Parker Aurora Doran

Parker Aurora DORAN, son of Joseph Andrew DORAN and Sophia Winifred "Winnie" MORGAN, was born on 2 Nov 1911 in San Jon, Quay Co, New Mexico, USA and died on 12 Oct 1964 in San Bernardino, San Bernardino Co, California, USA at age 52.

• He appeared on the 1930 Federal Census census on 5 Apr 1930 in Somerton, Yuma Co, Arizona, USA. See 1930 Census Report

• He is listed in the Social Security Death Index, Oct 1964.
Name:Parker Doran SSN:561-07-2312 Born:2 Nov 1911 Died:Oct 1964 State (Year) SSN issued:California (Before 1951 )

• He is listed in the California Death Index, Oct 1964.
Name: Parker A Doran Social Security #: 561072312 Sex: MALE Birth Date: 2 Nov 1912 Birthplace: New Mexico Death Date: 12 Oct 1964 Death Place: San Bernardino Mother's Maiden Name: Morgan

• He resided at Salem Oregon and is listed in the Salem city directory: 1971, Page 9; 1975, Page 474; 1977, Page 7; 1978, Page 7; 1985, Page 8

Parker married Elsie Elizabeth ENGLISH, daughter of Herbert Charles ENGLISH and Effie Pauline STOUT, on 19 Jun 1929 (Alternate marriage date: 31 May 1929) in Sweetwater, Nolan Co, Texas, USA. Elsie was born on 15 Mar 1912 in Hastings, , Nebraska, USA and died in Jan 1992 in Riverside, Riverside Co, California, USA at age 79. They had seven children: David Leo, Merle Eugene, Sophia Ruth Pauline, Robert Andrew, Joseph Charles, Cora Elizabeth "Betty," and Jesse Ray.

• Elsie was named after Sis Lohman of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and another nurse. Sis. Lohman lost her baby just before Elsie was born. She gave Effie her layette "all new and nice."

More on the English Family here

What if the Farmers Wife Comes?

David started working at the age of fourteen as a "hod carrier" for plasterers. The hod carrier had the responsibility of keeping the plasterers supplied with plaster or hod, this included both mixing it and carrying it to the plasters. It didn't take long for David to realize that he wanted to be a plasterer, not a hod carrier.

Many years later, in 1980, David and his sons Donald and Wm. David started their own construction company called Dave and Sons Building and Remodeling. They ran and ad in the newspaper and a few days later were contacted about a job. A contractor was building a dairy barn and wanted them to plaster it for him.

David had not plastered in many years, and Donald and Wm. David had never plastered, so they were all a little hesitant about taking the job. They decided to go ahead because they really were in need of work. So the adventure began.

One of the things that is needed for plaster to stick to a wooden wall is chicken wire. The barn was made of block but the eaves were made of wood. In this barn, as in all dairy barns, there was the room where they milked and then a room where all of the machines were. There was a gable on this room where the machines were. About twelve to sixteen inches from the gable was a rafter. The rafter being that close really complicated putting the chicken wire on the gable.
Donald got the job of putting the wire on the gable, so he climbed the ladder and tried to install the wire. He couldn't fit into the small area and still work. So, he climbed down the ladder and told David he couldn't do it. David decided it could be done if enough effort was put into it. He climbed the ladder, took a deep breath, sucked in his stomach and squeezed in between the rafter and the gable and started to install the chicken wire.

Now, like any good carpenter, David had on his carpenter apron. This apron help his tape measure, nails, punches, and other items of use. It probably weighed about ten to fifteen pounds. I don't know if you are getting the picture yet, but when David sucked in his stomach and squeezed between the rafter and the gable, the weight of his apron caused it to slide down around his ankles and much to his dismay, it took his pants right along with it.

So David is standing eight or ten feet up on a ladder with his carpenter apron and his pants down around his ankles. He is wedged in between the gable and the rafter, so moving down the ladder is not going to happen easily. Also, there are no glass in the windows and the farm house is close enough that you can see into the barn from the house and the farmers wife is home. In a panicked voice David says, "Boys, help me get my pants up!" However, both Donald and Wm. David are laughing so hard, at this time, they are unable to do anything.

It must have been about this time that David realized how embarrassing this could be if the farmers wife were to come out of the house at this very moment. The very next thing that he hollered was, "You boys help me right now! What if the farmers wife comes out and sees me?"
In all honesty, that was the wrong thing to say. As they got the picture their father painted for them in his desperation, both young men literally fell on the floor laughing and it was several moments before they were able to rescue their stranded father from the ladder. However, they were able to do so before the farmers wife saw him.

Things My Father Taught Me

Do you remember the things that your Dad taught you? I am talking about the important things, like, how to shoot a gun? Do you remember him teaching you how to cast that line into the right spot in the pool? Maybe you remember him teaching you how to throw that curve ball so that it would break just right and catch the batter off balance. How about teaching you how to tuck the football in after you had caught that over the middle pass, insuring that you didn’t fumble? Was it a behind the back dribble that your Dad taught you? How to sink a twenty foot putt, or even a one foot putt?

We all have things that we have learned from Dad. Things that make us remember those days that are past, “yester-years” with a fondness, maybe even a wistful smile. They remind of us of pleasant afternoons spent with Dad. They might even remind us of getting up early, before dawn, to go on hunting or fishing trips. Somehow those events are forever planted in our minds.

My father wasn’t much of a “sportsman.” When he was growing up during the “Depression” he worked more than he played. He couldn’t throw a baseball, he always said he threw like a girl and he really did. I don’t think he ever played a game of football in his life. I never saw him shoot a gun. I know he probably played some basketball, only because I have a picture of him, in Korea, poised to shoot a basket, but even then he is holding the ball awkwardly. He loved to fish, but we never caught anything when we went, truthfully. We only went camping about four times while I was growing up. He was an awesome sport, but not a sportsman. He loved for us to play ball but couldn’t teach us much about doing it.

My “special” memories of the things my Dad taught me have nothing to do with sports. They do, however, have a lot to do with the time he spent with us. During those times he was teaching us those things that were really important to life. He was planting perpetual seeds of value in our lives. I live today based on what my father taught me in those times spent with him.

I remember as a young child most of our Saturdays were spent visiting people. Most of these were people I didn’t know. Yet on a Saturday we would all pile into the car with a list of people to visit. Mom had a list of people she needed to see and Dad had a list of people he needed to see. We would stop at each house and they would get out of the car, go to the door and visit for a few moments. David, my brother, and I would stay in the car (I know you can’t do that today but in the ‘60’s it was alright.) Even today, when I hear gravel crunching under someone’s feet as they walk on the sidewalk, my mind goes back to those afternoons and recognizing from that sound that Dad was coming back to the car. Dad and Mom taught me to care about people.

I am a carpenter by trade. My first carpenter job was at the age of ten. Dad was a town carpenter for the lumber mill town that we lived in. For many months, when he came home from work he would eat supper and then he would drive to Eureka, about twenty-five miles away, to work all evening. Now this was a deferred payment job, which means he wasn’t getting paid immediately. In fact he was just “laying up treasures” because he was helping build a Sunday School wing on a Church so payment comes in eternity. However, just before he would leave I would ask him if I could go too. So I learned from my Dad at the age of ten how to lay our studs for a wall. I also learned it always pays to give to God, even if it is your time and energy.

There were a lot of evenings when we got in the car and would take a drive. No, we weren’t going to see scenery, we were going to Church. All the way there and all of the way home Dad and Mom would talk. They weren’t talking about people and they weren’t talking about how rough life was. They were talking about their lives, events that happened as they were growing up. Dad would talk about his work. We felt we knew as much about the people he worked with as he did. He always had a funny story from the day to share. We sang songs together. Dad had a hard time carrying a tune, but I don’t know of him ever forgetting the words to a song. In our family it was like the old song, except it changed just a bit: “Momma sang bass, Daddy sang tenor, and me and David would join right in there…” I still sing many of those old songs today. I have shared many of Dad’s funny songs with my kids and grandkids. They taught us to be a family and to love the things of God.

I was blessed to be able to learn a lot of things from Dad that have been so valuable through the years. I read a passage this morning from the Psalms that made me realize that once again. The Psalmist said walk around Zion, check out her bulwarks, examine her palaces so you can tell the next generation. Zion of course is the Church. The bulwarks are the strengths of the Church. The palaces are the beauty of the Church. We need to know it for ourselves, but we also need to show it to the next generation. Teach them something that is everlasting.

Thanks Dad! You taught me some things that are more important than shooting a gun or casting a line. They will last longer than knowing how to throw a curve or dribble behind my back. You taught me to love people, to love my family and to love my God! Those things are everlasting!

God Bless!

The Brown Thompson Chain Bible

I was talking to someone the other day, I can’t remember who. Time out, the bad thing about talking to so many people and getting old is you can’t remember who you told what. So then everyone thinks your losing “it” because you repeat yourself. You aren’t losing “it“, you are just having trouble keeping track of “it.” Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

I was talking to someone the other day about an old Bible that I have which belonged to my Dad. My father started preaching at the age of eighteen in 1948. He preached his last message five days before he passed away. That message was preached from his hospital bed in 1999. During those fifty one years he wore out two Thompson Chain Bibles and used a couple of others.

The first Bible that I remember Dad using was a brown covered Thompson Chain. It is the only thing of Dad’s that I ever really wanted and he gave it to me a few years before he died. The cover is so worn around the edges that the leather is separated. The binding is coming loose in the back. The pages are wrinkled and marked from handling, preaching and studying.

I remember the Christmas that Mom bought Dad a new black Thompson Chain Bible. With this one she bought a case for protection. I remember him preaching from that Bible many times. It too showed the signs of much use when it was finally put into “retirement.”

I could have had the choice of either Bible, mainly because I asked first. However, I wanted the Brown Thompson Chain Bible. You see there were some special memories that I have with that Bible. Let me share a few with you.

On February 12, 1952 a twenty one year old man became a soldier upon invitation from Uncle Sam. Dad was an Ordained Minister of the Gospel. This should have disqualified him automatically. He said that President Truman liked him so much he come visit anyway.
Dad had flat feet and was born blind in one eye. Either one of those should have kept him out of the military, yet they took him anyway. When he arrived in Virginia for basic training the doctors examined him and asked, “How did you get in here with these conditions?”
Dad replied, “It wasn’t hard at all!”

At that time they wanted to send him home. He shouldn’t have been there at all. Yet Dad said, “No, I am proud to serve my country, let me stay.” He felt God had him there for a reason. They let him stay.

While at Camp Pickett, Virginia Dad was able to start a church on the base for the Pentecostal soldiers and their wives to attend. Through the years he talked to many soldiers who attended that church after he was shipped out. God had him there for a reason.

He was shipped to Korea. He was in the Medical Corp and drove an ambulance. Because of his beliefs he refused to carry a weapon. He wouldn’t even carry a side arm. He walked guard duty on the front lines, but refused to carry a weapon.

Several times his life was spared by the hand of God. One time he was helping load wounded soldiers on a train just behind the front line. As he returned from the train to get another patient his commanding officer handed him a piece of shrapnel. The officer said it had landed inches behind Dad and if it had hit him it would have killed him.

The Bible Dad preached from was the Brown Thompson Chain Bible. He carried it to Virginia and preached from it there. He carried it with him to Korea and preached from it there.

I remember as a young child seeing him carry it to the pulpit and preach from it. I remember him sitting and reading from it when he was grieving over the death of his father. I remember a few months later when he returned from the funeral of his young brother who was killed so tragically in an accident, he would pick up the worn Bible and read from it. It was like a friend.
In those early formative years I came to realize that it wasn’t “that” Bible that was so special. It was “the” Bible that was so special. The author and he were good friends. He could share his thoughts and sorrows with him and get Words of strength and encouragement in return.

I will never forget sitting with him one night, very late. It was a few days before his passing. He had called us boys to come and talk. Actually, it should have been to come and listen. My two brothers and my son Justin were with me. Dad shared a lot of things with us that night. One thing he said I will never forget. In essence he said he didn’t understand why he had gotten Parkinson’s disease. He was younger than most people are when they get it. He didn’t understand why he had been stopped from doing what he had hoped to do with his life. He had wanted to travel and preach. He had wanted to take care of Mom and enjoy his grandkids and great grandchildren. He said there were a lot of things that he didn’t understand. Yet he said he wanted us boys to know, if just one life was touched by his ten years of suffering, it was worth every moment of it.

I came across a passage today that touched my heart. The Psalmist made this statement, “I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever.” Dad made the name of the Lord to be remembered to all generations. Eternity will only tell exactly who was touched. Only eternity will reveal whose life was changed because of a man who loved and served God first and foremost in his life.

This I do know. My life is different because Dad made the name of the Lord known to me. This I do know, I have two brothers who are also preachers of the Gospel because the name of the Lord was made known to them. This I do know, he has a grandson and grandson in law that are preachers of the gospel. This I do know three of his granddaughters are filled with the Holy Ghost and living for God, actively involved in the work of God.

I am encouraged to know as I deal with the cares that life brings my way, I can make the name of the Lord known to all generations. I can do it by placing my trust and confidence in God. As I do this, the next generation will hopefully realize that God is faithful and true no matter what we are dealing with.

Yes, I picked the Brown Thompson Chain Bible because it reminded me of the God of my Father. A God whose name he made known unto me.

God Bless!

Parker's Family ca1933

Parker & Elsie Doran
David Leo, Merle Eugene, Sophia Ruth Pauline,

The Guitar Pick

by:Don Doran

I remember as a very young child, loving the fact that my Grandpa could play the guitar. They lived in a huge old house on Holt in Onterio, California, right next to a drive in movie show. We would go and visit them, whenever possible.

I remember that during this time they were having church in their home and often when we were visiting we would join them for church services. Grandpa would get out his guitar, a Kay model. Jesse and Jody both had black and white electric guitars which they would play and Betty would play the piano. We would have church.

One night while we were singing, I was sitting close to Grandpa, just a little behind and to the side, so I could watch him play. During the song he decided to do a little pickin' with his fingers, so he put his guitar pick in his mouth. He did this several different times, going back and forth, using the pick then his fingers. Suddenly he got a strange look on his face. He turned a little red, choked, gagged and spit. He had almost swallowed his guitar pick, it had actually lodged in the back of his mouth for a moment. He got tickled and began to laugh about it and we all had to stop for a few moments and enjoy the moment.

Grandma With Her Mother and Siblings

Standing, left to right: Jesse Lee, Joseph Lester, Merriel G., Elsie Elizabeth
Seated: Jimmy, Effie, William David English.

Location: California in the 1950's

I Loved to Hear Grandma Recite Poems

By: Don Doran
Elsie was known by most of the family and many church friends for the poems she would recite. Many times in a church service, I remember her sharing a poem, from memory, during the "testimony service". Some were serious, a few had a little humor but all had a message of life that all could apply.

The poem that I remember my Grandma reciting most often was the poem about the old violin. As she would recite the poem, I would feel like I was actually at the auction and could hear the call of the auctioneer. Then as the poem ended with the bid for a man's soul, I again felt I could hear the call of the auctioneer.

I really loved to hear Grandma share these poems from her heart.

The Touch Of The Master's Hand
'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"
"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three..." But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And going and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the Master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game -- and he travels on. He is "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand the worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
-- Myra Brooks Welch

David Leo Doran 1930-1999

An old time Preacher Man
with his Bible in his hand and his heart
David Leo DORAN, son of Parker Aurora DORAN and Elsie Elizabeth ENGLISH, was born on 16 Apr 1930 in Somerton, Yuma Co, Arizona, USA and died on 30 Sep 1999 in Rio Dell, Humboldt Co, California, USA at age 69.

David married Lula Faye CAUSEY on 29 Mar 1956 in Colton, San Bernardino Co, California, USA. Lula was born on 6 Aug 1933 in Mt Vernon, Franklin Co, Texas, USA. Children from this marriage were: Donald Leo Doran, William David Doran and Timothy Wayne Doran