been very far from a guitar of one kind or another—nearly 65 years!

     I was fascinated with my dad playing the Gibson and singing songs. A couple of the songs I remember best were “Old Shep” and “Cowboy Jack.” “Old Shep” would always make my sister, Debbie, cry. And I was always sad to know that Cowboy Jack wanted to make up with his girlfriend, but when he went back to where she was, he learned that she had died just a few days before. My dad probably sang some happier songs, but those two songs were memorable. 

     My dad enjoyed listening to Tennessee Earnie Ford. We had an album of hymns that Tennessee Earnie Ford sang. The album contained a “hymnbook” that one could use to sing along.

     Somewhere along the way, my dad said, “If you learn how to play the guitar, I will give you the Gibson.” More about that later.

     Not sure whose idea it was to take piano lessons. Either my brother, Greg, and I wanted to, or our parents wanted us to. So, for at least a couple of years (maybe more), we took piano lessons from Gladys Williams. She was the organist/pianist at our church. We learned the notes and how to count and some songs. The piano lessons did not really stick with me, probably because I didn’t practice enough. But I do remember a couple of things. In one of the books there was a duet of the song “She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain.” One part was for the student, one part was for the teacher. I learned the student’s part, and I also learned the teacher’s part. I can still play the teacher’s part if someone wants to play “She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain”! The other memorable thing about piano lessons was the one recital that I was in. It was held at the Presbyterian Church in Greenfield. My piece that I memorized was “Mexican Jumping Beans.” I can still play that song, too! I guess if I wanted to know more songs by heart, I should have been in more recitals!

     When I was in fifth grade, I started taking cornet lessons from the band teacher, Mr. Ruble. I still have the Conn cornet from those days. I didn’t get very far with that endeavor either. After a couple of years in band I decided not to continue.

     I think it was about this time that I started learning the guitar. I couldn’t get my fingers to play the chords very well, so I figured out how to play the guitar by note. Since I had piano and cornet lessons, I knew the notes. All I had to do was figure out where those were on the guitar. I got pretty good at playing by note. This skill has come in handy if I need to find out the melody of an unfamiliar song.

     At this point, I need to tell the story of learning a unique song when I was about eight years old. Even before I could play the guitar, I was intrigued with Leroy Van Dyke’s song, “The Auctioneer.”[1] My Uncle Dub (My dad’s brother—George Washington Price.) had a 45 rpm record of the song. It was on the Dot record label. I played it several times at my grandma’s house and then asked my uncle if I could borrow it. He said yes. I took it home and began the slow process of writing the words down. I would put the record on the record player and listen to a few words. I would write them down and then start the record over. It took a long time – especially trying to write down the auctioneer’s chant. When finished, I memorized it and began to sing it. I’ve been singing it ever since.[2]

     We spent a lot of time listening to music. We had albums by Roger Miller, Jimmy Dean, Merle Haggard, and the Smothers Brothers just to name a few. I listened to “King of the Road” and “Big Bad John” so much that when I sing them, I use the same timing, the same inflections in the songs that were on the records. 

     I finally started to learn the chords on the guitar when I purchased a 33 1/3 rpm record: “How to Play the Guitar.” It used four chords and taught different ways to strum that progression. Here are the four chords I learned: G, Em, C, and D⁷ and followed along on the record. I played the record so much that if you mention anything about this to my sister, Debbie, she might get violent. She hated hearing the four chord exercises day and night! 

     Many songs can be played using the chord progression I learned on the record. I learned different chords if I really wanted to play a song outside this key and progression. I specifically remember learning the F chord because I wanted to play “The Green Beret”, a popular song at the time.

     At a 4-H meeting my brother, Greg, and I sang and played “Running Bear” as a special number. I played the guitar and Greg played the bongo drums. This would have been a routine forgotten event had it not been for Les Sample. Les, who was an insurance agent and at one time the Rockbridge grocery store owner, was at the meeting as a guest speaker. When he heard us, he invited us to sing at a Greenfield Lion’s Club meeting.[3] We accepted the invitation and had to learn three or four more songs!

     My mom was certainly not in favor of our taking this gig. She said, “You boys have both quit band and Mr. Ruble is a member of the Greenfield Lion’s Club. What will he think?” My dad calmed her down and said, “Let them do it. It will be good for them.” I think mom had to take a nerve pill or two because she was so nervous about it.

     That led to our singing at many Greene County events. Greg graduated to a drum trap set and I played the Gibson Electric Guitar. We sang at elevator dinners, Pork Producers banquets, Cattlemen’s Associations, and other events. We had to learn even more songs! At one event the Greenfield High School Band “opened” for our act! (At least they played first!)

     I signed up for High School Chorus my junior year. I was sort of forced to do so because I had failed a subject and had to make up the credit.[4] Mr. McCarty, our choral teacher, began the year teaching our bass section how to sing bass. He did that by passing out church hymnals and going over hymns that had easy bass lines. When I sing the bass part of hymns today, I think about how I learned to do so. Not sure teachers could get away with using hymns like that today. It’s too bad, because it was a pretty good teaching method.

     Mr. McCarty was part of a folk singing group called “The Simple Six.” A few times, he asked me to play the guitar with the group. And another time, I accompanied the chorus with my electric guitar as they sang in a concert in the Greenfield High School Auditorium. Larry Pembrook played the bass. This picture was in the school yearbook. Mr. McCarty was a big encourager and a huge influence on my life.

     At the end of my senior year in high school, I was voted the most talented male in my class. I was pictured with the Les Paul Jr Gibson my dad had purchased and was now essentially mine since I learned to play it. The picture also featured my leather guitar strap which had my name on it. I think my brother made it for me. The strap looked like straps that the country stars wore. I was country when country wasn’t cool. (To quote another song.)

     After graduating from high school, I enrolled in McKendree College in Lebanon, Illinois. I signed up for McKendree Choir and the McKendree Chapel Choir. The choir rehearsed four days a week in Eisenmeyer Auditorium at McKendree. The Chapel Choir which consisted of sixteen voices, rehearsed once a week for the weekly chapel service. Mr. Glenn Friener was the director. Iris Jahn was also in the choir, and I remember meeting her right there in Eisenmeyer Auditorium early in the semester.[5]

     I was a member of the bass section, and I sat by Jeff Jahn, Iris’ brother. We made a good team because he was good at being on pitch and I was good at timing.[6]

     McKendree had a program called “Deputation Teams”. Churches would often request McKendree students to come and lead worship services or other events. We were to also talk about McKendree to possibly recruit future students. This group morphed into about eight of us forming a music group called the King’s Kids. After this group was formed, we were not officially part of the deputation team program. However, people knew we were all students at McKendree College. 

     The King’s Kids consisted of Jeff and Cathy Jahn, Alan Rhein, Greg Price, Julie Jahn, Kathy Large, and Iris and me. We traveled all over southern Illinois singing at churches and camps. Jeff played the guitar. An upright bass was played by Greg and sometimes by Kathy. While our singing was mostly off campus, it was interesting that during one of the McKendree Choir concerts, Mr. Freiner invited the King’s Kids to do some songs during the college concert. 

     A couple of notable things about the King’s Kids. We were asked to come to Knoxville, Tennessee and sing at Second United Methodist Church there. The pastor, Rev. Robert Walker, (a graduate of McKendree) had heard us at Beulah Camp that summer and invited us to come to his church and sing.[7] The other notable event was being the music group for the Southern Illinois Annual Conference. This conference, which was held at McKendree, lasted a few days and we were supposed to be “on call” to provide music when there was a break in the business sessions. We also did a concert one of the evenings.

     While I majored in English, I did take several music courses at McKendree. I took music theory and class piano. This is the truth: in class piano I learned about the three chords in each key! The I, IV, V chords. I was grateful to learn this and some other things that allowed me to at least play some things on the piano. I always tell people that I don’t know how to play the piano, but I can play the guitar on the piano!

After Iris and I were married and our first son, Tim, was born, there was always music in the house. When Tim would take a nap, Iris would always play a record. If music was playing, Tim would sleep. When the music stopped he would wake up!

     For Tim’s first Christmas (when he was six months old), I bought him a plastic guitar. When he got a little older, he would play the guitar and sing “songs”. Someone would offer a subject, and he would make up a song. (A foreshadowing of the 10-word songs of Harvest fame!) One time he played the plastic guitar so long his fingers started to bleed. Iris felt bad that he had hurt himself that way.

     The rest of the boys were also interested in music. They all liked to sing, and we often sang in the car on trips. Jedd was a good dancer and had some graceful moves as he listened to “Hooked on Classics” when we lived in West Frankfort. It was in West Frankfort that Tim sang his first solo in church. 

     I continued to play the guitar and Iris and I sang at church and some other places. Over the years, Iris and I have sung at church worship services, special Christmas services, church picnics, Senior Citizens groups, Rotary Clubs, and church youth camps. 

     Somewhere along the way, Toby, our second son wanted me to show him some chords on the guitar.  I showed him the chords and progression that I started with. While we were working on that, Tim came over and wanted to learn, too. I showed them both.

     Subsequently, all four of our boys learned how to play the guitar. Two of them essentially make their living playing the guitar and singing. Toby taught himself the 5-string banjo and the bass guitar. Tim, Jedd, and Jackson are pretty good at the piano. 

     I must have been a pretty good teacher, because most of them have surpassed my musical abilities.

     Iris also plays the piano – especially chords on the piano. She recently figured out chords for the entire Methodist hymnal and can play at church if needed. She also can figure out some complicated music. One of the songs she plays is “The Last Date” by Floyd Cramer. It’s really good!

     In 2001, during Greene County Days, the barn tour portion of that annual event featured our farm’s nearly 100-year-old barn. My brother, Greg, suggested that perhaps we could do a concert for people who would be around that weekend. We called it the Price Farm Jamboree and it has continued for the last 21 years. 

     For the last fourteen or fifteen years, one or more of our grandkids are part of the concert. Ruby, Emma, Macy, Caleb, and Molly (listed in birth order!) are all great singers! They all have great stage presence. Here are some of the instruments that have been played by our grandkids during the Jamboree: drums, bass guitar, mandolin, guitar, ukulele, violin, and kazoos!

     Iris and I recently attended a Bill Gaither Christmas Concert. He and the Gaither Vocal Band have a song called, “And the Song Goes On.” I gratefully think about that when it comes to our family. From previous generations in my family and Iris’ family, a love of music was handed down to us. We did our best to share it with our kids. It is exciting to see the next generation—our grandkids also embrace the gift of music. 

That’s my music memoir! I’m grateful to God for the gift of music and the opportunities to share it with others. The song goes on!

     

 

 

 

Addendum

 

Well, the song goes on…and so does the story! After I finished this year’s Christmas writing, I remembered a couple of other things to add to my “music memoir.” 

When I was the Associate Pastor at St. Matthew United Methodist Church in Belleville, IL, I oversaw the Wednesday night elective class ministry. One fall, I decided to offer an opportunity for people who played the guitar to get together to play informally. I named it “Guitars Galore.” Several – maybe six or seven of us started out in the group. After a few weeks, added four or five more. In addition, to adding the guitar players, other people began to attend just to listen to the music. We had an audience! There were so many who were there to listen that we had to move to a bigger room. After a few weeks, we were asked to play for one of the church services. We were also surprised that some other groups wanted us to entertain during some events at the church! 

The other thing that I wanted to write about was the recording of a CD – “The Songs We Sing.” Iris worked hard to arrange the 20 songs that ended up on the CD. Our daughter-in-law, Suzanne, helped with securing the licenses for the songs. It was recorded in the spring of 2004 at a recording studio in St. Louis. Our sons, Tim, and Jackson played instruments and provided additional vocals. Jackson’s friend, Theo Harden, was an instrumentalist on the CD as well. 

The CD contained some hymns, and some songs that I have written about such as “The Auctioneer Song.” One song on the CD is Ray Stevens’ “Mississippi Squirrel Revival.” In the mid 1980s, our son, Toby heard this song on the radio. He set up a tape recorder and listened for a few hours for the song to be played again. He recorded it and said, “Dad, you have to hear this song!” I did. I learned it and sang it for the New Life Club (a Sr. Citizen’s group) at St. Matthew United Methodist Church. I’m still singing it! It is my most requested song among the “Songs We Sing.” 

 

 

 

---

[1] The Auctioneer Song was released in 1956. It topped the pop charts and sold 2.5 million records.

[2] I was singing the Auctioneer song someplace a few years ago and someone in the audience evidently knew LeRoy Van Dyke. A few days later I received an 8 x 10 picture of LeRoy with the signed inscription on it that said: “To Dennis. Keep on singing!” I was really surprised.

[3] I may have written about this in some earlier writings—not sure. In any case, this is a big part of my musical journey.

[4] You can read all the details about that in my Christmas story in 2014: “An Excellent Failure.”

[5] For further details about meeting Iris and our subsequent relationship can be found in my 2010 Christmas story—“How I Met Your (grand)Mother”

[6] I didn’t know it at the time, but Jeff and Iris’ dad, Elmer Jahn, was a great musician. He played the piano by ear. So, music also ran deep in her family. Iris taught Jeff how to sing bass when they were younger. Iris wished she could be three people, because she could hear at least three parts of every song in her head. She still sings harmony by hearing those parts. In addition, Jeff and Iris also were musical entertainment for groups in the Mulberry Grove, Illinois, area.

 

[7] Rev. Robert  Walker had served as pastor of the Troy United Methodist Church while he was a student at McKendree College. I served the Troy United Methodist Church for 29 years (1988—2017). In the early 1990’s, I invited Rev. Walker to preach a revival for us at Troy UMC.

On Being a Long-Tenured Pastor

There have been a few United Methodist pastors who have served in one appointment for a very long time. 

 

I was fortunate to be one of them. 

 

I served the Troy United Methodist Church in Troy, IL for 29 years. I was appointed there in 1988 and retired from there in 2017. I’m grateful to God for the privilege I had of serving that wonderful congregation.

 

Over the years, I was often asked, “How were you able to stay in one place for that length of time?” 

 

I’m not sure how to fully respond to that question, but I do have some clues that might help explain it.  What follows is one of the clues.

 

When I answered what I discerned to be God’s call on my life to become a pastor, my home church pastor, Rev. Leroy Sanders, gave me some great advice: "Always keep your District Superintendent informed." As a high school student at the time, I wasn’t sure what all that meant, but his advice stuck with me 

 

During my tenure at the Troy United Methodist Church, I served under six District Superintendents. I appreciated the leadership of each one of them. When a new DS was appointed, I called to get an appointment as soon as I could—often within the first few weeks of their assignment.

 

I invited them to spend some time with me on-site. The plan for the block of time consisted of a tour of the church building and some conversation about the history of the congregation, a tour of the community, lunch (on me!), and a conversation about some of the ministry plans and dreams to reach our region for Christ.

 

The purpose of all this was for the new DS to know as much as possible (at least during these few hours) about the community, the congregation, the church building and ministry plans. When my District Superintendent sat around the cabinet table at appointment time, I wanted to make sure he/she had some first-hand knowledge – not just reports and “paper knowledge” -- of the Troy United Methodist Church and my leadership of it.

 

I’m not certain how much of this played into being able to serve long term, but at least I did my best to communicate my passion for ministering to the community of Troy and surrounding region.

 

When I think of some other clues, I’ll post them here! You can check them out if you are interested.

  

 

An Unprecedented Time

All churches are now existing in what is referred to several times a day as "unprecedented" times. The other day, I was listening to an episode of Rainer on Leadership podcast that caused me to ponder the subject of this blog post.

The church I am thinking about is my home church, the Rockbridge (IL) United Methodist Church. Not only did I attend this church from even before my earliest memories, I am now participating in this church after retiring from 46 years in the United Methodist ministry and after moving back to Rockbridge. (Population: 170 or so)

For several Sundays there has been no in-person worship or other gatherings of the Rockbridge United Methodist Church because of the Covid-19 pandemic. This situation is continuing. It's been difficult. We wonder what the future might hold.

But this church has been through difficulty before. Here are some examples:

According to Rockbridge Methodist Church history, a small group of Methodists began holding worship services in the Rockbridge School house in the 1870s. (The village began in 1871.)

• The church began in the same decade as a major financial panic: the Panic of 1873. It was a financial crisis that triggered an economic depression in Europe and North America that lasted from 1873 to 1877. In the United States, the panic was known as the "Great Depression" until the events of the early 1930s set a new standard.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• A United States President was shot in July 1881 and died in September 1881. James Garfield was the second president to be assassinated with a decade and a half.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued. (Their first building was built in 1887)

• Another depression was set off by the Panic of 1893. It was the greatest depression America had known up to that time. The stock market crashed in May 1893 and a severe credit crisis resulted and more than 16,000 businesses had failed by the end of 1893. Included in the failed businesses were 156 railroads and nearly 500 banks. The panic lasted about four years.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• In 1901, another assassination: President William McKinley.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• The First World War or also known as the Great War was a global war originating in Europe. It lasted from July 28, 1914 to November 11, 1918. In this war, the USA lost more personnel to disease (63,114) than to combat (53,402) largely due to the influenza epidemic of 1918.
• The Influenza Pandemic of 1918. It is estimated that about 500 million people or one-third of the world's population became infected with this virus. There were about 675,000 deaths in the United States.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued. A new church building (the present one) was built in 1926-1927. It was dedicated--debt free--on May 22, 1927.

• The Great Depression was a severe economic depression that began in the United States. It started in 1929 with a stock market crash and lasted until the late 1930s. It was a devastating time for families and businesses. I am reading a book called The Great Depression: A Diary by Benjamin Roth. Benjamin Roth lived in Youngstown, Ohio. Here is one of his diary entries (August 7, 1931): "Business is at an absolute standstill and the big stores are deserted even tho [sic] they are all running sales and almost giving the merchandise away. Since the Home Savings and Loan Company and other loan companies stopped paying out, nobody has any money and everybody seems scared and blue. We seem to have touched bottom in Youngstown and it hardly seems possible that things could get worse."  He went back and noted the following about this entry: "This was a poor guess. Conditions in 1932 were much worse." March 8, 1933. (p.12)

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• On Sunday December 7, 1941, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and the United States subsequently entered World War II. From 1941 to 1945, major sacrifices had to be made by the people in the  United States and the citizens in the village of Rockbridge. Today in the Rockbridge Post Office there is a display of pictures of many veterans of World War II from the village and surrounding area, including my dad. Several years ago, (when my mom was still alive), I asked her if she was watching the documentary on World War II that was produced by Ken Burns. She told me, "no, it is too painful to re-live."

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• The Korean War raged from 1950 to 1953. Almost 40,000 Americans died and more than 100,000 were wounded.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• In 1962, President John F. Kennedy and Soviet Union leaders engaged in a tense, 13 day political and military standoff in October. It was known as the Cuban Missile Crisis. The Soviet Union had installed nuclear armed missiles on Cuba, just 90 miles from U. S. shores. 
• The Cold War and threat of nuclear war continued.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963. It was an uncertain time. Schools were dismissed for a couple of days while funeral proceedings for the president were conducted.

The Rockbridge Methodist Church continued.

• In 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert Kennedy were assassinated just a couple months apart. There were race riots, riots at political conventions--we wondered what the future would hold for the country.

The Rockbridge United Methodist Church continued.

• The Vietnam War divided the  country. Around 58,000 US service personnel perished in this war. Their memory is etched in the very inspirational Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall.

The Rockbridge United Methodist Church continued.

• On September 11, 2001, the United States was attacked by terrorists. As the news unfolded that day, no one knew when it was going to end. It was a difficult time. The world, our nation, businesses and families were affected. For at least a couple of days, no planes were in the skies. There was fear and uncertainty.

The Rockbridge United Methodist Church continued.

• The Great Recession of 2008-2009 was the most severe economic and financial meltdown (up to that time) since the Great Depression.

The Rockbridge United Methodist Church continued.

• The Covid-19 Pandemic of 2020. With the suspension of in-person worship for a few weeks and stay at home orders from the governor, it is a different and difficult challenge.

How will the Rockbridge United Methodist Church continue?

• When the lockdown is lifted, in some ways it will be a new beginning. A starting over. From scratch. It will be an opportunity to evaluate what we have done and whether we need to stop something, change something, or start something new in order to effectively minister to this community. This "unprecedented" time may be a gift for us to humbly pray that God would lead us to a new day, a new place, a renewed resolve to communicate the message of salvation in Jesus Christ to this village and beyond.

The Rockbridge United Methodist Church continues with these points in its favor:

• Committed congregation.
• Caring pastor.
• Only church in this entire zip code.
• More than adaquate, beautiful accessible building.
• No debt.
• Solid financial resources.
• Willingness to try new things.
• The promise from Jesus in Matthew 16: ...I will build my church and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.

The Cloud of Witnesses

Last Sunday was very interesting and inspirational.


After retiring in 2017, most Sundays I attend the worship service at the Rockbridge United Methodist Church in Rockbridge, Illinois. This is my home church. I attended there almost every Sunday from my earliest memories until I moved away for college.


 This past Sunday (Feb 16, 2020), one of the scripture passages read was from Hebrews 12:1-3:

  Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³ Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

I found myself thinking about the great cloud of witnesses that surround me – especially in that sanctuary. Since 1926, pastors have been proclaiming the gospel from that chancel area in that building. (And in a previous building on that site since 1887.) A couple of the many pastors in that cloud of witnesses who have occupied the Rockbridge pulpit made a big impact on me: Rev. John Richard Seed and Rev. Leroy Sanders. Here are a couple of things I thought about as I sat there after hearing the scripture:

One Sunday, Rev. Seed surprised the congregation when he sang How Great Thou Art as a solo. He had a great voice and the song and his singing made a huge impression on all of us. I had never heard a pastor sing a solo before! Rev. Seed baptized me and told me one time that he thought God had something in store for me to do.

Rev. Sanders was a pastor who loved to tell stories and jokes. I don’t really remember any of his sermons, but I do remember the joke he told the first time he met with the youth group! He affirmed me and my calling into the ministry. He invited me to preach my first sermon.

In the afternoon I attended a commissioning service for a mission team (one of our Rockbridge UMC members is on the team) heading to Jamaica in a few days. The service was in a church in a nearby town. Before we prayed for the team, a scripture printed in the back of the hymnal was read responsively. It was from Hebrews 12 – the cloud of witnesses!  When the reading was finished, I glanced at the inside cover of the hymnal and saw that the hymnal was given in memory of my aunt, Mary Vesta Weber, who had been a member of that church.


I’m not sure what it was about Sunday, but I just couldn’t get away from the cloud of witnesses! And I was/am grateful!

Reflections on the Manger in Luke 2

After 46 years as a United Methodist minister, I retired a couple years ago and spend most days working on the family grain and livestock farm. After preaching during Christmas for 46 years, I guess I still am thinking about aspects of the Christmas story in Luke 2, even though I am not preaching this Christmas season. From the unique perspective of feeding cattle every day, I have been reflecting on the fact that the word manger is used three times in Luke 2 (half of the occurrences of this word in the entire NIV Bible). That detail in the story must be important. Here are some thoughts:

1. Cattle wait by the manger each morning. They stand close by.
2. Cattle can’t fill the manger themselves.
3. It is the only place where cattle are fed. No other place.
4. The manger holds life-sustaining food. Every day.
5. Their hunger is assuaged at the manger.

"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." (Luke 2:11,12)

My Favorite Pearl Harbor Day Story

I have always loved the biography of Rev. Peter Marshall written by his widow, Catherine Marshall. Rev. Marshall was invited to preach at the Naval Academy at Annapolis on Sunday, December 7, 1941.

Here's how she described this event in the book, A Man Called Peter  (p. 220-221):

      Peter was to preach to the regiment of midshipmen at the Naval Academy at Annapolis.
      
      All the preceding week he had been haunted by a strange feeling that he should change his announced topic and preach a particular sermon. It was a feeling he could not shake off. On Sunday morning he confided it to Chaplain Thomas. 

      "If your feeling about it is that strong, follow it by all means," was the chaplain's response.

      So Peter preached on the text, seemingly a strange text for young midshipmen:

      For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time and then vanisheth away. (James 4:14)

      In the chapel before him was the December graduating class, young men who in a few days would receive their commissions and go on active duty.

      As we were driving back to Washington that afternoon, suddenly the program on the car radio was interrupted. The announcer's voice was grave. His apparently routine words throbbed with emotion. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Stand by for an important announcement. This morning the United States Naval Base at Pearl harbor was bombed in a surprise Japanese attack..."

     Instantly we knew that we were living through one of history's dramatic moments, that fateful December 7th,  "the day that would long live in infamy."
  
      Within a month many of the boys to whom Peter had just preached would go down to heroes' graves in strange waters. Soon all of them would be exposed to the risks and dangers of war, and Peter, under God's direction, had preached to them--young, vital, alive as they were that morning--about death and immortality.

Etcetera

By: Dennis D. Price

etcetera

[et-set-er-uh, ‐se-truh]

1.  a number of other things

2.  extras or sundries

3.  Random stories from the past told for Christmas, 2018

Seventeen Dogs

This story happened before I was born, but I was told the story of my dad owning 17 dogs at one time—many of them hunting dogs. Some were coon hunting dogs. I think this happened soon after my mom and dad moved to the Rockbridge farm in the spring of 1947. Mr. Zeno Curnutt, the landlord, said to him, “I never knew anyone to amount to very much who owned a lot of dogs!” The story goes that my dad got rid of most of them soon after this comment.

Granger

    I don’t know if I remember this or I just remember being told about it. Granger was a dog that my mom and dad had when I was a toddler or perhaps a little older. When I was in the yard and started out toward the barn, Granger would lay down in front of me and not let me go any further. Don’t know anything else about Granger, but I’ve always been glad Granger was around. He obviously helped keep me around! [Addendum: I probably shouldn’t tell this for security reasons, but even now when one of the websites asks me to pick a security challenge question, I sometimes pick “Favorite Pet” and my answer is “Granger”!]

Head First

    After our house burned in March 1955, we moved into a new house in July 1955. The new house was built on the same spot of ground on which the old farmhouse stood. This event probably was sometime later that year. I was in the basement with a little toy broom sweeping along the edge of the wall. I heard a noise at the top of the basement steps and ran over to the staircase. My little sister, Debbie, was falling down the steps. She was only a couple years old. Miraculously I made it to the steps just in time to catch her before she hit the concrete. I still remember holding her head when mom heard her fall and came down to get her.

A Frantic Search

     Not sure what day or year this happened, but it was a frantic search by all of us when we discovered that my sister, Debbie, was nowhere to be found. We looked all over the house, the barn, barn loft, and other buildings around the farm. We had a couple of tanks of water including a concrete tank that we used to play in from time to time. We walked down there and checked. Fortunately, she was not in or near any of those. Everyone was getting really worried about her disappearance. One more time, I went to the basement. We had an old couch down there and behind the couch Debbie was sleeping on the floor. It was a good place to take a nap for a couple of reasons: it was cool there and she was effectively getting away from a couple of teasing brothers. We were relieved and very glad that she was found.

Dramatic Rescue

     I guess it is by God’s grace that we survived our childhood. There were some close calls. I’ll tell you about one of them. We had a wagon equipped with a water tank on it that we used to haul water for livestock. We creatively called it the water wagon! In the front part of the wagon there was some space that a little boy like me could ride. Many times, I rode there as dad took water to various tanks around the farm. I wasn’t very old the day I was riding on the water wagon and Greg was sitting on dad’s lap while dad was driving the Oliver tractor. We were heading up a hill by the hedge row when the pin came out of the water wagon tongue and the wagon started rolling backwards. I don’t know how he did it, but my dad stopped the tractor, put the parking brakes on, set Greg on the ground, ran toward me and the water wagon, grabbed the tongue and turned the wagon just before it rolled into the creek at the bottom of the hill! It was an amazing and dramatic rescue! There were other close calls that will have to be told by others and at other times, but this one is my story and I’m sticking to it!

Bert and Mert

     My dad’s name was Basil. My mom’s name was Agnes. If anyone was near the door when my dad came in to get something from the house, they would hear him call out, “Mert!” That was what he called my mom! Somewhere along the way, she told us that when they were younger, they went to a movie where there were characters named Mert and Bert. After the movie, they decided that they would call each other by those names. Mert stuck. Bert didn’t![1]

Exodus 34:21

[Six days you shall labor, but on the seventh day you shall rest; even during the plowing season and harvest you must rest. Genesis 34:21]

     From just about my earliest memory, my dad did not do any farming (except feeding and occasionally some “emergency” work) on Sundays. One time he told me the story of how this practice got started for him. We have one field of bottom ground on the farm. He wanted to finish planting that field before the rain, so one Sunday (I think it was during the 1957 planting season), he planted the bottom field. That night it rained four inches and washed out the seed corn on that field. He had to replant it later. He decided then and there he would not do any work on Sunday. On our farm, this has been a five-decade practice. And as  Exodus says, it’s been a practice even during the plowing and harvesting season!

An Accurate Throw

     I always liked to hear stories that my dad would tell about his growing up years. One story I particularly liked was the one about an accurate throw! He said that his dad was in a nearby field plowing. This was during the time when a horse pulled the plow, the reins that were used to guide the horse were slung over the neck of the “plower” as he walked behind the plow. While my grandpa was plowing, my dad saw a grease bucket lid on the ground nearby and thought it would be interesting if he could throw that lid all the way to the field. He threw it like a frisbee and he said the lid came down perfectly on the back of the horse. Of course, the horse bolted. My grandpa was thrown to the ground. The plow was bouncing as the horse ran all the way to the barn. The rest of this story, according to my dad, included a whipping with a harness strap!

A Dad Joke

     Way before anyone heard of dad jokes, we heard our share of them. One of my dad’s favorite jokes that he told was this one: a man walked into a restaurant with an onion behind his ear. It never failed, every day he had an onion behind his ear when he visited the place. One day, he entered the establishment with a carrot behind his ear. The staff at the restaurant finally asked him, “why do you have a carrot behind your ear?” He said, “Because I’m out of onions.” I can still hear him tell it. He thought it was funny and laughed a long time after telling this joke. We laughed too—at the joke and at the way he laughed when he told it. If truth be told, I laughed a bit when I typed it out just now!

It probably isn’t good to analyze a joke of this type, but it is interesting to note that the people at the restaurant asked the wrong question. If they really wanted to know what was happening, they should have asked why he had anything behind his ear, not just the carrot on that day! I’m afraid this dad joke thing might have been handed down to succeeding generations!

A Couple of Pranks

     Not only jokes have been part of our family, but pranks and teasing have also shown up from time to time. One time, my cousin, Mike, was visiting with us. Late in the evening, we were playing in the basement. Suddenly, there was a knocking on the basement window. It was startling and scary. But, knowing my dad, we figured it was probably him. We raced upstairs. My mom and dad were in bed, but not asleep yet. There was no way my dad could have come in from outside that quickly after knocking on the basement window. We thought maybe we were hearing things, so we went back downstairs. After a few minutes, there was another knock on the window. We ran upstairs again. Dad was in bed. Now we were really scared. In fact, Mike did not go back downstairs. He sat on the top of the staircase. Finally, we discovered the truth. My dad had used a fishing rod with a weight on the end of the line. He opened his bedroom window, reached out with the fishing line and “knocked” on the window with the fishing weight. Before we ran upstairs, he reeled in the fishing line, put it under the bed and got back in bed. Pretty clever!

     Another time, dad dressed up as an old woman and sneaked out the front door (which we rarely used) and came to the door we always used and knocked. I answered the door and the old woman said, “Is your dad home?” It scared me just a bit as I hollered for my dad. About this time, my mom came in (she was in on this, too). Something about the way my mom looked at me caused me to look again at the old woman. I recognized that it was my dad and just slammed the door! They laughed at the time. I think I might have laughed later. Maybe.

A Chiropractic Ride

     Occasionally, my dad would have trouble with his back. He would describe it as his back being “out.” An observer could tell that it was “out” because while he walked straight ahead, it looked like he was walking a bit sideways! One time, his back was bothering him so much that he couldn’t climb on the tractor.  He asked my mom to drive him back to the pond so he could feed the hogs we had there. She was to drive; he would sit in the back of the feed trailer. My mom didn’t have too much experience with tractors. I don’t remember her being on a tractor much at all. On this day she did fine. She got back to the pond in record time—driving a bit too fast. When she finally stopped, my dad was ready to complain that she went too fast and the bumps were excruciating. When he stood up and started his somewhat indignant speech to her, he suddenly changed his tune and said, “hey, you fixed it!” His back was not “out” anymore, but “put back in place” by an amateur chiropractor on a speedy chiropractor ride.

A Picture-Perfect Temper Tantrum

    I think this story happened on a Sunday evening. My dad needed some help with some feeding or something outside. He asked me to come and help him. I didn’t want to. For the next several minutes he kept asking and I kept saying I wasn’t going to help him. I started crying and refused to get ready to go outside. At one point he got the camera out and said he was going to take a picture of me having this temper tantrum. That really made me mad and I started to run out of the room. In the process, I slipped and fell on the end table and cut my forehead—just above my eyebrow. I was now crying and bleeding. My mom called Dr. Baldwin and he met us at the office and I had to have stitches. It would have been a whole lot better just to have been obedient!  I hope my dad didn’t feel bad about all of this because it was my fault, but I’m sure he did. I don’t like thinking about this story, but it happened. I’m glad it wasn’t repeated--at least to this degree!

A Marksman at the Wrong Time

     I had a couple of BB guns in my growing up years. I used the gun to target practice and sometimes I would try to kill sparrows. My dad didn’t mind us killing the sparrows. They were a nuisance in and around the barn. However, we weren’t supposed to shoot any other birds, especially the graceful barn swallow. So we would go up in the hayloft and try to eliminate some sparrows. I admit it sounds kind of heartless given the witness of the scriptures that says God knows when a sparrow falls, but in my case, God saw that I missed 99.9% of the time. I shot tubes and tubes of BBs at sparrows and missed. One day a barn swallow was sitting on the power line by the barn. I was frustrated that I couldn’t hit a sparrow, so I decided if I couldn’t hit anything, I might as well shoot at the barn swallow. Unfortunately, this one time my aim was deadly. I still remember seeing the swallow falling to the ground.  Probably God notices when barn swallows fall as well. Dad saw it too. And I didn’t see my BB gun for a few weeks!

The Grove

    My dad always liked pecan trees. He planted pecan trees between our house and the road in 1969 or 1970. Anyone who drives by the farm can now see the beautiful, tall, majestic pecan grove that was planted almost 50 years ago. My dad didn’t live to see what this pecan grove looks like today and the many pecans that it has produced. There is this reality in my dad’s experience that is embodied in this quote by Regan Sutrefield: “The best of what we sow we won’t live to reap.”

Vacation Fun

     Our family didn’t have very many traditional vacations. The only time all of us traveled for a few days was in 1958. We spent some time in the Ozarks, toured Marvel Cave, and stayed in a cabin in Forsyth, Missouri. Another year (1967) everyone but me went back to the same area. I didn’t want to go, so I stayed home and took care of things on the farm.

     But another vacation week stands out in my mind. One year, mom and dad decided that we would stay home but consider it a vacation week. No farm work would be planned outside of normal feeding. The rest of the time we would do “vacation” things. Honestly, the only thing I remember was that my dad built a raft during that week. He took four empty 55-gallon barrels and constructed a wooden raft with the four barrels on each of the corners. He also built a ladder on one end of it so we could swim in the pond and be able to get on and off the raft. He also built a bench on it for fishing. We took it back to the pond and had fun floating and swimming. It worked great.

Can’t Fool Her

     One of the most popular combines in the 1950s was the Allis Chalmers pull-type combine. This means that the combine was pulled by a tractor. Allis Chalmers or AC as it was called, sold a ton of these combines. Over the years, they made them a bit bigger and used improved technology in the mechanics of the machine. However, they looked essentially the same. My dad had at least one of the earlier models, then traded for the looks-the-same-but-a-little-bit-bigger-improved model. It was parked in the barnyard and my dad asked my sister, Debbie, how she like his new combine. She went to the window, looked out at the machine for just a second, turned away, and stated in a matter-of-fact way: “you can’t fool me, you just painted it!”

A Lesson Learned the Hard Way

    We have almost always had a Ferguson tractor around the farm. These tractors were small, utility, chore tractors. They were used nearly every day for something. (While we don’t use a tractor like this anymore, we still have a 1957 Ferguson that my grandpa bought new.)

     A Ferguson is the first tractor I learned to drive. I probably wasn’t more than six years old. As a matter of fact I was too small to push the clutch and the brake at the same time, so I had to improvise by making sure if I needed to stop, I pushed the clutch in to take it out of gear then shifted my weight over to the brake. I’m not sure how safe that was, but I distinctly remember doing it.

     The Ferguson was the tractor I used when I started doing field work. I think I was in the fourth grade and one day after school, my dad had the Ferguson and the culti-mulcher ready for me to use in one of the fields. After a few years, I spent so much time on the tractor that I knew all about it—so I thought!

     One day I was using the Ferguson to rake hay, as I remember. Perhaps I was doing something else, but I do know I was in the field about a mile from the house when I ran out of gas. I thought I had enough to finish the task, but I didn’t. So, I walked back to the house. When I got there, I told my dad I had run out of gas. He asked me if I had used the auxiliary tank on it. As much as I had driven that tractor, I had never heard of the auxiliary tank. I thought he was teasing me. He said that if you open the fuel line control knob a couple turns, there is another gallon or so in the tank. When he took me back to the tractor, he did not take any gas, he just turned the knob a couple of turns, and the tractor started up. I had enough gas to drive it home! There was more to learn about that tractor. I have discovered that there is more to learn in just about any situation in life, too!

Be Sure That the Envelope Says Kool-Aid!

     A line in a vintage (probably 1950s era) Kool-Aid jingle says “be sure that the envelope says Kool-Aid.” Well, one day my mom didn’t. The back story that you need to know about that day is that my brother (when he was very little) used to take labels off the cans in the cupboards. He used to take labels off other things, too. Like Kool-Aid packets. (I guess at the time, Kool-Aid came in packaging that had paper on the outside of it.) My mom was fixing a lunch to take to my dad in the field. She fixed the food, then was stirring up the Kool-Aid. Since the paper had been removed by my brother, she didn’t know what flavor it was going to be until she poured it in the pitcher. It was purple that day. She said later that it didn’t look quite right, so she took a drink of it. Then she took another drink trying to figure out what was wrong with it. Then she realized she had mixed up purple dye! Her mouth, tongue and teeth were now purple.

     Then she panicked. She stepped outside and hollered at my Aunt Norma who lived across the field. (Aunt Norma didn’t have a phone.) Mom said she wanted to let someone know that there was a problem in case she keeled over dead! She called the doctor and he concluded that the dye would not hurt her. It didn’t. She lived to laugh and tell about it. But the jingle was right—be sure the envelope says Kool-Aid!

Always Read—and Follow the Instructions

    There is an adage that teaches us “when all else fails, read the instructions.” A corollary to that adage is “when you read the instructions, you should  follow them.” This corollary was played out on a cold day on the farm. My dad and our neighbor, Stu Fitzsimmons, had each bought a new auger feed wagon. They got them cheaper by buying them unassembled and met at our shop to begin putting them together. A fire was built in the stove in our shop for warmth and the task began. As the wagon began to be assembled, the instructions clearly said, “do not tighten bolts until after certain sections of the wagon were assembled.” However, it was the consensus that to save time, the bolts should be tightened as they go. They got to the aforementioned step in the process and it could not be assembled until they went back and loosened all of the bolts that they had previously tightened. They finally got it assembled. The assembly of the second wagon went much quicker because they didn’t ignore the instructions. As a young kid watching all of this, I learned that instructions should not only be read but obeyed! Another way to put it: We must be doers of the instructions and not just readers only!

Church and Community Servants

     My parents were good role models when it came to church and community service. My mom and dad volunteered for many ministry tasks through our church, the Rockbridge United Methodist Church. Mom taught Bible School and Sunday School and helped in many other ways. My dad served as treasurer of the church and also volunteered for things. I remember for several years he was on the team that erected the elaborate nativity scene the church displayed out by the highway during Advent and Christmas.

     My dad also served on the Fire Protection District Board and the Greenfield School Board for at least a couple of terms. I’m not sure exactly what years he served, but it was interesting to see his picture at least in one of my high school yearbooks as a member of the board! 

     It has always been interesting and a matter of pride to see his name on the plaque when the new high school gym was constructed in Greenfield. This new building was first used during my freshman year (1965) in high school. Even though it was built over fifty years ago, people still refer to it as the “new gym.”

     Even now, I will occasionally drive by the building and look at his name, Bail D. Price, on the plaque on the front of the building.

     And another interesting fact is that my step-father, William Hembrough, was also on the school board at the time and his name is listed on the plaque, too!

     I’m grateful to God for the legacy of church and community service that has been handed down to my generation and hopefully will continually be handed down to succeeding generations.

One Last Thing

     There are many other stories that have been told in other writings and could be (and perhaps will be) told in the future. I’m grateful to God for the memories, experiences, and lessons I’ve learned in these etcetera’s in my life.

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[1] I recently discovered through Google that there was a movie released in 1945 called Murder, He Says. There was a cast member who played both of these roles:  Mert Fleagle and Bert Fleagle. The movie is about a pollster who stumbles on a family of murderous hillbillies,  and joins in their search for hidden treasure. I’m not sure if this was the movie or not, but it was the right time frame and the Google search did not return any other movies with Bert and Mert in them!