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Kenneth John Poorman . . . 1914 - 1972 . . . my
Dad
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| Kenneth John Poorman (1941) |
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This is very difficult for me,
creating this page. Going through Dad's "Abiding Memories" book. Recalling all of the wonderful people
who came to pay their respects, sent flowers, cards, and food. I hope Dad knows how much I love him. Kenny Dick,
2010
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Yost Funeral Home
Lock Haven, Pa.
December 7, 1972 Rev. Art Collier, Officiating
First Church of Christ Bearers
Calvin Galbraith
Chalmer Temple
Clyde
Poorman, Jr.
Billy Lee Yost
Harry Gruver
Charles Hanes Interment
Hall-Wertz Cemetery
Halls Run, Pa.
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I don’t know where to begin.
I haven’t planned this out. I guess it’s going to be like a very late eulogy, and probably
not one worthy of Dad. Dad liked being a fire fighter in his younger days. He talked
about it a little when I was very young. He used to take me to the Citizens Hose Company occasionally,
where he would talk with the driver who lived there, and let me climb on the fire truck, and play with the pool tables upstairs.
Every year he took me there to help set up for the annual festival. I liked the fish pond, and the
cake wheel best. Then we would go back to tear down after the festival was over. He
used to take me to the Hope Hose and Handies festivals too.
He stopped at his Mom’s nearly
every day, so I was very close with my Gram. And when I became a teenager, and could walk over town, I
stayed at Gram’s a lot. I liked talking with her, and helping her make noodles and pot pie, and getting
stuff out of the garden for her. I remember the first time I drove over town to her house when I was 12
years old. She was surprised when I walked in without Dad. I remember Dad telling me
to drive up the “Crik Road”, and to pull over if the cops spotted me.
From as early as I can remember, Dad
and Mom took me to Brickley’s Ice Cream Plant every week. When I was old enough, we used to sing
harmony to down by the old mill stream. I stood on the front seat between them. Seat
belts – not even invented. That’s all for now. This is too difficult. I'll come back to add stuff about the paper mill, hunting, family
fun stuff . . .
OK, the paper mill. Here's a photo
that Dad first showed me when I was a teenager, maybe around 1955? He said the photographer at the local paper brought
him a couple copies after a photo shoot at the Castanea mill. He said he hung a copy in the office, and I
found a copy in his papers after he died. He wrote the names on the reverse. I think Bill Holland was on
this crew too for a while before he became a teacher.
  Back again. Dad used to take me to the paper mill when I was little. I
remember the first time the guys he worked with threw me down the broke hole to the basement below, and I thought I was
going to die, trying to dig my way out of about 15 or 20 feet of broke over me. After that first or sevond time though,
it was sort of fun. He took me deer hunting out the Coudersport Pike, and over in Centre County near the Rockview
Pennitentiary. I wouldn't do that again now. I take my granddaughters through Valley Forge Park to see and enjoy
the deer. He also took me fishing occasioally, up Pine Creek, but I didn't really like fishing much. We went deep
sea fishing a couple times with Fred Graff our of Stone Harbour. That was enjoyable, smelling the chum bait laying in
the hot sun, everyone puking over the side - just to catch a few porgies and sea bass. Ha. I'm surprised that
after that I even went into the Navy. Dad belonged to a gun club, and he took me along to shoot a lot. We enjoyed
that. I qualified M1 easily at the Navy rifle range when I went to boot camp. Mom was a good shot too. I
remember when Dad wrecked my motorcycle when I was in the Navy, down on the Youngdale Road, the "back road" we called
it. He got banged up a little, but by the time I got home from wherever I was, he had the bike all fixed up. I
remember him waiting to die after his frst heart attack at age 55. Now that I had a heart attack and two surgeries last
summer, I think I know how he must have felt. Especially when you have kids to raise, I guess you're just you're not
ready to go. He drove for a lot of funerals in those 3 years he waited - and now I find myself going to a lot of funerals.
1/20/2011.
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Pearl Madeline Hall Poorman . . . 1913 - 1976
. . . my Mom
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Well, I'm back. About Mom. I think about her a lot.
She died about 35 years ago, and I think of her daily. I have photos of Mom and Dad upstairs and down - I pray for them
a lot. What I remember most vividly, is her giving me hell once when I was a Senior in High School - and saying
"Kenny Poorman, some day you will get yours." Now I don't want to tell anyone what that was about (I would
tell my brother, Steve), but I am now raising two wonderful granddaughters, and I think of her words often, and look up and
see her reveling in her admoinition to me. Ha. You were right Mom. This is a tough gig at my age.
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Here's a little motto our Mom lived by, and recommended
to us . . . Don't look for the flaws,
as you go through life . . .
And even tho you find them,
Be wise and kind,
and somewhat blind . .
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And look for the virtues behind them.
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