Even though I had the pleasure of knowing Grampa Boatright for 14 years, he was already very old when I was born and certainly not in his prime.  Still he had a great zest for life and for fun.  He attracted young folks like honey attracts bees.  He was the ninth of twelve brothers and sisters (by my records) and somehow he was elected to take care of the farm while other siblings were allowed to go to school.  So you wouldn't expect him to become a leading citizen but there is no accounting for the will of God.  Well there is, and I understand why he chose Hiram.  You can tell from the photos that he was a handsome man of imposing stature but he must have seemed even taller when he preached and the people knew that here was a man who lived what he preached.

As a grampa he told me stories and let me ride the "pony" of his foot as he rattled off simple rhymes.  I still remember them today, "I went up to the heeple steeple.  There I met with heaps of people.  Some was whiter and some was blacker and some was the color of chewing t'backer.  His recitation contained not a whit of bigotry.  It was just a child's rhyme and now that I think of it...it seems to argue that all races are welcome in God's house which is more deeply divided today than any other place in modern life.  

He told me how the devil got started by being a bad boy with a terrible temper that got out on hand one day when got so mad he stomped a hole in the earth into which he fell and so he just set up shop.  I enjoyed the story but just because he told it.  He told me about having a dog that died.  Turns out he had my name, Dan.  He buried "old Dan" underneath the large pine tree that used to be close to the chicken coop.  The tree died and disappeared a long time ago.  The coop, the corn crib, the barn, the outhouse and the home (in which I was born) are now just a memory (except for the picture and some nails I kept).