My Kentucky Home-As I see it.

My Kentucky Home-As I see it. Memories of yesterday bring smiles for today... My Kentucky Home page is stories of my fondest memories.

It tells of my life and every day events of family, friends, and places. I will also be sharing some of my grandmother's favorite recipes...

I will share what it was like growing up in the Kentucky hills during the years coming out of the Depression...The quiet, calm, prospering years of the late1940s- 50s-and into the 60s...
Imagine life without electricity, no indoor plumbing, and no automob

iles...Follow me and read of my "Looking Back" years and how it used to be...Back when time was slow and lives were laid-back.

In my hometown of Danville, Ky., there lives a knowledgeable lady with an awesome memory about our fair town. She gave m...
05/04/2026

In my hometown of Danville, Ky., there lives a knowledgeable lady with an awesome memory about our fair town. She gave me permission to share some of her beautiful memories of Danville while walking downtown. I was not there with her in person, but oh, the joy of remembering as she told the story of so many buildings on her morning walk. In my mind, I walked right along with her until the end.
Thank you, Eva Cochran, for allowing me to share your post.
Mary Frances King ~ From My Kentucky Home.

My Continued Walk Downtown with Ea Cochran.
I decided it was time to finish the walk I started last week. The weather forecast said it would be cloudy today; I hope it is right. It is Saturday morning, and maybe today I can find a parking spot closer than last week if I start a little earlier.
I found a parking spot on the corner of Walnut and Third Street. This building is now occupied by several medical offices, but I remember it as Slone’s Market. The parking garage across the street is big but I’m not sure how convenient it is. Some people like it and others don’t.
There is the old Centenary United Methodist Church across the street. This building holds a lot of history inside its walls. Today is serves not only as home to Third Street Methodist Church but has several offices upstairs. This building holds a lot of memories for me.
The Hub Frankel Store sat on the corner of Main and Third. On Third street side was a section on the sidewalk that would open, as a kid I thought that was really neat, magic in a way.
I made it to Main Street and as I turn the corner the old Hub building is still here, but it is no longer the grand old store I remember. It was a large department store that had the neatest store windows during Christmas. Inside you could just about get any kind of clothing you wanted and there were those long tubes that the clerks used. The clerks would put a receipt and money in one and swoosh it disappeared and a few minutes later it came back with your receipt and your change just like magic. It was the only store in town that had a system like that, I think.
Begley Drug store was here and a restaurant called the Colonial Restaurant was located in the back of the store. They used to decorate their store windows every holiday, and I loved looking at all the windows. I never got to eat there but the smell that came out would make your mouth water.
At the very top of this building, it says Gilcher. It used to be a big hotel with lots of rooms. The entrance was here and the Kentucky Theatre was next to it. I can still smell the popcorn coming out of the doors. I was never allowed to go inside but every now and then I would walk by to see what they were showing and look at the posters they had.
Today all of this has been combined into one giant building, part of it being used by the hospital and the other as a college coffee shop and bookstore.
Hard to miss this big yellow building. It says Lon-Kola Bottling Works at the very top of the building, guess I need to do some research on this. I remember a jewelry store here back in the late sixties, then there was another building I walked close to the road until I passed it, another pool hall. Whitaker Bank now takes up that space and part of where the Louisville Store was.
The very first store bought dress I ever had came from the Louisville Store when I was around ten years old. I was amazed at all the things inside that store and loved their window displays.
This block doesn’t seem quite as long as the others did or maybe this one holds more memories for me. I like the red shutters on this building, looks like another medical building. I am almost at the corner, I’ll sit a minute on these benches.
Looking back up the street is just dawned on me on what is missing that the street no longer has, parking meters. Glad they don’t have them anymore.
Constitution Square is across the street, and it looks busy. I forgot the Farmers Market is here every Saturday, oh well I’ll just mosey on over and check it out.
There are several food trucks parked on the street. I’ll just pass them by this time, maybe next time I’ll try one out. Where are the fresh vegetables? I see breads, flowers, lemonade and jewelry but no farm vegetables. Maybe I haven’t gotten to them yet. There is a guy up on the platform playing music, he is pretty good.
I notice the buildings have new roofs on them, looks a lot better. When daddy was in a good mood he would bring us up here for a picnic. There were several picnic tables spread out and there used to be gallows that the kids played on. It was removed years ago as it made a lot of people uncomfortable.
More tables with all kinds of stuff set up on this side of the jail. Wait I see some fresh vegetables. Look at those tomatoes and that lettuce. Wish they had a small batch of lettuce, that is too much for just me. I will get one of the yellow tomatoes to go on my bologna sandwich for lunch.
I like the wide variety of stuff here, sure is different than what I remember a farmers’ market looked like when I was growing up. I love Constitution Square; it holds so much of the history of our town’s past. Walking these grounds make me thankful for all the men who met here so many years ago to build a future for all of us.
Main Street traffic is a lot heavier than I remember and they seem to drive a little faster too. I made it to the other side finally. Before I go back up toward Third, I got to stop in at Burkes and get some donut holes and something to drink.
The Henson Hotel sat on this corner; the building is still here but I don’t think it is a hotel anymore. Looks like several businesses occupy the building now, but I do like the color, the orange trim makes the building pop.
Across the street again, at least Second is not as wide as Main. The State theatre was here in this building and after it closed many other businesses called it home for a short time.
I know there was something beside the theatre, but I can’t remember what it was, oh well I’ll just walk on up the street.
The buildings look about the same but where are the stores, The Gem Supply, the men’s clothing store and Cinderella store. They are all gone and now it looks like an investment company, a coffee store and a store with artwork have replaced them.
Where are all the people? The street has a few people walking but not many, I guess people of today don’t walk like they used to, but then the stores of today are more oriented toward a certain clientele than when I was a young girl.
I loved looking in the windows of this store, it had toys in it and had stuff I could dream of it was the Five & Dime store, today it is Danville Office Equipment. Part of this building was Chesnut- Salter- Best Hardware Store. My grandpa used to say they had the best hammers in town.
This building is now a small boutique, but I still remember it as ABC Grill. I loved walking past it and all those smells coming out of it.
The building on the corner is now a bank, but it too has had several occupants over the years. There’s more of them little black light poles on this corner. That one over there looks a little beat up.
I miss all the old stores, but I realize that things change but sometimes I wish they didn’t have to change so fast. Maybe they didn’t and it was just that I got older and haven’t caught up with my age yet.
Either way it is time to head back down Third toward my car and call it a day. Go home fry me a slice of bologna and add a fresh slice of tomato, and sit back and listen to some music from yesteryears.
I have enjoyed my walks, and while I may not like all the changes I have seen, I do like the look of the buildings on Main Street. I know that I must accept change if I am to live in today’s world, but I still will hold on to all my memories of days gone by and combine the two worlds when possible. I am thankful I live in a small town that still holds on to part of its past.

If the walls at my dad's old country store could talk, they would have many stories to tell. Tales of the" Good old days...
02/07/2026

If the walls at my dad's old country store could talk, they would have many stories to tell. Tales of the" Good old days." Storytellers such as
Mr. Horace Cole, Mr. Dale Curtsinger, and many more. Stories of C**n hunting experiences, people of the area who were funnier than any Television program you might have watched, those who lived their lives honestly and without pretense. Those with no booklearning, just common sense and country wisdom.
They described folks in their stories with sensible speech using phrases like "mad as a hornet" and "mad as an old wet hen." Someone easily provoked was "as sour as a pickle," or "an old windbag." When describing certain folks, they used phrases like, "their elevator don't go all the way to the top," or "he is as dumb as a rock," or "her face would stop an eight-day clock."
Other common expressions that sprinkled the conversations of our store-telling elders were, "I woke up at the crack of dawn,"
``````and, "I woke up before the roosters this morning."
One of my favorite groups of customers at my dad's country store was the "c**n hunting tribe." I loved to hear those guys razz each other about their hunting dogs. "That ole dog ain't gonna run no c**ns, he's too lazy to eat a biscuit," they often said to another.
Those less fortunate were referred to as "being as poor as Job's turkey," or "they ain't got two pennies to rub together."
When speaking of someone they admired, they might describe them as being a "good feller, but shore (sure) is bullheaded."'An honest-to-goodness compliment was never given without a pinch of salt sprinkled on.
This was the sensible speech of my K**b buddies. Used by almost everyone I knew growing up. Some we still hear folks use today, but not as often as when I was growing up on the K**b. Habits of speech change with the times. Old forms are looked upon as crude, trite, and never used by "educated" folks. But simple, plain, sensible speech had its use and certainly had a colorful way of making the story much more enjoyable for us "K**b Kids."

This Land is My LandKentucky is my land. It is neither southern, northern, eastern, nor western; it is the core of Ameri...
02/05/2026

This Land is My Land

Kentucky is my land. It is neither southern, northern, eastern, nor western; it is the core of America.
Mr. Jesse Stuart once said, "If the United States could be called a body, Kentucky would be its heart." I totally agree with that.
I was not the one to pick where I was born, but my choice would still have been Kentucky.
And if I could have chosen wind to breathe, I would have chosen Kentucky wind with the scent of cedar, pine tree needles, Green to***co leaves, pawpaw, persimmon, and sassafras fragrance that fills the Kentucky air.
If I could have chosen the spot in Kentucky, I would still have chosen Parksville K**b to be the place where I was born. Where four generations of my people have lived and died on that mile-high K**b. It was here I grew from childhood, a place where I first saw Kentucky light creep over the hilltop and breathed the Kentucky air into my lungs until my adulthood, and even until now. It was in these hills I first heard the call of the whip-o-will, the caw of the crow, and the sound of nature creeping through the hills and hollows as night falls.
I followed the little streams that flowed over rocks between the high hills as skillful as an Indian child- and in the summer just as brown-skinned as one.
I ran wild over the rock-rimmed hills, enjoying this land of creeks and forests and running through the fields and valleys scratching my legs on the sawbriers and wild roses.
I enjoyed the four seasons,but if I could I would have by-passed winter and just divided those days equally with spring, summer, and fall.
Yes, Kentucky was and is my land...My home!

·Shared with PublicAlmost true stories from down on the Fork. As written by Mr. Horace Cole. Names and places have been ...
01/29/2026

·Shared with Public
Almost true stories from down on the Fork. As written by Mr. Horace Cole. Names and places have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

W***y Pike decided he was spending too much money at Luther Cosgrove's moonshine still and decided to start making his own.
So, he went out and bought himself a little copper still from ole Slick, who lived down on Mossy Creek, and rigged up his own still.

It didn't take long for customers from the Fork and other roundabout places to come visit W***y's HoHome Brewusiness. One of his best customers was a fellow named Lester Pickett. He came every day to pick up his daily ration of the illegal brew. Lester wasn't known for his hard work and usually wouldn't hit a lick at a black snake, so he found out real soon that W***y would take his IOU.
That turned out to be a big problem for W***y. Every day Lester came, and every day he paid W***y with an IOU.
Finally, W***y had to cut him off until he paid up some of his IOUs. Lester went into a full-blown panic attack.
"W***y. ya can't do that! I need some of that good stuff most ever day, it makes my heart beat good and I might jist die without it."
Go ahead and die," W***y said, " I'll be one of yer parlor bearers.
But I ain't sellin' you no more brew till ye pay off ye debt."
Lester must have found enough cash to pay off his debt because he continued to stop by W***y's establishment every day until the booze finally caught up with him. They buried him out back of his home under a crab apple tree on a cold January morning. They found a half-gallon of moonshine sitting on the floor beside his bed, half empty. W***y kept his promise. He became one of the pallbearers to Lester when he was buried. He helped to carry his casket from the house to his final resting spot.

From the pen of Mr. Horace Cole, the way he heard it.

Mr. Horace Cole, a Kentucky native born in the Forkland area, grew up and spent most of his life in that area. He was a ...
01/17/2026

Mr. Horace Cole, a Kentucky native born in the Forkland area, grew up and spent most of his life in that area. He was a Writer well known by most for his wit and sense of humor. His homeplace no longer stands, and Mr. Cole has moved on to his Resting Place as well. But his writings live on, and all those who knew him still speak his name with a smile and a "Horse Coe" story to tell. (The name given to Horace by my small son, who loved Horace Cole's humorous stories).
I will share one of his poems found in the Forlkand Cookbook.

Cookin' Breakfast

When I began to cook my breakfast,
I was only half awake.
Two eggs went in the slop pail
And a potholder went in my plate.

I used a lot of ketchup
And a tad of mustard too;
The bacion kept getting bigger
The longer that I chewed.

I used four thousand toothpicks
A pickin' at the string,
But I'll get that potholder out
IF it takes me till next spring.
Horace Cole~

After the passing of his wife and later his mother, Mr Cole lived alone for many years in his childhood home.
The Forkland Community is a beautiful valley at the foot of the Boyle County K**bs. A breathtaking place at any time of the year, any season. Lots of History in that valley.

It was  Christmas 1953, and the most memorable Christmas of my childhood for one special reason. It was the year that my...
12/22/2025

It was Christmas 1953, and the most memorable Christmas of my childhood for one special reason. It was the year that my family got electricity in our home, just a few months earlier, and the first time we had a string of electric lights on our Christmas tree.
A week before Christmas, my dad took my brother and me to the woods to cut a Christmas tree. We walked for miles until I finally told Dad to cut one and get back to the house before I lost my fingers and toes to the cold. That was a mistake! He reached down and cut the ugliest little tree standing in the forest. By that time, I was so cold I really didn't care how ugly it was.
When we got back to the house, Dad set up the tree making sure the side with no branches was against the wall. We spent a few moments placing the handmade items in just the right spot on the tree. Strips of colored paper cut and glued end to end forming a chain that circled the tree from bottom to top. We had candy canes made from construction paper and tied to the tree with pieces of Mama's red yarn. One of my favorite ornaments we made were those using the little cloth bags that Dad's Bull Durham to***co came in. We took those little bags, brushed them free of to***co and stuffed them with paper and drew the string tight. We tied them to the tree with more yarn. There were a few other little ornaments we made and hung, and finally it was time to put on our first store-bought ornament...Those lights, eight to the string in red, green, blue, and orange...WE stood back admiring those eight lights strung around the middle of the tree and thought we were the richest kids in the neighborhood.
OH, the joy of 1953.

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Danville, KY
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