A Hot August Wedding

I've been told that my wedding was quiet entertaining.  Everyone that was present on that hot, humid day back on August 30, 1975, is still willing to talk about what an interesting event it was.  I was one of the main players in this program, but I was so busy just getting through it that I didn't even notice some things.  Of course Mike doesn't talk much, never did and probably never will, but he did say he wished we had eloped.  We didn't elope and I for one am glad we didn't.  What would people have to talk about if we had?

I met Michael Childress in February, 1975.  I had just gotten out of a courtship with other man and didn't think I was ready to jump back into another one, but I did.  I was 17, lived at home with my mother.  My grandparents lived next door. My grandmother had bought herself a new car, a 1974 Gremlin.  It was bright yellow.  She said I could drive it when ever I wanted.  When I found myself single for the first time in over a year, I was looking forward to just hang out with my friends and cruise the loop from McKinney's Tire to the turn around just below Dolly's Dairy Freeze.  I was now old enough to be trusted with Granny's car.  Mom and Granny set a curfew of 11:00 on weeknights, midnight on weekends.  That must have been the standard hours, because everyone in my class was up town cruising or attending a football or basket game at the same time.  On February 25, my best friend, Rhonda and myself had gone to the Kiwi for supper.  After we ate, we drove through town and met Mike and his cousin, Benny several times.  It was dark and cold outside, so we just waved at each other and continued to cruise.  Back in those days everybody knew everybody and who was dating who.   I don't remember giving Mike a second thought that night and he says the same about me.  Rhonda and I were just about home on Brindle Ridge, when we met a car driving really slow.  I slowed down too so I could see whose car it was.  Rhonda recognized the green Monte Carlo, "Stop!" she said "let's talk to them awhile."  So I stopped right in the middle of the road. Mike drove on a little farther but backed up along side my georgous Gremlin.  We traded "Hi's" and" what are you doing." (Mike won't admit it, but I believe he was driving past my house that night because he already had me in mind.)   I figured it wasn't a good place to just stop in the middle of a busy road, so I asked Mike and Benny to turn around and come back to my house.  We sat and talked to them until my grandpa started blinking the porch lights, which was his sign for me to get back in the house.  I always got in fast because once I didn't go fast enough and Grandpa came outside in his underwear.  Mike asked me to meet him at the last basketball game of the regular season the following week.  Of course I met him and that's where it all began.

I fell for Mike by the third date.  He was my complete opposite and I think that's what attracted me to him.  You never knew what he was thinking.  He asked me out for every weekend, but I still wasn't sure if he even liked me.  One of his friends had a locker below mine and he kept telling me things Mike had said to him about me.  He was our "go between."  When I was in school, Mr. Saylor always made sure that the girls got the upper lockers.  Probably because our dresses were so short he figured we would reveal too much if we had to kneel down and he was right.  Wow, those dresses were really, really short. Anyhow, I dated Mike all spring and by June, I no longer doubted whether Mike liked me or not.  He had given me his class ring and in those days sometimes that was as good as wedding ring. He didn't come right out and ask me to wear his ring, but rather said he had gotten some paint on it and could I clean it up.  I worked hard on that ring and when I showed him how clean I had gotten it, he said, "just keep it."  Not very romantic, but I barely knew what romance was anyhow.

July 25, 1975, Mike gave me an engagement ring.  It was a surprise.  He worked in Louisville at General Electric so  I only got to see him on weekends and usually  not until Saturday because he worked on Friday nights.  This particular night, he surprised me by showing up at the house and then really surprised me with the ring.  I had been engaged once before and Mom wasn't happy when I showed her my engagement ring that time, but this time with Mike, she was happy.  She's always been a good judge of character.

Mike had traded his green Monte Carlo for a brown one.  I remember it was the biggest car ever.  He let me drive it sometimes, but I was scared to death.  I felt like I was driving an army tank.  Mike and his brothers and cousins all liked cars, especially Corvettes.  Mike had a  '66 little red corvette,  www.motorera.com as the song says.  He wouldn't drive it if it rained and he washed and waxed it continually.  It had these huge, wide tires on the back and Cragar cragarwheels.com wheels.  All the guys wanted those kind of wheels in those days.  It was a hard top, but had a soft top too.  It was so much fun that summer to ride around town in that car.  Everybody stared at us when we drove around.  The older folks thought it was the ugliest car ever, but the younger people thought it was cool.  I never got to drive it because back then I couldn't drive a stick shift.  We managed to do a lot of living in the six months since we met.  We fished, visited, road around every old dirt road in the county while listening to Bachman Turner Overdrive on an 8 track tape that Mike had bought at Western Auto.  We did a lot of "partying" that summer too.  When I think back on it, it was a party at all, more like a group meeting. The news would travel fast that everybody was meeting either at "The Cross" or "The Tunnels."  Both locations were off Hummel road just a few miles from town.  I'm still Facebook friends with so many of the people who were at the "parties" every weekend.  Sometimes we talk about the things that occured during a party.  We never got into any trouble with the police and even though we were all young, most under 20, we seemed older.  We valued each others friendship and we always had each other's back.  Most of us told our parents where we would be if they needed us.  Some of the couples were married.  That summer of 1975 was the best time of my life.

Mike and I couldn't wait to say, "I do."  We set a date of August 30 which was a little over a month and didn't give us much time to plan. Our wedding was small, I had a maid of honor and a bridesmaid.  Mike had his best man and an usher.  Mom made the dresses for the girls and the guys rented those dusty blue tuxes that were popular then. Me, Mom, Anna Lee and her Mom, Faye Rigsby all drove to Lexington to buy my dress.  I got money for a graduation gift and used that to buy my dress.  I bought it at McAplins, which was a department store located in the Lexington Mall.  I bought a size 2 and still had to have some alterations.  Total cost of the dress was $127.00. Mom gave Mike her wedding ring to give to me.  Rhonda and I spent a couple days buying candles, making rice bags, that was before it was determined that rice was bad for the birds, so I had real rice. A little lady in her 90's made my Cake and only charged $25.00.  My grandpa had gotten really sick, he was dying with cancer. My granny stayed by his side at Berea hospital for 60 days.  When I started planning my wedding, I planned to have the ceremony in mom's back yard hoping that grandpa would feel like being there. We got folding chairs from one of the funeral homes,  I hired Mrs. Ruth Fain, who owned Mt. Vernon Florist, to coordinate things.  The hardest part was meeting with the minister, Bro. Raymond Flynn.  I was expecting  the "you are too young" speech, but it didn't come.  We had picked out an apartment close to Mike's brothers, Lee, Phil and Bobby all worked at General Electric with Mike.  Granny gave us a couch, and a dinette set.   I took my bedroom suit from home as well as several knick-knacks.  Rhonda had us a household shower so we had a lot of nice gifts like towels, sheets and kitchen appliances.

Mike had a lot of nieces and nephews.  It was hard to pick who we wanted to be in our wedding because we didn't want to make someone feel bad.  I ended up having his niece, Stephanie, for  my flower girl and two six year old nephews. Brent was the ring bearer and Scott carried the train on my dress. Both had matching blue tuxes also.  Mike's brother, Petey was the best man and Mike's good friend, Glen Hammond was the usher.  Rhonda was my maid of honor, while Patty Taylor {Kirby} was my bridesmaid.  I asked my friend since grade school, Kathy Pope (Reynolds) to play the wedding march on small organ since we couldn't find a real piano.  Mike's sister, Shanda handed out the rice bags.  My cousins, Anna Lee and Kaye Rigsby kept the guest book and a combo of sister-in-laws and friends served the cake.

I had Mike try his wedding band on just to be sure it fit.  Well, it didn't.  Rather it fit, if he could ever get it over his knuckle.  The day of the wedding, I coated his ring with vaseline hoping it would just slide over those huge knuckles.  Granny and Grandpa's little grocery was closed that afternoon.  We had cousins from Ohio staying with us it was a very exciting time.  Grandpa was too ill to be there. Granny left him just long enough to attend the wedding then went back to his side.  He passed away that September and probably never realized that I had gotten married.

 Since my dad had passed away four years earlier and Grandpa was too sick to be there, I chose my cousin, Glen Rigsby, to walk me down the aisle.  He was waiting on me right outside the kitchen door.  We had to walk around one of grandpa's storage buildings to get to the section of yard designated for our nuptials. Kathy played "Here Comes the Bride" but it didn't sound the same on the table top keyboard we had borrowed.  Mrs. Fain had a beautiful decorated arch with a wedding bell hanging, unbeknownst  to him, right above Bro. Flynn's head.  I do believe that Glen was more nervous than I was.  When we got halfway up the aisle, I heard the guests start to laugh.  I looked forward at the wedding party and they too were laughing.  My Uncle Albert Rigsby, who couldn't hear well, said, "Well, there goes the tail end of it."  That brought even more laughter.  I looked at Glen and he was as puzzled as me.  I looked up at Mike and he was sweetly just looking at me. Ahhh.  Out of the corner of my eye, a dog I had never saw before nor ever saw again, was walking slowly around the keyboard.  He was sniffing around and for a fleeting moment I thought he was going to hike his leg, but thank goodness he didn't.  He walked out of the yard never to be seen again.

It took a few minutes for us to gather ourselves and get back to getting married.  Bro. Flynn started his service and what seemed like five minutes later, he was still talking.  I found out afterward, that Glen was sure that the preacher had gotten mixed up and was going to marry Glen and Me.  Finally, he got around to the part we've all heard before.  He asked, "who gives this bride in marriage?" After threatening to not do it, mom stood up and said, "I do."  Then came the rings. Rhonda handed Mike my ring which slipped right on the right finger,  we had worried we would mess that part up.  Petey handed me Mike's ring which I had coated in vaseline.  Apparently he had twirled around his nervous fingers for awhile because all my vaseline was gone.  Sure enough, the ring went as far as Mike's knuckle and stuck there.  Another pause fell over the crowd.  Mike slowly took his right hand, which I had just let go of,  and pushed the ring over his knuckle.  This brought a smile to Bro. Flynn's face. He pronounced us husband and wife, we kissed, everyone clapped and that was the ceremony.  The preacher announced that the reception was to be held in mom's house and added that by the looks of the cloud he had been looking at the whole time, we were about to have a storm.

We were so caught up in the moment that we didn't notice that the skies had gotten darker.  We made it to mom's house just as the storm hit.  The pretty arch that Mrs. Fain had worked so hard on, blew over. Kathy had to hurry and get the organ inside.  The chairs needed folded before they got wet.  It was mayhem for a few minutes.  It really got interesting when everyone there, around 80 guests, had to fit into mom's tiny house.  We cut our cake and drunk our punch in front of a packed house.  The lightening and thunder added a musical ambience to everything.  We got changed and were ready to leave, but it was still raining.  We braved the weather anyhow.  As soon as I stepped out the door, Scott, Mike's nephew, hit me in the face with a rice bag.  He didn't know he was supposed to open up the bag and just throw the rice.  Then several more children decided to do the same thing.  It was like dodging bullets along with the rain drops to get to the car.  One good thing about the rain was that it washed at least two cans of shaving creme off the cars windshield.  What a mess.  We drove toward Mt. Vernon with a long convoy of friends and family following blowing car horns full blast.  By the time we got to Knoxville, TN, the rain had finally stopped.  I tried not to cry, but I felt so bad for Mom. I hated to leave her all alone. Granny was back with grandpa, the company left and she was left all alone to clean up the mess.  Momma never liked to be alone.  I slept with her every night since my dad died.  I had actually slept with her the night before I got married.  I guess I made my first decision as a married woman somewhere on I-75 headed south.  That was to concentrate on the man I loved and ask God to take care of Momma.

Of course in 1975 we had no phones.  We had one in our room, but didn't have the money to use it.  We missed everybody so much that we only spent one night in TN.  We wanted to come home and see what everybody was doing.  All of Mike's siblings were together for the first time in years so they had all gone bowling after the wedding.  It was Labor Day weekend so we all got together at Mike's brother Cork's trailer and had a big party.  We played every 45 record we owned and a few 33's.  We danced, laughed, hugged and stumbled with everyone until daylight.  That night, the night before we were going to our tiny apartment in Louisville, I slept in mom's bed, but instead of mom, I now shared the bed with my husband.

That has been 38 years and two children ago.  We've lost so many loved ones since then.  We've had people marry into the family and then "un-marry" the family.  The number of nieces and nephews we have has grown to too many to count. Grandpa, Granny, Mike's sweet mother, Tessie, his father Pete, brothers, Bobby and Phil, and the man who gave me away, Glen have all passed.  Mom married again after 19 years alone. Times have been good, but there's been some trying ones too.  Bro. Flynn is still alive and preaching.  We see him from time to time and he always tells about standing under the bell watching a huge thunderstorm brew. One mystery has never been solved, where did that dog come from and where did it go?

My Fifteen Minutes of Fame

.Growing up during the late 60's and 70's, I remember the Vietnam War more than I want to.  Every night on the evening news Walter Cronkite would give a report on the war, including the number of dead.  The numbers always made me think we were winning this terrible war, but now I know poor Walter just reported what he was told to.

Along with coverage of the war, the television also reported other stories that made an 11 year old girl like myself terrified that we were all going to hell in a hand basket.  The year 1968 is the year I remember most for constant unrest.  April of that year, Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis, TN, June 1968, Bobby Kennedy was shot and killed in Los Angeles while campaigning for President of the United States.  The funeral trail was shown on television for what seemed liked weeks, and August 1968 saw riots in the streets of large cities during the Democrat and Republican conventions. 
 
I had uncles that had been soldiers in World War II, Korea and one in 3 wars, so a solider held a special place in my heart. I wore a bracelet engraved with the name of a Prisoner of War everyday.   Every solider  I saw on television reminded me he was some one's son, grandson, brother, cousin and boyfriend.  A lot of home town boys served in Vietnam.  Every week the local newspaper ran a column with the names of those young men who had been drafted.  By 1975, I had met my soul mate, Michael Childress.  I was 17, he was 21 and had a draft card. The draft started in 1969 and lasted until 1972.  Mike was 1-A which meant there was a good chance he would have to go to war.  By the time we had met, the war was in it's final stage and Mike didn't have to go to war. The War in Vietnam lasted almost 20 years.  It started on Tuesday, November 1, 1955 and ended Wednesday April 30, 1975.

Years later, in the spring of 2002, I was working as the Accounts Payable Clerk for Rockcastle Co. Schools in Mt. Vernon. I shared an office with Sue Rowe, who was the Payroll Clerk. Sue was planning on attending her 35th. Brodhead High School Class reunion.  She had been in contact with some of her classmates who asked her to prepare a memorial for a classmate that had been killed in Vietnam.  Sue asked if I had time could I help her find some pictures and info. on David Chaney from a little wide spot in the road named Bloss.  During my lunch breaks, I checked on the World Wide Web, as we called it back in the day, for anything about David Chaney.  Right away I found a web site,  http://thewall-usa.com/. I typed in all I knew about David, which was just his name and state.  From there I was directed to a page that listed his name, David Glenn Chaney, age 20, born March 7, 1950, was a protestant and was single.  Sue made a nice poster with included David's picture and the personal information I had found on the web including that he had died on August 31, 1970 in South Vietnam. \

 
Several web sites invited the reader to leave a message so that a dead solider's family could read it. For some reason I felt lead to wright something on David Chaney's page.  I can't remember the exact words, but I indicated that I worked with one of his classmates and was so sorry that he didn't make it home.

Jump forward to April, 2005.  I had left the Accounts Payable job and was now working at Rockcastle County High School.  I hadn't been in good health and when the job for an assistant to the director of the Youth Services Center, came open, I applied and was transferred.  I had started working at RCHS as an Instructional Assistant in 1990.  I knew what working at the high school entailed and I was ready for a change.  Late in the day, I took the time to check my email before I went home.  I saw that I had mail from a name that I didn't recognize.  The e-mail started with, Hello Ms. Childress, my name is Tony Dodson. The letter went on to say that Mr. Dodson had served with David Chaney at the time of his death and the reason he had contacted me was in hope that I might be able to help him locate David's family members.  Mr.Dodson went on to say that if I would give him a moment he had a story to relay to me.  He had gotten my name from the posting I had made in 2002 on the Vietnam Veterans Virtual Memorial Wall.  He told me a story about having attended a  reunion along with several of his comrades the past summer.  He said that himself along with five other men from the old army outfit, Troop A. 2nd. Squadron, 1st. Armored Calvary, met at least once a year.  This was the outfit that David Chaney served with.  The last reunion he had learned that a promise one of the men from the unit, Richard "Reverend" Hines, had made to David 35 years earlier hadn't been fulfilled. He said he would send me more details via another e-mail.  Mr. Dodson went on to ask if I could find a phone number or address of any of David Chaney's family members.  He along with 5 others needed closure and if they could talk to family members they felt they could complete their task.

I sat at my computer reading the e-mail over and over.  I got the attention of other workers in the office with me and none of us could hardly believe what we were seeing.  Really?  Seriously?  Someone living in Philadelphia that had been in the Vietnam War had contacted me asking for help?  It was almost too mind boggling to be true, but yet it was.Tony's second e-mail had arrived.  It stated that David had bought a Bowie Knife at the Western Auto store in Mt. Vernon in 1969.  He had told his buddy, "Reverend" the story about how he intended to use the knife when he went deer hunting that fall. When Deer season came around, David was already serving in the United States Army. David was a shy, soft-spoken solider, but  had became good friends with all his war buddies, especially, "Reverend".  He had told "Reverend" about buying the knife back home. He also told "Reverend," "If something happens to me over here, please get this old knife back to my family in Kentucky.  I don't want it left over here." When Tony and members of the Blackhawk Squadron had last met, "Reverend" felt it was time that he told David's story as well as ask for help.  He had never forgotten  his promise, yet after 35 years, he had kept it a secret.

   I hadn't known David Chaney, but I did know one of his brothers, Stanley.  Stanley Chaney was a year ahead of me in school.  He often sat with my cousin, Kaye and myself at the home basketball games.  I had lost contact with him through the years, but a look in the phonebook shown me that Stanley was still in the area.  I called his number, and the number of  his cousin, Judy Chaney Bullock with no answer.  The next day I started calling again.  I called the number of Steve Chaney and Woo Hoo someone answered.  It was Steve's wife, I explained who I was and asked if Steve had a brother named David that hadn't came home from the war in Vietnam. "Yes, she said.  Let me tell Steve." Steve Chaney came to the phone.  He was a very soft spoken man.  I could tell he was apprehensive of me and my strange phone call.  I went on to tell the story about Tony Dodson contacting me via e-mail regarding the memorial post I had written.  Steve listened quietly on the other end of the phone and when I asked if I could give him Tony's phone number, he said, "yes, I'd sure like that."  Can you imagine how Steve Chaney must have felt? 

On April 18, I sent an e-mail to Tony Dodson letting him know that I had made contact with David Chaney's family and had given Tony's number to Steve Chaney.  I got mail back thanking me for helping us old Jungle Rats out of what was becoming a dead end street.  He said when he got the call from Steve he was floored.  He passed on Steve's phone number and address to the others and a a ceremony was planned at the graveside of David Chaney.  He finished by saying, "God is good. The Lord truly works wonders." 
                       
The guys kept me in the "loop" as far as plans were going.  It was going to be hard to get everyone together at the same time, but they would be having a ceremony soon.  The Chaney family, along with friends from church and the local honor guard handled all the plans. 
 

 On Saturday, July 23, 2005, myself, my friend Sue Rowe who was David's classmate, along with a host of family and friends met in the hot Kentucky sun at the McKiney Cemetery.  I had no idea what a day I was going to have.  Rick Anderkin, Editor of the local newspaper, The Signal, along with reporters and cameramen from the Lexington television channels and reporters from the Lexington Herald-Leader.  I couldn't wait to met the Calvary members.  I wanted to put faces with the e-mails.  Finally, a van pulled up and six of Amercia's Finest stepped out.  Seven members from American Legion Post #71, (Rockcastle Co.), marched toward the grave carrying the American flag and the MIA, missing in action, flag.  One flag was held over David's grave during the service. A band student from the high school played Taps.  The six soldiers joined arms and marched over to David's grave.  They knelt down in a circle and prayed.  They prayed for David Chaney, prayed for the others that hadn't made it home with them, prayed for a time gone wrong and for forgiveness for taking 35 years to fulfil a promise.  When they cried, everyone cried.  If I live to be 100 I don't think I will have ever seen anything as moving as what I witnessed that day. 

 

Reverend stood up and faced the somber crowd.  Out of his back pocket he pulled a worn scabbard holding a Bowie Knife. "I made a promise," Reverend said softly, "and I'm here to keep that promise."  He then placed the knife into the hands of Dennis Chaney, David's brother.  The ceremony continued with spoken prayers, an Eulogy, prayers and the presentation of the flag that had been held over David's grave that day, to Chaney family members. 

The "Reverend" later took the time to tell reporter Jim Warren the story of how he became caretaker of the knife. He also remembered the day that David had died.  He was in a lead tank that bore the brunt of an ambush in the Song Mao AO in II Corps. Another solider was also killed with David.  The Chaney family indicated that upon hearing of David's death and later during their grief, they wondered what happened to the knife.  They came to the conclusion that it must have been destroyed along with David and the tank.  Having that knife back in the hands of brothers Steve, Stanley, Dennis and sister, Twilia Leuning was the final step in the healing process for the Chaneys and the Blackhawk Squad members, especially Richard Hines.  He had pulled David out of the burning tank somehow and then kept the knife close to him, probably never intending to give it back.  He wanted to keep part of David with him and did until he told his secret in 2004. At first Tony and the others had wanted to return the knife to the family privately, but when word was spread by the family here in our small community, it soon turned into a full fledged memorial ceremony. One of the local boys, Bobby Phelps, had gone through basic training with David but wasn't in the same squad.  Bobby was there when he was needed and that was to escort the body of David Glenn Chaney back to the hills of Kentucky.

After the graveside service, we all met at the community center for a wonderful home cooked meal.  I bounced around having my picture taken with the soldiers and talking with them like I had known them all my life.  They had came from all over the U.S.  Richard Hines, St. Helen, MI, Larry Drummond, Overland Park, Kansas, Randy Teal, Ocean Springs, MS, Vic Reyes, Berwyn, IL, Tony Dodson, Philadelphia, PA, Jon Kosteck, New Haven, IN.  They recognized me as the angel who made it all happen.  I didn't feel like an angel, I just felt lucky.  The soldiers fighting during the war had all been dear to me, now they had wonderful names and faces that made them even dearer.  Time has passed and I often wonder where they all are and how they are doing.  For some reason, I can't make myself look them up on the Internet.  I'm sure it would be easy, but I guess I want to leave things just like they were that day: peaceful.

(Visit this website for more information: Bowie Knife Fights, Fighters & Fighting Techniques. . .: Soldier's Bowie Knife Returned to Family

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