We COKONOUGHER Hardheads !: March 2017

CECIL L. COKONOUGHER OBITUARY
GREENFIELD - Cecil Lloyd Cokonougher, 49, of Lyndon, Route 1, died at 8 p.m. Thursday at his residence. He was born April 19, 1917 in Ross County to John and Amelia Miller Cokonougher and was never married. A member of the VFW Post in Chillicothe, Mr. Cokonougher was a veteran of World War II and had served overseas. Surviving are three brothers, John Jr. of Chillicothe, Route 3, Howard and Herbert, both of Lyndon, Route 1, and a sister, Mrs. Melvin Barnhart of Greenfield. The funeral will be at 2 p.m. Sunday at the Murray Funeral Home here with the Rev. Harold Braley officiating. Burial will be in South Salem cemetery. Friends may call at the funeral home after 2 p.m. Saturday. (Obituary from a local newspaper and the funeral home. My biography and more pictures continue after the following two pictures.)

                                                           Biography
       Cecil was my uncle. He was a big, tall man, with an imposing figure, and was both sociable and personable. He was intelligent, and had continued to self-educate himself after he finished high school. Cecil was kind and generous, but, at the same time, he spoke his mind, and nobody dared mess with him. He never married, and he died a bachelor. I never heard of him even dating. My father did mention once that he thought Cecil had fallen in love with an Italian girl when he had been stationed in Italy during World War II, but the relationship had failed, and, to his knowledge, Cecil had never pursued a woman again.
       While he was serving his country in the Army in Italy, Cecil was wounded in the hip by enemy shrapnel. He recovered from his wound, but the injury was severe enough that he was awarded a very small disabled veteran's monthly benefit for the rest of his life. Cecil served as a truck driver.
       Cecil was very well known in the community through his various roles as a family member, farmer, veteran, proud Democrat, election poll worker, and mailman. His reputation in the community was of the highest. I never knew of anyone during his lifetime to say anything other than good things about him. From my personal perspective, Cecil proved his good character to me several times.
       In Cecil's day, neighbors helped each other with their farm work. One summer, Cecil, and my father, our neighbors the Comers, and I were helping another neighbor by the name of Sherman put up his hay. I was only 15 or 16 years old at the time. To my surprise, my father and Cecil decided to have me drive Cecil's Ford tractor. They told me to get up on the tractor, put it into gear, and drive it up Mr. Sherman's driveway. Unfortunately, they forgot that I had never been on a tractor before, and didn't know a gear shift from a clutch pedal. Despite my protestations that I didn't know how to drive a tractor, my father told me to "just go ahead and do it!" I moved the gear shift into place and the tractor moved. It moved straight backwards in full reverse, with the left rear wheel first hitting Mr. Sherman's mailbox post and then crushing his brand new, showy $50.00 mailbox flatter than a pancake. For a moment, we were all in shock. The mailbox that I had flattened was not an ordinary $2.00 mailbox, but instead was probably the most expensive high-tone mailbox in the area. Nobody said much to me, they just got me off the tractor and went back to work. I expected to pay for the mailbox out of my future earnings, but my uncle Cecil took responsibility for the incident and paid Mr. Sherman for the mailbox out of his own pocket. He said he considered the incident as much his fault as anybody's, because he shouldn't have let me be put on the tractor without his first making sure I knew how to drive it. I admired him for that. I think that somewhere in his background, he too had probably been placed as a youngster into a position where he had to do something for which he hadn't been properly prepared. He understood. And by the way, Mr. Sherman must have learned a lesson and a little bit of humility from the incident too, because his next mailbox was an ordinary $2.00 mailbox, just like everybody else had.
       A few years later, when I was a senior in high school, my social studies teacher required every student to read a weekly national news magazine to learn about government and current events. My parents were poor, and we couldn't afford a subscription to a magazine. We also lived so far out in the country that it was impossible to get the magazine in a timely manner from the library. To compensate, Cecil generously delivered his news magazine subscription to me every week before he even looked at the magazine himself so that I could do my homework. He knew that my parents couldn't afford to buy me a subscription so he helped me out as best as he could by letting me use his subscription. With the help of his contribution, I not only passed the course, but I got an "A" too.
       Perhaps the most significant example of Cecil's character occurred when he helped me get a college scholarship. A local couple had endowed my high school with a college scholarship fund, with the proceeds to be given to one or more financially challenged high school graduates of good character and good grades. The scholarship was intended for financially poor students who otherwise would have had a hard time paying for college. The school board was charged with deciding who would get the scholarships. I applied for one of the scholarships, and received enough money to pay my tuition through the first year of college. Several years passed before I found out that the school board had been reluctant to give me the scholarship, and had even considered turning me down because they thought it would be a waste of money to give a scholarship to someone whose family was too poor to help him finish college after the scholarship money ran out. They wanted to give the scholarship to a student whose family had more money than mine did. In other words, they thought I was too poor to receive a scholarship that was intended for the poor. It was just another example of those with money looking down upon, and thinking they were better than, those without money. Cecil knew a couple of the people on the school board, and when he heard what was happening, he raised holy hell, and then declared that the board didn't need to worry about his nephew, because he would personally, one way or another, see that I had enough money to finish college. Those who knew my uncle knew that when he said something, he meant it. You could depend on him to keep his word. So, with his influence, promise, and character reference, the board decided to take a chance on me. I was granted the scholarship. My uncle Cecil died before I finished college, and I never needed his money to put myself through college, but I am happy to say that I fulfilled his faith in me. I did finish college, just as he expected. However, without his support, and without his confidence in me, it would have been a much harder struggle to do so.
       Cecil was a farmer his whole life, except for the time he served in the military. He was raised as a farmer on his father and mother's farm, and continued to farm rented cropland after he came home from the war, until his parents' deaths in 1962, when he bought their farm for himself. He never lived anywhere else other than his own family's farm in his entire lifetime, that I know of, except for his time in the service. In his later years, Cecil supplemented his farm income by working a full time job as a rural mail carrier for the United States Postal Service. He wore out several automobiles and had many fender benders while he delivered mail to every mailbox in the community for miles around. He drove so many miles and pulled in and out of so many mailbox stops on his job that it was statistically impossible not to occasionally be hit by other passing cars.
       Cecil died young. He was only 49 when he died. Until the time of his death, he had no significant health problems.
       Just before Cecil died on a beautiful autumn evening, Ralph Clyburn, who was the local undertaker and ambulance driver, and Cecil's friend, received a call from Cecil. Cecil told him, "I'm sick. I need you to come in your ambulance and get me." Ralph replied that he would be right there. About 20 to 30 minutes later, he pulled up to Cecil's house and saw Cecil sitting outside, on the steps of the front porch. Cecil looked normal. Ralph supposed that he had come out to wait for him, and hoped that the call had been a false alarm. The truth became obvious though when Ralph walked up to Cecil. Despite looking natural, Cecil was dead. He had suffered a fatal aneurysm and had unknowingly called his own undertaker.
       Cecil's passing left a farm and an estate that was appraised at $29,213, a considerable sum at that time for the area of the country in which he lived. We buried Cecil in the cemetery at South Salem, Ohio, next to his mother and father. His grave is located at 39.336461 Latitude and -83.311366 Longitude.
        The story of Cecil's life does not stop after his death. His family farm was sold at public auction in order to settle his estate. My father Bill, who was Cecil's brother, and my aunt Geraldine, Cecil's sister, wanted to go together to buy the farm to keep it in the family. They obtained bank loans and intended on using their share of Cecil's estate for a down payment. Unfortunately, the farm sold for more than my father thought that he could safely invest. A timber man, who just wanted to cut the trees that our family had so tenderly preserved for over six decades and then resell the land for as much as he could get, purchased the farm instead. After the farm sold, Bill fretted and worried about losing the family farm. He knew that no matter how high he would have bid on the farm, the timber cutter would have outbid him anyway, but he still blamed himself for losing the family farm that he had for so long held so dear.   Bill lost many a night's sleep worrying about what he thought he should have, or could have done, to save the family farm.
     Somewhere in a world beyond this one, for those who give some credence to the supernatural, Cecil's spirit must have been concerned too, except that he was more concerned about his brother than the farm. As a result, Bill awoke one night, after several sleepless hours of tossing and turning, to find his dead brother, Cecil, sitting on the foot of his bed. Bill was never sure whether he had been half-dreaming and saw something real or whether he had been having a ghostly vision, but nevertheless, there his deceased brother was, sitting at the end of his bed.
     Cecil spoke, "Stop worrying about that farm", he said, "and get on with your life. It ain't nothing but a pile of rocks anyhow." And then he disappeared.
     Cecil's ghostly visit made Bill feel better. He never did feel good about losing his family's farm, but he finally reached a point, with the help of Cecil's ghost, where he could accept what had happened, and where he could stop worrying himself sick. And Cecil's spirit never made another appearance.
                                                                                                Ralph Cokonougher

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The following letter was sent from Cecil to a childhood friend while Cecil was overseas during the second world war:
                                                                                                                " 5 Sept. 1943
                                                                                                            P.F.C. Cecil L. Cokonougher
                                                                                                            Hqs. Btry. 185th F.A. Bn.
                                                                                                            A.P.O. 34, N.Y.City
Mrs. Norvel Royse
805 Purcell Ave.
Cincinnati, Ohio
                                   Some-where in North Africa
Dear Friends
I will write you a few lines this evening to say hello. I am feeling fine and still getting along alright. I hope you are all well and O.K.
I received your letter quite a while ago, but I just never seem to get around to writing. You know how it is I guess. I hope Pearl is making it alright and tell him I said hello. Tell Dean and Alice I 2 said hello. I sure would like to see all of you. Its been a long time since I saw anyone I know at home. Pearl was the last one and that was quite a long time ago.
Yes I got that letter from Bessie but we had a little war to attend to at that time, so I didn't get it answered. But I have written since.
You all must be doing a good job on your work because that stuff you are all making is doing a good job for us. It is showing Hitler what a nation like ours can do and you don't just know what a swell place our country is till you see the rest of the world and have to stay away from your own country.
Well you know we over here are wondering just how long it will be before we can get home and hoping it won't be too long. Well I'll have to say so-long to all of you now.
                                                                                                                            Your friend
                                                                                                                            Cecil Cok."

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       The following letter was also sent from Cecil to a childhood friend while Cecil was overseas during World War II:                                                                                              23 Jan 1944
                                                                                                                 P.F.C. Cecil Cokonougher
                                                                                                                Hqs. Btry. 185th F.A. Bn.
                                                                                                                 A.P.O. 34, c/o P.M.
                                                                                                                N.Y. City
Mrs. Margaret Royse
805 Purcell Ave.
Cincinnati, Ohio
                                           Some-where in

Italy

Dear Friends,
I will write you a few lines this evening to say hello. I am writing this under a little different circumstances than usual. I am writing this in a bed in a hospital. I got wounded by a piece of German bomb shapnel a few weeks ago. It wasn't too bad and I am getting along fine. It hasn't never bothered me too much and I have got along fine. I sure have got a good rest in a soft bed with a mattress, springs, and sheets something I haven't had since I left the States. But I'll be O.K. and out before very long. I don't think there will be any trouble from it afterward.
Well it is wintery over here now as you probably know from the news. We had a lot of turkey Christmas and New Years. Well I hope you are all O.K. Tell everyone I said hello and write when ever you can. I'll try and answer too.
                                                                                  Your Friend As Ever
                                                                                   Cecil Cok.

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