Moms are something else. Mine sure was. As a little tike, I was always near mom, tugging on her leg or at least leaning up against her. I didn’t move too far without her. The Great Protector. She loved me like nobody else.

As I grew a little older, I can remember going with her to Parson’s Department Store. She’d drop me off on the mezzanine where I found a world of books – specifically a category of sports books. I’d flip through the pages and narrow it down to two or three books and then she’d always buy me one. It was tough sometimes to make that final call, but I did it. Mom didn’t care if it was a sports book I was reading because, well, I was reading. Being an avid reader herself, that’s what she wanted anyway. Mothers are sneaky that way.

She always wanted what was best for me and my brother and if that meant she was sacrificing something, well, then that’s how it would be. My brother and I never wanted for anything. My parents were Christian role models for us, too. For all my growing up years, she was either on the piano or organ at Oakland Avenue Baptist Church, making beautiful church music and putting in hours and hours of practice at our house. It was her ministry and she loved it and it worked well with my father too, who may have the record for being the longest-acting “interim music director” in church history. He never wanted to take on the title full-time even though he led music for decades.

Church music was a big part of their lives and one of the joys of their experience in worship. Ask anybody about either one of them and church music will surely come up in the conversation. With mom, she will always be remembered as the receptionist at the Ashland Oil R&E Building. Salesman would come and have to wait and she’d carry on long conversations with them. The next time they showed up, she remembered their names, the names of their children and everything they were doing. She was amazing. She may well have been the kindest receptionist in Ashland Oil history. Mom was a sharp person with a friendly personality that made everybody comfortable. She had the gift of hospitality in that business setting.

Mom would tell you she didn’t have a happy childhood, but she  made sure her sons could never say that. Our stockings were always full along with (too?) many presents under the Christmas tree. She loved Christmas because she loved giving. Mom wanted to make people happy, make them smile, make their day. She also loved my father with all her heart. Their love story would rock anybody’s world. They were both giving people who had a heart for others, along with each other. I’ve heard stories of times when they taught Sunday School at Second Baptist Church that would melt your heart, how they gave and gave to make others lives easier.

When my grandfather (mom’s father) was in the nursing home, every Christmas Mom would gather up perfume, lipstick and other items and individually wrap them up so we could pass them out to the residents. It must have taken her hours. Those residents unwrapped those packages and smiles and squeals were the result. Mom just flashed her beautiful smile back at them.

Of course, she also had to keep my filthy uniforms clean and take me to practice. I can remember after Junior Football League practice one day we gave one of my teammates a ride home but first stopped at McDonald’s. They paid for everything and made sure my teammate had enough to eat, even asking if he wanted to take something home. I learned later they did more than pay for his meal. His family had some needs and so did he. They met those needs without attention.

There are a million other instances of her generosity and her spirit of service to the church and love to our family and community. Her grandchildren enjoyed a bounty fit for kings and queens. She showered them with gifts and with love. When they came along, they were her pride and joy – and could do no wrong in her eyes even if they were caught doing wrong in ours.

Mom had her own weaknesses, like we all do. She loved purchasing dolls, many of them collectables, but never knew when to stop. It became an addictive habit. So if you’re looking for a doll … we have them.

Mom died on Wednesday afternoon about 12:15, her kind and sweet heart stopped beating for the last time. She was 90, about two months shy of being 91, but you wouldn’t have known it by looking at her. Her skin was still so pretty, so smooth. How can anyone be 90 years old and not have wrinkles? She was a beautiful woman, inside and outside, always. The nurses at the hospice center noticed. One of them had to do a double-check the charts when they saw her. “Is she 90 years old?” she asked. “I thought I was in the wrong room and somebody had written something down wrong.”

Mom spent two days in hospice and our family is thankful for the care she received. Our community is lucky to have this hospice center that respects everyone, the dying and the living with the dignity that everyone deserves. God bless them all.

Her passing wasn’t unexpected. Mom has been dealing with breast cancer for at least three years and has spent the past 18 months in our home. My wife, who retired from teaching after 37 years, found the calling of caretaker. Mom called her “my nurse.” Beth never claimed to be a nurse but her care for my mother would push her toward super-nurse status in my family’s opinion. She changed dressings every four days, sometimes in the middle of the night, and showed her grace when she needed it or honesty when it was warranted.

Mom loved her daughters-in-law because she knew those women loved her sons. That was most important to her. She wanted us happy and knew a meddlesome mother-in-law would interrupt that goal.

Mom was a good mother-in-law who didn’t interfere. She was so helpful, especially to me and Beth, because we lived close. They went on vacations with us when the kids were young and mom always stayed behind at the hotel to hang with the kids so we could go out and eat or relax on the beach. There was nothing she liked more than being with her grandkids and spoiling the daylights out of them.

(I may have learned how to do that from her).

In whatever accomplishments that came my way in life, my mother was always the proudest person in the room. She was proud of my brother, too. Her boys made her tingle inside. They could do no wrong in her eyes (unless we were disciplining the grandchildren).

She was a good, good mother and I’m sad that her life has come to an end. But the reunion with my father, her other daughter-in-law and many of her other relatives and church friends that went before her had to be something else. I’m sure they brushed off the piano bench for her. She probably hasn’t stopped playing and singing yet.

And you know what, face to face with Jesus ain’t a bad place to be.

Charlie Scott learned how to play basketball in the School of Hard Knocks on the concrete courts in Central Park.

He had more than a few skinned knees and elbows but there were lessons he took with him on the organized basketball courts later. “Bill Bradley would come out there in his Converse and just put it on us,” he said. “Dirtiest player I ever played against.”

Bradley would consider being called the “dirtiest player” that Scott ever matched up against a great compliment.

Smart, dirty, you get the idea. Bradley may even call it “crafty” and his 37 years of running the CLEM extravaganza in his backyard court says everything you need to know about his love for outdoor basketball.

Many of the greatest teams and players in area history cut their teeth on summer basketball games at Southside Pool, Dreamland Pool and Central Park. Teams at Southside and Dreamland would stay up until somebody beat them. Some of the best Tomcat teams from the 1950s through the 1980s sharpened their skills and teamwork abilities at the pools and the park.

Scott said he’d like to see some high school players put together teams for the league and learn like he did – from some hard knocks of older players who knew their way around a concrete court and knew how to put the young guys on their butts.

“We’re missing that toughness and this brings that out in players,” Scott said. “I just want to do something that makes me smile, to help basketball be where it should be in Ashland.”

Scott’s dream is to bring the Central Park courts alive again with an adult basketball league named Yo Momma Basketball. It’s for male and female, high school age and up. The league has a start date of June 18 and goes through August 11. They will play games every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday at 6, 7 and 8 p.m. Teams will play three games per week and they will be officiated. There will be a postseason tournament with the winning team getting individual trophies, championship t-shirts and a return of the entry fee.

Cost is $500 per team but some simple math shows that a 10-man team pays only $50 per person. Each player receives a t-shirt and is in the running for the league Most Valuable Player award.

The league has been approved by the Central Park board and Scott is promising a good time with games being played and music blaring from the courts near Central Avenue. He’s passionate about making it work enough to even dress up like “Yo Momma” for some promotional photographs and videos.

It could be a business would like to sponsor a team for the summer. Teams are guaranteed three games a week through the eight-week season. That means 24 games per team. Learn more by calling Charlie at (606) 585-4029.

ASHLAND, Ky.  – Thirty-seven is enough for No. 37.

Jody Hamilton, who has to be in the conversation as the greatest high school baseball coach in Kentucky history, told his players at West Jessamine High School on Sunday night that this will be his last season. The Colts begin 12^th Region tournament play on Monday.

Hamilton, who two years ago was the National High School Athletic Coaches Association’s Coach of the Year and has won state championships at Boyd County in 2001 and West Jessamine in 2015, notched his 938^th career victory when West Jessamine defeated East Jessamine 3-2 to win the 46^th District title for the seventh year in a row last week.

The Colts are 22-10 and have won seven games in a row, peaking at the right time in typical fashion of Hamilton’s teams. They play Rockcastle County in the regional tournament opener

Hamilton, who has worn No. 37 throughout his playing and coaching careers, cracked into coaching at Raceland, where he endured his only losing season. The Rams were 13-15 in 1986 while playing every single game on the road. Raceland won the district crown in ’86, anyway, and was the home team on the scoreboard for the first time — in 28 total games — in the opening round of the 16th Region Tournament.

Hamilton moved to Boyd County and captured his first of 11 region championship trophies with the Lions in 1988, taking them to the state championship game. Casey Hamilton, Jody’s son, helped bring Boyd County to a state title in 2001. The coach has been at West Jessamine since 2004. The Colts have collected four region crowns (2008, ’10, ’15, ’16) under his leadership.

Winning the state championship and getting attention from college recruiters for his players was always the goal for Hamilton, who  estimated 70 percent of the seniors who played for him found themselves on college rosters.

A 1976 graduate of Ashland, Hamilton enjoyed a tremendous career at Morehead State University that included winning the Ohio Valley Conference Triple Crown before playing for the minor-league Paintsville Yankees. He was with the Yankees on the night that Darryl Strawberry made his professional debut with the Kingsport Mets in Paintsville, Ky. Despite hitting better than .300 for the Yankees, he felt the calling to coach and the rest, as they say, is history.

Hamilton elevated not only the way baseball was played in the 16th Region but brought it to a level the area hadn’t seen since Ashland dominated in the 1960s. He also was responsible for getting the Luther Craig Baseball Complex built at Boyd County with the help of Addington to become the envy of eastern Kentucky. Baseball fields began popping up throughout the region and Boyd County’s showplace was the reason why. As the places to play became special for other teams, the level of play began to rise too. It was either get better or get left behind because Hamilton was in it to win it every year.

His teams became known for excellence throughout the state and  hundreds of his players – and even many who played against him -went on to become college baseball players and later coaches on a number of different levels. Hamilton moved to the highly competitive 12th Region with West Jessamine, but continued to produce baseball that rivaled anybody in the state. He was the ultimate teacher of the game.

Jody Hamilton was among the inaugural selections into the Ashland Baseball CP-1 Hall of Fame in 2015.

By the way, 37 had another significant meaning for No. 37. He and wife Denise have been married for 37 years. They have two children, Casey and Neena, two grandsons and a granddaughter on the way. Jody and Denise also have a healthy bee farm they tend to in Jessamine County.