All I Know About Cussin'

I got the most important part of my education growing up in rural Logan County Kentucky. Even as a little boy I could proudly tell strangers that I lived in the fork between the Coopertown Road and the Lewisburg Road. If they didn't understand I told them I lived at the beginning of Brady's Stretch coming out of Russellville.

I loved where I lived. I enjoyed our small farm, and I enjoyed the country folks that stopped to shop or loaf at my dad's store. Everybody knew Victor Brady; at least that's what I thought back in the fifties. My daddy worked hard running his store and doing a little farming. Therefore, it was mostly my mother, Louise, who instilled in me the difference between right and wrong. One of the first things I learned from her was that I should never drink beer or whiskey. I was certain that if I ever took a swig of whiskey or drank a can of beer I would go to hell. Another lesson I learned that was repeatedly drilled into my head has to do with the pool hall. Any time we drove by the pool hall in Russellville my mother would say, "John Paul! I had better never hear that you've been in that pool hall!" She said that with such conviction that I thought maybe I had already done something in which I needed to ask forgiveness. The third big moral "no no" that mom taught concerned the words that should never come out of my mouth. These were cuss words. The more correct way to refer to bad words in rural Logan County was "cussin".

Developing my cussin vocabulary took time. My mother never gave me a list of words I shouldn't say. That's where some of the country folk helped tremendously. In the winter farmers would come to the store to sit in front of the fire place to talk, play cards or checkers. I guess most of my cussin vocabulary was learned hanging around listening to the many stories that were told, and the occasional argument that resulted over a card game. Nobody had to tell me, "Now, that's a cuss word." I automatically surmised that I must never say certain words I heard from some of those farmers. One word I was never sure about though was the word "darn". I never said it just in case it was a cuss word

I also learned to tell the difference between the "really good" Christians, and those whose vocabulary was worthy of a good lye soap mouth washin'. They just needed to put a stop to all their cussin. A good Christian would respond when something went wrong with words or phrases like, "Dat nabit, Oh shoot or shoot fire, heck, dat blast it," and many others that bordered on cussin, but stopped just short, like "Well I'll be a...". Women in north Logan had words and phrases they used to avoid cussin, "Well glory be!" "Mercy me!" "Bless my soul!" "Oh lawdy!" If they were really upset they might add about three more lawdy's.

I got the best education a boy could get watching and listening to the good country folks who lived in rural Logan County. Since my parents are gone I don't get back there very often. I really do miss my Logan County home. I still have imbedded within me the warm pleasant memories of those wonderful people who taught me how to live by showing me what is really important in life. I learned that even though a person might do a little cussin or sip some whiskey every now and then they were special folk and God loved everyone of them. Country folks in rural Logan loved each other and took care of each other. Something we definitely need more of in our world today.