Chit Chat with Granny Pat

Royal Ranch Church & Ministries

On a Sunday morning, churchgoers park along a gravel driveway at a Harrison County farm. Some carry coolers and food into a red and white barn. Farm owners Kassie and Jason Bennett greet the families with hugs and welcoming smiles. Welcome to Royal Ranch Church & Ministries, a nonprofit that is not your traditional place of worship. Jason works in construction and has transformed the barn into a four-thousand-square-foot showplace with an eighteen-foot ceiling, concrete floor, and crafted woodwork. Jason says, “All the doors are custom. I built them, hand-built them with the crosses inset, and on the walls, you see all the tongue and groove.” Long tables are set up for the lunch line on both sides inside the barn. Rows of chairs fill the middle of the barn facing a stage with pews in the rear. As people arrive, they can enjoy donuts. Several dogs roam inside and attract children who pet them. The dogs are among a hundred or so rescued animals that make up the Bennetts’ other nonprofit, Royal Ranch Rescue. The animals are also part of the welcoming, relaxed atmosphere the Bennetts have created. Jason explains, “I think that's that comfort zone that keeps bringing people back. There is no judgment here, as you can see, I'm in a very simple pair of jeans, and when it comes to the animals just kind of laying around this, that, and other, I think, as a newcomer, you see that it's like, well, this is different. They're not lying on that one, so it brings peace. It brings peace and comfort.” Kassie works in real estate and is an ordained minister. She leads the church service with passion. “I grew up, my daddy was a deacon, mom's Sunday school teacher. If the doors were open, we were there. And I grew up in man-made religion, so it's the opposite of what we do here. Religion is actually the polar opposite of what we try to do; religion is look like this, act like this, walk like this. We'll call you a Christian, and we just say, "Come, like Jesus loves you, and let Jesus do the job that only He can do, and change you from the inside out.” So, we just love people. Our job isn't to judge. We built this, and we do this to build a community.” Dozens of people show up for Sunday service, but Kassie says when they started holding church on their farm five years ago, it was a much smaller group. Fourteen people, mostly family, attended that first worship service on Easter Sunday. The barn was not yet finished. Kassie remembers, “We went many winters with no heat, so like everybody would have their own little furnaces and their own little heaters, and everybody had blankets and gloves.” She says every Sunday they worshipped, no matter how few people came. “We have service when it's been really, really bad, and we couldn't get people up the lane. In winter, we did do it online a couple times, but no, every Sunday you can count on, and it's not about just coming to a place that looks different than a normal church. It's about community, it's about family. Our vision was to create a place that feels like Sunday coming home to the farm.” Now not only is the barn full of people, but there’s also a lot going on outside. Children play on an inflatable bouncy house. Others tour the farm to meet and touch horses. A young boy holds a chicken and pets it. There’s a basketball court where teenagers are playing. And nearby sits a black motor coach. Its side is covered by a large painting of the Bennetts and their five children next to the face of Jesus. Words on the bus proclaim, “This guy loves you more than anyone else can.” The Bennetts take their ministry on the road. Also, outside near the barn is a small stage with a large tub of water for baptisms after the worship service. When asked how the couple pays for all this, which includes a hot lunch on Sundays in the barn, Kassie explains they don’t pass the offering plate like a traditional church, but they do accept donations. “I'm just gonna be honest with you, Sam. It's a sense of pride that I didn't want to ask for help, like people see what we're doing, they see how I mean, we feed everyone every Sunday, like the cost of that is not, and then the things that you don't see behind the scenes, and you know, we hire an outside bookkeeping service that does nothing but nonprofits, just because I don't want anyone to think that there's any crazy thing going on, so they're not one person here gets paid. There's no salary, there's no funding, there's none of that, but there's a lot of money that it costs just to keep it running, insurance and all that stuff.” The sense of community the Bennetts have created appeals to people like Dillon and Tessa Price. Tessa says, “It doesn't feel like the brick-and-mortar church that we had been going to, and it just felt so welcoming, and I mean, I could go on about things that it's just been one week after another, there's something that just keeps making us come back.” McKenzie Etienne, who is dating one of the Bennetts’ sons, explains the appeal of church on the farm. “It's almost freeing, it's very different. It's just, it's like a gathering place, and for it not being like a traditional setting, I feel like it just allows people to be themselves, it's kind of... it's different, so they're like, oh, you know, they come into it with like an open mind and just… I feel like it allows people to take their masks off and just be themselves.” The Bennetts say people of all faith backgrounds are welcome. Jason says, “It's not our job to judge them, we love them, we just want to show them some Jesus, and then you know, let Jesus work on their heart on whatever you know they need worked on, and whatever avenue they need worked on. We all need work.” This Fall, Royal Ranch Church & Ministries will host women’s, men’s, and couples’ conferences. More information is available on the church’s Facebook page.

Wildcat Mountain Farmstead Cheese

A steady clicking noise pulsates every second inside the milking shed on a dairy farm in East Bernstadt. Third-generation dairy farmer Ronnie Patton has attached milkers to three dairy cows lined up inside. “What we're doing is with these, we're simulating what a calf does here on a cow with pulsation. It pulses like a sucking sound, and that's what that does, and the cow lets her milk down.” Four milkers are attached to the cow’s teats, and milk swirls through sanitized pipes to a glass container before going into a refrigerated 800-gallon tank. In all, Ronnie will milk twenty cows twice a day, seven days a week. It’s hard work that can be challenging when dealing with 1200-to-1500-pound animals. “You can get hurt in there. Yes, you can get kicked, and you'll get pooped on. It's where it hits you when they do it, it hits you in the face.” Ronnie says his 200-acre farm is the last dairy farm left in Laurel County. Nationwide, the number of small dairy farms has plummeted 63 percent in the last ten years. Small farm extension agent Laura Rogers from Kentucky State University says fewer people in the younger generations are farming for a living. “One thing is that our population is getting older. I don't see as many 18, 19, 20-somethings doing it. It's hard work. And they've been taught, stay on the computer. Look at the laptop. You can't look at a laptop. And, you know, hoe a garden, you got to do one or the other, and it tastes discipline.” Ronnie and his wife Clara, who makes cheese from their cow’s milk, occasionally bring in help, but most of the time the couple does the work. For Clara, it’s 12-hour days when she makes cheese twice a week. She works in a 400-square-foot sanitized room in the rear of the couple’s cheese shop at Wildcat Mountain Cheese. Clara has a degree in food science and worked as a health environmentalist. “Cheese making is an art, plus science coming together. There's just certain things you know to do at certain times, the look, the feel of it. Science isn't necessarily going to tell you that science, a little bit more like temperatures controlled, pH, things like that, and then the bacteria, what they will do, but it's just everything coming together.” Clara wears a white work apron, a hair net, and booties on her shoes to keep from tracking dirt and germs into the cheese-making room. Steel sinks, a steel table, and a two-hundred-gallon vat fill the room. The vat is half full of milk. “It's low-temperature batch pasteurization, meaning we heat it to 145 Fahrenheit for 30 minutes, and the pasteurization will kill off stray bacteria and potential pathogens that could be in the milk, and that levels the playing ground for the cultures, which is bacteria that we add into the milk to control, for the control of the cheese making. It's the cultures that ultimately will give the cheese the flavors. We use one type of culture for like Gouda, a different culture for cheddar, a different strain of bacteria for Swiss. So, they're all different.” A nearby cooling room is lined with shelves holding different kinds of homemade cheese. “We do Colby Gouda cheddars, and we do some flavored cheddars, like we do white cheddar, and we also do a traditional yellow cheddar. We then do a garlic pepper chatter, a pioneer coffee rub, and a jalapeno cheddar. We also make Swiss, and we named our Swiss Bernstadt Swiss, after our community of East Bernstadt. And we also do fresh cheese curds, which are white cheddar curds. We do those in about three different flavors.” The Pattons sell their cheese from the farm shop and at small retailers from London to Lexington, and over in Huntington, West Virginia. The couple also sells their cheese at farmers’ markets where they get face-to-face feedback. Clara says, “the real joy comes later on, when you're either serving that cheese, like some of the events that we do and or at the farmers market, and people just come back and they're just, oh, you have very good cheese, the best cheese in the world, or just those comments from people and the joy that they seeing them enjoy the product.” One of the joys Ronnie experiences is bottle feeding the newborn calves. “I think it's most innocent things on God's green earth, a little baby calf, yeah. They're precious. And they grow up to be mean cows.” He laughs about that. Ronnie names all his dairy cows. All part of running a small dairy farm. It’s a life the Pattons appreciate and do well. Ronnie has a framed picture of his grandfather in the cheese shop to remind him of his roots. “My grandfather started the dairy in the 30s. Early 30s, they sold cream. And then in ‘39 they went to selling fluid milk, and he farmed it. When my dad came back from the Korean War he helped. And then when I got out of school in the 70s, I stayed here and done this.” If you’d like more information on the Pattons’ cheese, check out Wildcat Mountain Cheese on Facebook. **The 1850 campaign is replacing lost federal funds one supporter at a time. Thanks to our listeners and supporters, we are very close to reaching our goal of 1850 new supporters donating at least $10 a month. Click here to join the campaign! [https://afg.secureallegiance.com/weku/WebModule/Donate.aspx?P=PLEDGE&PAGETYPE=PLG&CHECK=2IHggXVb%2bSYhrOSvjvOZaxiCxtaFReuS]

Chit Chat with Granny Pat

Four years ago, Christmas changed Pat O’ Neal’s life. Her granddaughter, Jessica Duerr, gave O’Neal a gift that would bring her fans from around the world. Jessica decided her grandmother needed a new project, so she created a YouTube channel called Chit Chat with Granny Pat. Jessica remembers, “I’d heard her say a few times over the course of a couple years after writing her books, that she just loves telling stories, and she really wished that she could do it on a wider audience and just tell them to a whole bunch of people. So, I just woke up one Christmas morning with this crazy idea, and thought, I'll just sit down at my computer for a few minutes and get this started. And I thought, what would be a clever name? Chit Chat with Granny Pat just came to me, and so I made her YouTube channel and gave it to her after all the gifts were opened that Christmas. And to say she was happy is probably an understatement. There were tears. She was really happy.” O’Neal of Lexington, who turned 90 on May 1, recalls she was not sure what to make of the gift. “You're crazy? That's what I said. I know nothing about YouTube. I can't do that. That was about it.” And O’Neal was less impressed with the name of her YouTube channel, and made sure Jessica and O’Neal’s daughter, Jan Deer, knew it. “First thing I said to Jan and Jessica, her daughter, was Chit Chat with Granny Pat.  That's the silliest thing I've ever heard of. They liked it. The people will like it. I said, I can't believe that that's going to be the title of my YouTube channel, but it has a ring to it.” O’Neal has always enjoyed telling stories about family history, but this YouTube channel took her storytelling to another level. O’Neal’s first challenge was figuring out the technical side of recording her first story for Chit Chat with Granny Pat. “It didn't record, and I had to do it a second time. It was a kitchen. Why in the world did I choose the kitchen. I'm not a cook, but everybody cooks on YouTube. So, I decided to do a recipe, and I thought I was doing pretty good getting everything put together, and sat down to watch myself, and nothing was there. So, I had to start over.” O’Neal did not think this latest project would last very long. “I thought within three or four months, I would be so tired of trying to understand what monetize meant and all those new words in my vocabulary that I didn't have a clue what they meant. I can't do that. But I stayed with it. I am just doing my thing and thinking, oh, this is terrible. I would watch it. After I did a video, I'd watch it, and then I'd start to post it, and I got it recorded, and then I watched it. I said, no, no, I can't show this. This is terrible. Nobody's going to watch it, but I left it, just let it go. So many times, I have been told this is your best story yet, and I think I was going to delete that story, so it tells you what people like.” Her stories often involve show-and-tell inside her small Lexington condo.  In one segment, she shows off her vast collection of serving china. In another, she opens the radio cabinet from the 1940’s and explains how she bought it for twelve dollars at a garage sale. Many of her stories, she says, came from her mother. “My mother told me the stories. So, they're not just my stories; they're her stories going way back. She could tell me about the Civil War; she could tell me about the ancestors in the Revolutionary War. She knew all about the First World War, and I had a brother who died in the Second World War, so I was learning a little bit of history on my own and also telling it to other people.” Her stories on Chit Chat with Granny Pat are usually 30 to 60 minutes long. She does not edit them, which adds to her charm and authentic nature. If she has a sniffle or a cough, it stays on her recording. To date, Chit Chat with Granny Pat has nearly 39,000 subscribers. A fact that amazes O’Neal.   She records one or two stories every week. After four years, O’Neal has more than six hundred stories on her YouTube channel. Her viewers include people around the world. “I learned that people do want to listen to me. People want to hear my stories. I was thinking, I'm getting elderly, you know. And I was thinking about the elderly people like me who live alone. What have they got to do besides watch TV? They don't have anybody to talk to. I've got to talk to them, I'm going to tell them stories, true stories.” O’Neal’s success on YouTube has impressed her family. Her daughter Jan says, “I feel blessed. I feel very blessed to have a mother that’s in excellent health. She's in better health than I am in literally. The people that she has reached literally all over the world, literally. And I'm like, the other day, there was somebody that was from Australia. She's got New Zealand, Ireland, Italy, Europe, Canada, the UK. She's got people that she talks to in the UK. She gets gifts, card stuff in the mail all the time from people just all over the world and all over, especially all over the country.” O’Neal says her life has been a constant search for learning why she’s on this earth. “I've always wanted to be seen, be seen by somebody, you know, I've wanted to put my mark on the world. I've asked myself for years, Why am I here? What is it I'm supposed to be doing? I'm getting older. Time is passing me by. I want to know what my purpose is in being here.” Her YouTube storytelling has helped O’Neal understand her mission in life. She offered advice for other senior citizens searching for purpose in the later years. “You just got to think positive all the time. You have to force yourself to think positive, because especially if you live alone, what am I going to do today? Each day is the same. And I think Jan and Jessica recognized that I needed something. All of my projects had been done.” O’Neal has learned it’s never too late to take on a new project. It just might be something that ends up being a huge part of your legacy. “What are you doing with your life, and what are you here for? I've just done what I'm here for. I've given history. I've added to history. And if nobody else knows it but me, that doesn't matter, somebody's going to see it one of these days.” Yes, they are. Episodes of Chit Chat with Granny Pat can be found on YouTube.

Kentucky's Croquet Champion

A loud thud echoes as Brian Hovis strikes a croquet ball with his mallet. The 51-year-old is practicing his croquet swing on the lawn at his home in Lawrence County. I ask. “Do you ever get any strange looks when you're practicing out here doing croquet?” Brian says, “I do, yeah, people slow down. A lot of people know each other, though it's a small community, so I'll just get a lot of honks and some waves.” Brian wears a short-sleeved sports shirt with blue stripes and white stars, a white belt, casual blue pants, and white tennis shoes. He swings a professional mallet that he says cost about eight hundred dollars. “This is a two-pound, 13-ounce mallet, and this is a carbon fiber head. It's hollow on the inside, and it has one-inch brass inserts on each end. And those brass inserts make the mallet heavier on the ends. So, when you're swinging the mallet, it helps keep the mallet (hitting) straight. When you're swinging between your feet.” Brian bends at the waist with both hands gripping the top handle of the mallet, swings back between his legs, and then smoothly swings the mallet forward, hitting the croquet ball. “It's the same every time. You don't want too many thoughts in your head. The only thought I think while I'm hitting the ball is how far I'm going to take a back swing; how much back swing am I going to take? All I’m doing out here is swinging the mallet.” Brian began playing croquet twenty-five years ago when his father-in-law, Duke Diamond, introduced him to the game. When I ask Brian about his father-in-law, he suddenly becomes quiet and emotional. His father-in-law passed away last year. Brian’s wife, April, says the two had a special bond. “I don't think my husband had ever even heard the word croquet until we started dating. We hadn't been dating long. One of the first times he was at my house, my dad saw him. He was like, hey, what do you know about croquet? And he took him out in the yard, and they played a game, and he absolutely fell in love with it pretty quickly. He was so supportive of my husband, and he loved the fact that he loved playing croquet. It was just something they shared together.” Brian began competing in croquet tournaments around the country, and in 2017, he was named Rookie of the Year by the U-S Croquet Association (USCA). Then last year Brian won the national championship in nine-wicket croquet. He says it took “a lot of practice, a lot of hitting balls out in the yard, just watching a lot of YouTube videos, believe it or not, YouTube was a big part of me learning the game.” Brian is also a croquet referee, and he works part-time for the USCA. He says there’s a lot of strategy in playing croquet. “I used to love to play chess, so it's like chess. You always have to play, you know, three or four shots ahead. You've got to think about what your opponent's going to do, and you've got to know what you're going to do, you know, react. You have to be able to react. It's just like chess. It's playing chess out on the yard and billiards, chess and billiards put together. So again, 90% of the games are played above the shoulders.” In May, Brian will be the Director of the 2026 USCA 9-Wicket National Tournament in Morehead. It will be held May 28th through the 31st at the Morehead City Park. Dean Rowland, a croquet player from Morehead, will be helping run the tournament. “If I'm not mistaken, this is the first time a US Nationals has ever been played in the state of Kentucky, and it's happening in Morehead.” Dean described the four croquet courts for the national tournament. “I've got two courts out here in all Bermuda grass, and then I'm going to have two on the baseball field, and it's just Blue Grass.” Dean’s wife, Pam Rowland, started playing a couple of years ago. “I played one time, and when we left, I was like, that was so much fun. I love that. And he was shocked that I loved it. And so, he just started taking me with him. So, I kind of got hooked.” Pam and her husband encourage people to come out and enjoy watching the national tournament in May. “It would be awesome to come watch, because they dress in all white. That's the USCA rule. Everyone has to wear all white. And as a spectator, it's just really neat to watch. As far as what it means to the community, I think it's just a phenomenal way to showcase our little town. I love Morehead. It's such a great place to live, and we have so much to offer that I don't think people realize. So, I think it'll bring people in and get them to recognize Morehead and Rowan County.” Back in Lawrence County, Brian Hovis continues to practice the game he loves. “Women, men, and children all could be equally on the same stage. It's not a game of strength and power, but more of an intellect. Yeah, it's a thinking man's game.” More information on the national tournament in Morehead is at www.croquetamerica.com [http://www.croquetamerica.com]. **The 1850 campaign is replacing lost federal funds one supporter at a time. Thanks to our listeners and supporters, we are very close to reaching our goal of 1850 new supporters donating at least $10 a month. Click here to join the campaign! [https://afg.secureallegiance.com/weku/WebModule/Donate.aspx?P=PLEDGE&PAGETYPE=PLG&CHECK=2IHggXVb%2bSYhrOSvjvOZaxiCxtaFReuS]

Lexington twin sisters dedicated to serving senior citizens

Paulette Baker and her twin sister are the activity directors [https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/645cb80/2147483647/strip/false/crop/481x640+0+0/resize/397x528!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2Ff9%2Fea%2F5d6d450a4d65b929d0b5eec056a8%2Fed9e85c1-0e3e-42b3-8031-35e2d2da342c.jfif] Paulette Baker and her twin sister are the activity directors(Submitted / Annette Dence and Paulette Baker) Their smiles and infectious personalities times two pervade Providence Nursing Home on Versailles Road in Lexington. 67-year-old twin sisters Annette Dence and Paulette Baker are the activity directors at Homestead Post Acute and Pine Meadows Post Acute at Providence. Annette Dence leads a pep rally at Homestead Acute Care in Lexington [https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/1a60c36/2147483647/strip/false/crop/640x481+0+0/resize/640x481!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F1f%2F0d%2F17bba82e4d11af08c4491486032b%2Fcd883b0d-70be-4bf0-bce7-c4ba0296f62e.jfif] Annette Dence leads a pep rally at Homestead Acute Care in Lexington(Sam Dick / WEKU) Annette started working at Providence 46 years ago. She recalls looking for a job as a 21-year-old. “I had worked at the nursing home in Bowling Green when I attended Western for a short term, and I just enjoyed being around people. You know, just being around people was exciting. And so, before I entered this door, I prayed, and I said, Lord, direct my path and place me where you need me to be.” She and her sister were star athletes in Washington County. Paulette would stop by Providence to see her sister. Annette and Paulette grew up in Washington County where they were star athletes [https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/d5f4f88/2147483647/strip/false/crop/640x481+0+0/resize/640x481!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F5e%2Ffd%2F39f0e97b4d7fbdb0b127026dd94e%2F6be7b02e-2152-4a89-bf19-b7655f887622.jfif] Annette and Paulette grew up in Washington County where they were star athletes(Sam Dick / WEKU) “I would like assist as a volunteer with her. My husband and I ran a restaurant in Winchester. And so, after that was over, I just wanted to find something that would give me worthiness and that I would enjoy doing. I used to work with special needs early on in my career, and so I came to visit Annette one day, and they said they were looking for an activity’s person at Pine Meadows.” That was 21 years ago, and the sisters have not stopped caring for the nursing home residents. Paulette credits their family upbringing and faith for their dedication to senior citizens. “God is a comforter, and God will, he'll give you what you need at the time, you just continue to be thankful for the moments and the experience that you had and the gratefulness. I'm still here. I still have opportunity to make a difference in someone's life.” The sisters consider the residents a second family. Annette says they plan activities throughout the week that keep the seniors engaged. The sisters are know for their compassion, friendship, and fun personalities [https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/9ce76e6/2147483647/strip/false/crop/640x481+0+0/resize/640x481!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F11%2Fc7%2Feab96f1245f5ad1db2dca2989356%2F20815560-06a2-49a5-bb1f-0f5efc55caa7.jfif] The sisters are know for their compassion, friendship, and fun personalities(Sam Dick / WEKU) “We have Wednesday Bible study. What we try to do is promote what they were used to on the outside. And so, we bring things inside. We have Bible study. We gamble on Monday, we play blackjack, we go to church on Sunday, and gamble on Monday. We're very diverse; we just do whatever you know they want to do. We allow these residents to engage in what they're used to.” Music is a big part of that. “I think music is soothing. It's powerful. It's music. It tells a story. For example, when we do the “Oh, Happy Day”, it takes them back to church. It takes them back to when they were growing up in the church. For a lot of our elderly population church was a big thing for them; it was a big, big, big issue. And then, you know, they enjoy the music of their time. So, we go back. We go all the way back to the 1920s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 80s. We sing it all. We do it all.” Justin Holman is the administrator at Homestead Acute Care. He relishes the sister’s dedication through the decades. “Well, it makes my job easier. Makes my life easier. It helps me to feel comfort in that I know that that the residents will be engaged and that they will be cared for, and not just physically, but in other ways. And I don't really have to worry about that now. I have no doubt that the residents will be cared for in the best way possible.” The sisters consider the senior citizens like a second family [https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/22fa108/2147483647/strip/false/crop/640x481+0+0/resize/640x481!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F2c%2F02%2F493bfd1d4640985285641c718339%2F4f3162b1-e311-4726-b1df-757fc57dc89c.jfif] The sisters consider the senior citizens like a second family(Sam Dick / WEKU) Their care of the residents also comforts family members of the senior citizens. Thad Holway says he knew very quickly that his mother Sally was in the right place. “Paulette and Annette and many of the staff there love these people and make them feel loved. And I saw that, and for every holiday, even Presidents Day, whatever, they decorated that place to the nines. And they just wanted to be there. My mom looked at me one time and she was sitting on the edge of her bed, and I was sitting in a chair in her room. She goes, oh, I should have done this five years ago. They bring me my food, they wash my clothes, they bathe me. She goes; this is heaven.” Thad’s mother passed away at the nursing home a year ago. “I went to Pine meadow to get her stuff, and Paulette was right there to greet me at the door and just gave me the biggest hug and held me for like 30 seconds and told me how much she loved my mom.” Sandy Stover a nursing home resident of 26-years at Providence, appreciates how Annette cares for her. “She's marvelous. She's wonderful. She's caring. I don't know. She has made this my home, not just me, not just me, everyone. She's the most gracious. It's just hard to put it. She cares so much about the people here. I just get a bit of an emotional because I said, I love her so very, very much as a caring friend.” Paulette says it’s about family, kindness, and compassion. The twins have a total of 67-years serving the senior citizens at Providence Nursing Care [https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/c2a4358/2147483647/strip/false/crop/640x481+0+0/resize/640x481!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2Ff1%2Fcf%2Fc230b52746d1ab276188bfae1d5b%2F423cc21c-abeb-4977-bf89-0dc0a88c82a7.jfif] The twins have a total of 67-years serving the senior citizens at Providence Nursing Care(Sam Dick / WEKU) “Every day that I come in here, there's a new somebody with the need or something, and it just makes me feel good to be able to help them and assist them and get to know them and be a part of their family. Because once they come to a facility, whether it be one day, 10 days, or 10 years, they become a part of our family. And so, you know, family means a lot to me. I come from a big family, and so I have a big family here.” Paulette and Annette provide care that goes beyond their job titles. It’s their mission in life. It’s their legacy on this Earth.