Sounds of the Past
By John Paul Brady


Posted on March 20, 2016 2:38 PM



John Paul Brady is a graduate of and former teacher and coach at Lewisburg High School before becoming a pastor. He and his wife, the former Sherri Pitt, live in North Carolina. He and his brother Mike were the sons of Victor and Louise Brady, who lived at and ran a store at the entranceway to North Logan.

The 1950s are over a half a century in the past, but sometimes I hear them calling out to me, reminding me of simple scenes from my childhood and early teen years. These sounds of the past bring comforting thoughts of simple days and happy times.

I close my eyes and hear the rusty chains of the school playground swings squeaking, the yells of classmates playing tag and a variety of other sounds coming from the dusty playground behind what we affectionately called the “Little Building.” I hear the sounds of lockers slamming, and feet running down the hallway as the tardy bell rings.

On occasion there was the unmistakable echo of discipline being administ (ered to the backside of a student who had lost his way. Questioning glances around the room sought an answer as to who this unfortunate soul might be.

The sound of a basketball bouncing, cheerleaders cheering, pep band playing, and fans yelling take me back to the small crackerjack gym where I spent some of the best days of my life. The crack of a bat hitting a baseball, and the pop of the ball pounding the pocket of a glove awaken a desire in me to play this wonderful game just one more time. Yet, wisdom tells me that this old body can never participate in that sport again. 

Sometimes, especially on those restless nights when I can't sleep, I hear summer night sounds from my home place on Brady’s Stretch where our house sat in the “Y” between the Coopertown Road and the Lewisburg Road. An ensemble of tree frogs positioned in the large oaks around our house serenaded me each night. The pitch black darkness of night seemed to play its own unique melody. Even the old house with its moans, and crackles, and pops joined the symphony with just the right blend to make the lullaby complete for a young boy’s slumber.

The revving of engines from two cars sitting side by side often broke the silence of an early Sunday morning there on Brady’s Stretch. A young man standing between the cars dropping the flag, the squealing of tires and the drag race had begun. I loved to watch from my upstairs bedroom window.

Even a visit to that sound of my past brings comforting feelings. When I take time to listen I hear them; dogs barking in the distance, my dad calling the cattle, awakening to the local radio station, WRUS, a rooster crowing, my mother singing, all sounds from the past that I will never hear again, at least in that sweet, comforting context.

The LoJo

Comments from John Paul Brady about accompanying pictures:

Here are some Coopertown men at one of the cookouts we had. I notice L. C. and Stanford Kees, George Thomas, Neil Grayson, Joe Mayhew, and Hilton Boyles.

“This is the Kedron Homemakers Club. The picture was made in our dining room. left to right: Mrs. Lydia Shelton, Nancy Brady, Mrs. Minnie Kees, Twyla Jenkins, Myra Boyles, Helen Wilhem, my mother Louise Brady, Sadie Burgher, and Mary Anderson. The lady in the back may be Bernice Smotherman.”

” My gradfather Henry A. ‘Bub’ Brady, my Uncle John Brady and me in our front yard. This was made not long before my grandfather died.”

“This is me standing with my back to the house where Mike and I grew up. The road behind ne is Highway 431 and this spot is the beginning of Brady's Stretch, where probably some reading this did a little drag racing. I used to watch the races on early Sunday mornings from the upstairs window facing the road.

“Some of my cousins and me, the little boy, in our front yard out beside The Rock. My grandfather enjoyed finding odd rocks, arrow heads and such. He discovered this huge rock while digging a pond on our farm. He drug it from the backside of the farm with a team of mules. I guess thousands of pictures have been made of people posing on or beside the Rock for over probably 75 years. It has always been quite a landmark.




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