ASHLAND — In one of the devotions I read Tuesday morning, the author talked about the many blessings he had received from his elders. As he shared his thoughts, I thought of the many elderly people who have touched my life in positive ways and of how much richer I am today because I took the time to listen to them.

As I spent time with the older adults in my life, I learned even those who did not have much formal education — my Grandma Reno only had a third grade education and I learned on my own that Grandpa Reno couldn’t read — were, in their own way, really smart. I mean I would never ask Grandpa Reno to help me with my homework, but he taught me how to make a corn shock and he tried to teach me how to coon hunt. He failed in that endeavor, but he at least took me coon hunting one night only to discover I didn’t have the heart for killing raccoons, or much of anything else for that matter.

For the first 14 years of my life, Uncle Harley, Grandma Cannon’s brother, lived in our basement. I admit Harley had some mental problems and never called any of us by our right names, but he was someone who could help me with my math. He had earned a college degree at a time in the early 20th century when most people did not even have high school diplomas. He would get a bit confused about other things, but he was still a wizard at math.

Harley was also the best storyteller I have ever known. He told with great gusto about how he was a hero who came to the rescue of my mother and two of my sisters when they were attacked while feeding the hogs. Mom says Harley was in the outhouse the entire time of the attack, and it was a neighbor who heard the cries of a young mother and her two small children from a half-mile away and came to their rescue.

However, Mom says Harley was the hero when another sister was badly injured when she fell while climbing a fence. Harley picked up the injured child and called for help. Harley never mentioned the time when he was the hero in helping my injured sister, but he kept embellishing this imaginary heroic acts during a time Mom and my sisters were attacked by the hogs even though he was on the can the entire time.

Harley remains the most unforgettable character I have ever known. My only regret is Harley was something of the black sheep of the family and my aunts and uncles —  and Grandma Cannon — would have little to do with him. That was their loss. Through the way she cared for Harley, Mom taught me the meaning of true, unselfish love, and I am a much, much better person because I was lucky enough to have Frank Harlan Barnes in my life.

Nona Stephenson always seemed really old to me when I was a boy, and she probably was

in her late 60s or early 70s. But Mrs. Stephenson changed my life. She was my private speech teacher in the days when speech therapy was not offered in the public schools. I had a severe stuttering problem and sounded so much like Elmer Fudd, to this day I do not find Elmer the least bit funny. Mrs. Stephenson taught me how to say phrases like “Tillie Titus taught her turtle titillating tales and tributes” without giving her a shower, and to say railroad tracks so it didn’t sound like “wailwoad twacks.”

I only knew Luther Beard for a brief time in the final year of his long life, but something happened during that time that really witnessed to me. Luther, who I think was head of one of the savings and loans in town, had a “spell” during which he was sure he was dying. But he did not die. In fact, he completely recovered.

Instead of praising God for his healing, Luther was disappointed. He had lived a long life and was ready to go home and live in eternity with his Lord and Savior. He knew the life he had waiting for him in glory was far better than his life here in Ashland. When my time comes, I hope I have the same attitude. When Luther did die, his funeral was a great celebration because he was finally where he wanted to be.

I am now spending as much time as I can with another elderly person: my mother, who will be 95 on Sept. 11. She now lives in a “memory unit” at a nice facility in Washington Court House, Ohio, and visiting her is not easy because the woman she is today is not the mother I know and love. My cousin, who is as close to Mom as anyone, says it is hard for him to visit her because he knows if Mom knew the way she was, she would be so embarrassed.

“Maybe so,” I told him. “But the good news is she doesn’t realize the way she is, and that’s a blessing.”

Like Luther was, Mom is ready to meet her maker, and while I selfishly want to hold on to her for as long as I can, I know if I were like she is today, I would not want to go on living.

Her doctor says all of Mom’s problems are mental. Physically, she is capable of living for many more years. If she does, I will continue to visit her even though I know that five minutes after I leave she will have no memory of my time with her. Each time I talk to her — even when our conversations don’t seem to make much sense —  I count it as a blessing. I love Mom but I sure do miss the mom I used to have.

JOHN CANNON can be reached at jcannon@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2649