Kit Choate

Kit Choate

My grandfather, George Christopher Choate, known far and wide as "Kit", lived from March 15, 1911 to February 8, 1984.  He was born in Jamestown, Fentress County, Tennessee, and did in Liberty, Casey County, Kentucky.  He was a WWII vet, 32nd degree Mason, honorary Kentucky Colonel, proud husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.  He and his wife Dorothy Bell Allen Choate married in the early 1930's.  In fact they eloped on a mule borrowed from her uncle.

He and Dorothy had eight children, one of which (William) did not make it past infancy.  After the war he often traveled throughout Kentucky and Indiana, seeking work to supplement the little income that came from the family farm.

He loved to hunt and fish.  When I visited in the summer, he would always take time to take me fishing.  I remember helping him to skin many a rabbit, also.  My father started teaching me to shoot at three or four, but grandpa would always take time to shoot with me during my visits.

He had a wood shop beside the house where he would make furniture, billy clubs, and toys for the grand-kids.  He made very nice chairs and benches for the front porch, dressers for the bedroom, and just about anything else he wanted.

Grandpa was very good to me, but he was strict also.  I only remember two spankings from him.  The first he laughed about for years.  When I was about three, we were at Chestnut Grove Baptist Church, and Mom (June Miller Choate) was asked to sing.  Well I was surrounded by many I did not know and was crying when Mom went up front.  Grandpa took me outside, but I refused to settle down.  He took my out to a tobacco field and spanked me.  I settled down, and he asked if I was going to be good.  My response was, "Yes, but when I grow up, I'm going to beat you up!"  He loved to tell that story.

Grandpa Choate had to use a cane, due to a bad hip.  He walked with a limp, but let me tell you he could be mean with that cane.  He went out to milk the cow one evening and the bull tried to get mean with him.  He hit that bull with his cane so hard, he knocked a horn off.  It left him alone, thereafter. 

When my great-grandpa "Boy" Allen died there was a probate hearing.  During the proceedings one of Grandma's half brothers got on the stand and started to say many derogatory things about both my grandmother and her full siblings.  Grandpa listened to him talk about Grandma for a while, then stood up and left the courtroom.

He sat on one of the benches in front of the courthouse, not saying a word.  One of his many friends stopped to talk, but Grandpa was not very responsive.  The brother-in-law who had slandered my grandmother came out of the courthouse.  Grandpa stood up and went toward the courthouse as fast as his bad hip would allow.  His buddy kept up beside him, asking "Kit, what's going on?"

Finally Grandpa looked over and said he was going to teach him a lesson in manners.  

The object of his ire looked over and saw Grandpa coming.  They say he turned white and took off running.  Two men held grandpa until the other was gone.  They didn't want him to get into trouble.  Grandpa, Dad, and my uncles all looked for the offending individual, but he did not return to the area for a couple of years.

I was stationed in Okinawa, Japan when I got the news that he was in the hospital, and probably would not make it.  I took the first available flight back to the States.  When I got to the hospital, in Lexington, he was lying in a coma.  There I stood a twenty-four year old, grown man, in the military, with tears streaming down my face.

I was holding his hand and told him that as soon as he got out of the hospital, I would take leave so that we could go fishing, again.  At that point he squeezed my hand.  I know they say people in a coma can't understand you, but I believe he did.

A couple of nights later, I had a dream.  It was very vivid.  Grandpa came to me and told me I could stop worrying, that he was ok, now.  I woke up and hurried into the living room, telling everyone of my dream, and I knew Grandpa was going to be, alright.

Dad looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, but he died last night."  At that moment I was crushed.  As I look back, I truly believe it was Grandpa letting me know he WAS alright. 

It has been close to thirty years since he died, but I still miss him.  I hope someday we can go fishing again.