This is a tribute the my Grandfather Jerry "Pap" Herrin who passed away on September 17th.
My Pap Jerry was a coal miner his whole career. He and my Granny had 8 children. Most people would have described him as a hard man maybe even callous. He had no tolerance for stupidity. He was a straight talker who never held back what was on his mind no matter who's feelings got hurt, he just called it how he saw it. I used to tell my parents he was Fred Flinstone because of his booming voice when he got mad. Pap was a survivor of The Scotia Mine disaster in Letcher co. Ky. He was a foreman there and also the leader of the #1 rescue team. He spent a long shift in the dangerous mine after the first explosion searching for the 15 lost. After his team finished ventilating the mine and recovering what could be found they came out to let #2 rescue team pick up the effort. The mine exploded a second time shortly after killing all 11 including several federal mining inpectors. My Pap told the mine inspectors the conditions were not good and not to do anything to that would even cause a spark including using the phones. They didn't listen and an outside mine inspector called in on the phone to the section where the rescue team was staging recovery efforts sparking the second explosion. My Pap worked tirresly on rescue and recovery the next few days after that to bring closure to the many families. It was hard for him and Pap got a far away look when he told me those stories. I'm convinced apart of him died under that mountain. Nevertheless he continued working in the mines and training rescue teams thereafter on mine explosion recovery and rescue. At his funeral his mining hat from Scotia lay beside the casket, inside it he had inscribed his kids names as so they could identify him if another explosion occured.
As hard a man as he was, he had another side that was full of Love and adventure. Most people didn't get to see that side of him, I was one who did.
We lived 3 hours away from Pap and Granny's house. I always got excited when I was told we would be making the drive down to visit. It was a long drive through curvy mountain roads and I often stayed carsick on the way but nothing could hold back my excitement to go to Granny's and Paps. They lived in a cabin on Norris Lake, Pap had built it nestled into the woods in the mid eighties. I had a large family and we would all gather together in that cabin my Pap built and it was always a joyous and wonderful place.
Pap had junk, he loved junk and Chevrolets. He collected everything old, anything that made him happy. He had a passion for collecting Civil War artifacts and Native American artifacts. The walls held many frames of artifacts that I admired in all there wonder and mystery. I would sit up late at night reading his many books about history he collected. And on every visit pap would send me home with a new arrowheads in my pocket. He would tell me stories of his hunting adventures and digs. He told me stories of buried cival war treasure he hunted his whole life trying to find. Every visit he told me something I didn't know, that continued through my whole life up until this year. Pap was sharp and though his short term memory began to fail his long term memory was as sharp and detailed as a razor. He remembered names and places from years ago. Me and him could talk for hours and as I began to learn artifacts I would do more talking than him lol. He loved for me to tell him about his finds and everytime I came he would pull out something new for me to check out or admire.
Several years back I began taking points I had made and giving to him. He would light up when I handed him a new one to put up. I didn't know it for a long time but he kept the first one I gave him in his pocket for years up until his passing. It was my poor attempt at a Clovis but he couldn't believe it's resemblance to the ones in the Overstreet book I gave him. My cousin found it in his items and gave it back to me at the hospital. It was dinged and looked a much darker color from him handling it all the time. I returned it to his pocket at the funeral.
We buried pap on a hill beside my Granny, just across the way from we're the mine disaster happened. I will never forget my Pap and the seed he planted in me at an early age or all the lessons he taught me. If it wasn't for him I doubt I'd be here on this site.
Love you pap!
My Pap Jerry was a coal miner his whole career. He and my Granny had 8 children. Most people would have described him as a hard man maybe even callous. He had no tolerance for stupidity. He was a straight talker who never held back what was on his mind no matter who's feelings got hurt, he just called it how he saw it. I used to tell my parents he was Fred Flinstone because of his booming voice when he got mad. Pap was a survivor of The Scotia Mine disaster in Letcher co. Ky. He was a foreman there and also the leader of the #1 rescue team. He spent a long shift in the dangerous mine after the first explosion searching for the 15 lost. After his team finished ventilating the mine and recovering what could be found they came out to let #2 rescue team pick up the effort. The mine exploded a second time shortly after killing all 11 including several federal mining inpectors. My Pap told the mine inspectors the conditions were not good and not to do anything to that would even cause a spark including using the phones. They didn't listen and an outside mine inspector called in on the phone to the section where the rescue team was staging recovery efforts sparking the second explosion. My Pap worked tirresly on rescue and recovery the next few days after that to bring closure to the many families. It was hard for him and Pap got a far away look when he told me those stories. I'm convinced apart of him died under that mountain. Nevertheless he continued working in the mines and training rescue teams thereafter on mine explosion recovery and rescue. At his funeral his mining hat from Scotia lay beside the casket, inside it he had inscribed his kids names as so they could identify him if another explosion occured.
As hard a man as he was, he had another side that was full of Love and adventure. Most people didn't get to see that side of him, I was one who did.
We lived 3 hours away from Pap and Granny's house. I always got excited when I was told we would be making the drive down to visit. It was a long drive through curvy mountain roads and I often stayed carsick on the way but nothing could hold back my excitement to go to Granny's and Paps. They lived in a cabin on Norris Lake, Pap had built it nestled into the woods in the mid eighties. I had a large family and we would all gather together in that cabin my Pap built and it was always a joyous and wonderful place.
Pap had junk, he loved junk and Chevrolets. He collected everything old, anything that made him happy. He had a passion for collecting Civil War artifacts and Native American artifacts. The walls held many frames of artifacts that I admired in all there wonder and mystery. I would sit up late at night reading his many books about history he collected. And on every visit pap would send me home with a new arrowheads in my pocket. He would tell me stories of his hunting adventures and digs. He told me stories of buried cival war treasure he hunted his whole life trying to find. Every visit he told me something I didn't know, that continued through my whole life up until this year. Pap was sharp and though his short term memory began to fail his long term memory was as sharp and detailed as a razor. He remembered names and places from years ago. Me and him could talk for hours and as I began to learn artifacts I would do more talking than him lol. He loved for me to tell him about his finds and everytime I came he would pull out something new for me to check out or admire.
Several years back I began taking points I had made and giving to him. He would light up when I handed him a new one to put up. I didn't know it for a long time but he kept the first one I gave him in his pocket for years up until his passing. It was my poor attempt at a Clovis but he couldn't believe it's resemblance to the ones in the Overstreet book I gave him. My cousin found it in his items and gave it back to me at the hospital. It was dinged and looked a much darker color from him handling it all the time. I returned it to his pocket at the funeral.
We buried pap on a hill beside my Granny, just across the way from we're the mine disaster happened. I will never forget my Pap and the seed he planted in me at an early age or all the lessons he taught me. If it wasn't for him I doubt I'd be here on this site.
Love you pap!
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