By Ronnie Parris
I was reading Aaron Kephart’s article on Mr. Bill in the August issue and it really hit home about relationships with folks that come into our lives. The people I’m writing about this month have passed on from this world, but they left a lasting mark, or “track”, so to speak, on my life. There are many more that are still here today that deserve my highest praise, but we don’t have time to cover all of them. Each one of us, by the way we live our life, leaves a track or a legacy. In my life, I have, by no means, been proud of every one of mine, and quiet frankly, would not want some of them known, as I’m sure everyone else would say too.
One of the first people to take me hunting or fishing, other than my dad (who is one of the best outdoorsmen I have ever known), was a man named Frank Baines. Most folks just called him Pappy Baines. He was my Sunday school teacher at East Alarka Baptist Church and could be found sitting on the front row every Sunday. He would take me, and my brother, on rabbit hunts when we were boys. There’s nothing more fun than listening to a pack of screaming beagles as they follow the scent of a rabbit on a good frosty morning. Frank was known throughout the community as the guy to call if you needed a dog, or other animal, worked on. If anyone in the community fell sick or needed anything, Frank was probably the first man they would call. I remember many times, him taking up money to help someone in our community that was down on their luck.
Another man that left a lasting imprint on me was Bennet Jones. Bennet also went to East Alarka Baptist Church. Bennet’s seat was on the back row, and I split my time sitting with both he and Frank. I have to say, I didn’t get in as much trouble when I was on the front row as the back. Seems like, at times, that back row seemed to spark my urge to talk and I knew, if dad had to turn around and look, I was gonna get it when I got home. Many a time, Bennet would crank up his old Ford tractor and up the road we would go, to get back as far as we could on the head of the creek to dig gensing. I will always remember walking these hills with Bennet and listening to tales of big patches of “sang”, as we called it. He taught me where to find it and that, if you dug the small plants, or carried the berries out, instead of planting them back, there wouldn’t be any for the future. Bennet was sort of a “Jack of all trades” and anyone with welding, painting, vehicle, or carpentry problems knew they could come to Bennet. Both he and Frank were always trying to teach me the right way to handle problems and I am the better for it.
Later on, when I was in high school, I met another man. He was my best friend’s dad. His name was Berlin Oliver. Berlin was one of those guys that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it and never let a soul know he had done it. He didn’t care about recognition, he just treated folks the way you’re supposed to. I’ve spent many days and nights hunting with Berlin and his son, and I learned a lot from him. If you were hunting or fishing with him he was always willing to step back and give up the best spot. Many times, I’ve called on him when I needed help and he never once failed to help me in any way.
The last person I want to talk about was a man named Warren Phillips. He lived on the very head of Caney Fork in Jackson County. I met Warren after I started dating his niece. At the time, his dad Ransom Phillips was still alive and at home. I’ll never forget the first time I went to their house. I had to go to the bathroom and as I barely cleared the room, Ransom asked, “Is he a Republican?” The answer was, “I think so Ransom,” to which he replied, “I thought so.” I figured out quick that was a pretty big requirement. I used to go stay with Warren and hunt the hills of Caney Fork for deer. Warren was a big hunter in his younger years and was always ready to tell me where the deer crossings were and where I should watch. He was a true outdoorsmen and could always put you on the right stand or tell you the best stretches of creek to catch the wild brookies, and rainbows, of Caney Fork. Warren never got to do a lot of hunting in his later years as he had the task of tacking care of his dad as his health declined. I always had so much respect for his sacrifice, but in our talks after Paw Phillips passed, I realized that, to Warren, it wasn’t a sacrifice at all but rather a privilege.
Warren is gone now, as are all the others I wrote about, but their legacy or “track” is still here and is as imprinted on me as it ever was. With each one of these people, I bet you can’t find two people who knew them that have a bad thing to say about them. I can only wish that, some day, I may be half the man, friend, and neighbor, that each one of them was. One of the wisest men I know told me something that always sticks in my mind. “We are where we are in life by the choices we make.” I know I haven’t always made the right choices, but my track’s not finished and as long as I can still draw a breath, I want to try to work on making it a better one. One my kids and grandkids can be proud of. One thing all these people had in common was that their whole life was unselfish. I hope that you have someone in your life, who leaves an imprint on you, the way these men did on me. And I hope someday they can look down and be proud of the track I leave.
Ronnie Parris is the Owner and Head Guide of Smoky Mountain Outdoors Unlimited-Fontana Lake Fishing Guides, headquartered in Bryson City, North Carolina, heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. (www.smokymountainoutdoorsunlimited.com)
