Fishing with Uncle Willie

 Growing up I always felt safe when I was with Uncle Willie.  Whether sitting on the river bank with our fishing poles or floating on the river in one of Dad’s flat bottom boats I was never afraid with him around.  I couldn’t swim a lick, and Mom was terrified of the river, but if I was with Uncle Willie, I could roam from one end of Yellow Hill Bottom to the other.

On summer days, as soon as our chores were done, we would head to the river bank with our poles.  A can of worms could be filled quickly at the spot where the house drain emptied into the garden. We would sit for hours, intently watching our lines.  The birds, frogs and dragonflies were our entertainment.

When I got a little older we were allowed to take Dad's flat-bottom boat out.  We would pole it upriver to near the swinging bridge behind the Rasnicks. The water got too swift there for us to go any farther.  We would then let the boat drift down to just above the shoals behind Aunt Virgie’s.  There we would grab the long wooden poles we used to push the boat and pole back up to the swinging bridge to repeat the circuit.

Drifting downstream we would cast jitterbugs, spoons or spinner baits toward the shoreline trying to entice a bass to come out of hiding.  We seldom caught anything but it was great fun anyway.

Clyde

Knuckleball Memories

The only time I didn't feel safe with Uncle Willie was when I was trying to catch his knuckleball.  When I was 9 or 10 years old I was "big for my age."  Willie was 15 or 16 and playing high school baseball in the spring and American Legion baseball in the summer.  He would find me sitting on Maw Rachel's front porch, one of my favorite places to hide from my little sisters.  He would toss me a catcher's mitt and say, "Let's throw the ball a little bit."  

We would find something to use as a makeshift home plate and put it down in the middle of the dirt (Red Dog) road that ran in front of our houses.  I would squat down behind the plate while he stepped off the distance to the pitcher's mound.

Willie was a really good baseball player, the first one picked if you were choosing up sides for a sandlot game.  He was a starter at shortstop or second base on the high school team and an All-Star for his American Legion squad.  He was a solid infielder but he wanted to pitch.  He had a good fastball, change-up, and a sweeping curveball.  He could control them pretty well and change speeds to keep a hitter guessing.  But he wanted to master the knuckleball.

The problem was that his knuckleball didn't want to be mastered.  He would get a grip on the ball with his fingertips and knuckles, windup, and hurl the ball toward the plate.  You could see the seams on the ball as it streamed toward the catcher's mitt.  They didn't move, there was no spin at all on the ball.  As a result, the ball would dip or rise, curve to the right or left, or some combination of these.  

Willie didn't know what the ball was going to do. The ball didn't know what it was going to do. And I, squatting there with it hurling toward me, sure didn't know what it would do.  Most of the time I could react fast enough to catch it.  Every so often however, a ball would look like it was heading for the center of the strike zone but then it would dip straight down, strike the ground about two feet in front of the plate, and ricochet off one of my shins.

That hurt! A lot. 

I would bite my tongue, retrieve the ball, and toss it back to Willie.  I couldn't yelp or cry or whine. I couldn't let Willie think I wasn't big enough or strong enough to be playing with him.  That would be far worse than any pain in my shin.

That "biting my tongue" thing was an example of the adolescent wisdom I learned from Willie.  I can remember him telling me, "When you stub your toe or hit your thumb with a hammer, just bite down on your tongue real hard. The pain from your toe or thumb won't feel so bad."  I bit my tongue a lot growing up.  Sadly, biting my tongue isn't helping me deal with the pain of him being gone now.

Clyde

Willie Ray Looney 1942 - 2024

 Willie Ray Looney, a loving husband, father, grandfather, and cherished soul departed this world on January 4, 2024.  Surrounded by the love of family and friends, he transitioned gracefully into eternity, leaving behind a legacy that will forever be etched in the hearts of those fortunate enough to have known him.

Born on October 5, 1942, to Rachel Justice and John Looney of Road Creek, in Pike County, he graced our lives with his presence for 81 years. A beacon of warmth and kindness, he navigated life with grace, embodying the virtues of compassion, resilience, and unwavering patience. His departure leaves an indelible void but also serves as a poignant reminder of the beauty and fragility of life.
Willie was the youngest child of divorced parents who loved him dearly. His brothers and sister played an important role in his upbringing and his mother and father continued to be an important part of his life since they both didn’t stray far from Road Creek.

He attended his first four years of school on Road Creek in a little one-room schoolhouse where he learned how to read, one of his favorite hobbies. Later he moved to Marrowbone Bottom, where Rachel ran a country store and spent sunny days fishing on the banks of the Russell Fork.

Willie attended Elkhorn City School until he graduated in 1960. During his time there, he was profoundly touched by the influence of special teachers and an encouraging coach. Katherine Mullins, his English teacher, Eva Powell, his guidance counselor, and Monk Mullins, his baseball coach. He loved playing baseball and would hitchhike from Marrowbone Bottom to Elkhorn for practices and games. Mrs. Mullins inspired him with her reading and writing assignments and encouraged him to polish his skills to perfection. And since he showed remarkable talent in these skills, Mrs. Powell took him under her wing and encouraged him to go to college.

He attended Pikeville College from 1960 to 1962 until his money ran out. He took a summer job in Chicago, Illinois at Rollins Television Factory to make money to pay for tuition. Soon, he returned to Pike County and took a teaching job in a one-room schoolhouse on Buffalo Creek in Floyd County. He taught first through eighth grade, where he had to report on Sunday night to prepare for school on Monday. One of the duties he particularly dreaded was shoveling coal to heat the schoolhouse. He showed up faithfully each Sunday, hauled coal, and made sure the schoolhouse was warmed when his students arrived on Monday morning. Though he never showed his frustration at this task, his adoring students and even the eighth-grade ruffian boys, realized his dedication to them, and later when he arrived on Sunday nights he found the chore already done for him. He finished teaching the boys and girls that year, having saved up enough money for tuition, and then returned to college where he graduated with a double degree in English and Political Science.

During this time, he met and married Carolyn Sue Martin of Beckley, West Virginia. They married in July of 1965, and August moved to Orlando, Florida where he accepted a teaching position at Union Park Elementary. He taught seventh-grade English, but he found the Florida heat less inviting than the fresh mountain air, so when his former mentor Eva Powell called offering him a teaching position at Elkhorn City High, he jumped at the chance, since he and Carolyn were expecting their first child, Jon, in November of 1966. He returned and happily taught English for six years. Several former students still remark on the impact of his teaching, fondly reflecting on how he used to read to them and the special patience he had with them.

By 1968, he and Carolyn had added a daughter, Dawn, and by 1977, another son, William, would complete their family. And with the responsibilities of a growing family, he set out on a new career. He began working for the federal government, first for the Social Security Administration, and later for The Department of Labor, retiring after 30 years of public service, rising to a position of regional director. Throughout this time, he worked to help improve his community through his involvement with several organizations including his service on the Pike County Library Board, where he hoped his service would enrich the lives of others in Pike County.

Throughout his retirement, Willie rekindled his love for hobbies outside of work such as fishing for trout in the Clinch River with his cousin Cliff, golfing with Carolyn and his buddies at Willowbrook, nature walks observing the beauty of the place he called home all his life with Joe Bart, and spending time with his friends and growing family that now included grandchildren. With Carolyn’s encouragement, they also established a residence in South Carolina for more than 20 years, where they welcomed friends and family alike who would visit often, sometimes too often (Dawn).

As he grew older, his love for the simple things in life was only enriched by his time in nature. He became a bird-watching enthusiast, often naming bird species by name on a whim. He enjoyed feeding them in his numerous bird feeders. He loved gardening and would often offer his table garden bounty to his numerous visitors. Though not a fan of the hot Orlando sun, he found the cool breeze and saltwater of the Carolina coast soothing and that is where he retreated with Carolyn and family often. He also loved watching sports, trading stocks, and reading a great book.

Throughout his life, Willie touched the lives of many with his enduring love, charming spirit, and boundless generosity. Whether through his professional endeavors, community involvement, or personal relationships, he left an enduring mark that will continue to inspire and uplift those who follow in his footsteps.

Willie’s legacy extends beyond the tangible, as his children, grandchildren, and friends attest to weaving a tapestry of memories that will be cherished by all who had the privilege of sharing in his life. He will be remembered for countless moments of laughter, wisdom, and shared experiences that defined his time on this earth.
In this time of profound loss, let us come together to celebrate Willie Ray’s remarkable journey and honor the legacy he leaves behind. May we find comfort in the knowledge that his spirit lives on in the hearts of those who were touched by his humanity, and may we draw strength from his lessons of love and generosity.

Willie is preceded in death by his mother Rachel Justice, his father John Looney, two brothers Junice and Joeseph Looney, one sister Gertrude Stalker, a nephew Randy Looney, a great-nephew John Allen Williamson, and his great-niece Traci Ratliff.

Willie is survived by his wife of almost sixty years, Carolyn, his son Jon Walter, daughter-in-law Tiffany, granddaughter Katie, and two grandsons Kendall and Clark, his daughter Dawn Elizabeth McNew, son-in-law Craig, and two grandsons Grant and Jackson, his son William Ashley, and two grandsons Brody and Ashton, special daughter in love, Angela Runyon. His sister-in-law Elizabeth “Kay” Bowling and husband Doug, brother-in-law Walter “Eddie” Martin and wife Judy, his beloved nieces and nephews Clyde Stalker (Jennie), Patricia Slone (Mike), Sandra Williamson (John), Jeffery Ratliff (Randy), Lucille Potter, Michelle Schell (Jim), Sherry Coffey, Danny Looney, Cindy Ashby (Michael), Heather Justice (Danny), Angela Walker and Martin Walker (Windy).

Celebration-of-Life will be held in the Bailey Funeral Home Chapel from 6:00 PM-10:00 PM on Sunday, Jan. 7, 2024, with a service at 7:00 PM with Jimmy Dale Sanders officiating.

Written by Carolyn Looney and Family

UMWA Miners (Update)

 I discovered a much better copy of the UMWA Miners photo I posted a few years ago.

(Click on the photo to view it in Full Size in a new window.)

More UMWA Miners

 Here is another photo of a UMWA gathering at the Fish Ponds on Elkhorn Creek.  There are a couple of familiar faces in this one...

Clyde