One of my favorite movies is Doc Hollywood, staring Michael J. Fox as Dr. Benjamin Stone and Julie Warner as Vialula, better known as "Lou."

Everyone likes this flick because it reminds them of the little hometown they came from years ago. My birthplace of Lexington, SC was much the same. All these communities had one doctor that delivered most of the town's offspring.

Ours was Dr. James S. Liverman, and he brought me, all of my ten brothers and sisters and dozens of our cousins into this world along with most of the other children of that era in Lexington County. The vast majority of them were delivered in the tiny Liverman Clinic on Church Street in Lexington, usually with little fanfare but great efficiency.

Dr. Liverman and his lovely wife and nurse, Katherine, took care of the many medical needs of thousands of Lexington residents over the several decades in my hometown. Like Dr. Aurelius Hogue, played by Barnard Hughes in the movie Doc Hollywood, Dr. Liverman knew his patients intimately. Hogue treated one youngster who got into his daddy's chewing tobacco with a coke. In their day, doctors practiced medicine in the patient's homes, not in an office. They could better evaluate a patient if they could see how the patient lived.

Every small town has a character for mayor. In the movie Doc Hollywood, David Ogden Stiers plays the part of Mayor Nick Nicholson, dressing as a huge squash for the annual squash festival hosted in the town. Our mayoral characters were Eli Mack, Sr. and Eli Mack, Jr., my grandfather and uncle, respectively, both of which served Lexington as Mayor.

I fondly recall my grandfather grilling out behind his home, cursing in Arabic when my grandmother Tina got the flames too high for the neighborhood shish kabob. Like Mayor Nick Nicholson in the movie, Jiddo (Arabic for grandfather) had to step in and offer advice to lower the flames before putting food on the grill. My fondest remembrance as a youth was watching Jiddo grill out for the Lexington High football team after another huge Wildcat victory.

Dr. Liverman was as much a part of the success of Lexington's athletic programs as anyone who ever played or coached there; some would probably say more so. On February 18, 1984, I spearheaded a banquet to honor Coaches J. W. Ingram and E. T. "Charge" Driggers.

Over a thousand people came to pay homage to the coaches that night. When Coach Ingram rose to thank the gathering, one of the people he credited for Lexington's success on the athletic fields was Dr. James S. Liverman. "In all the years he served as our team physician, he never rendered a single bill for any medical attention he gave to our players," remarked Ingram. "He accepted whatever the insurance paid. He never once charged us for any team physicals and rarely did he ever miss a game at home or away."

Nowadays, you can't even get most doctors to return your phone call and forget about one coming to your home to render medical attention. This is not a slam on current doctoring; it's just a simple fact.

I suspect the vast majority of folks who Dr. Liverman saw over the years never had any insurance. I know my parents never did. Ole Doc Liverman would simply tell my mother and father, "Send me what you can when you can." He never once dunned them for a penny and God knows with eleven kids needing medical attention, he rendered plenty over the years.

My guess is that he was owed hundreds of thousands of dollars by the time he went on to his greater reward.

I recently received a sweet note from Katherine Liverman thanking my for my columns over the years, citing the many memories I fondly bring up on a weekly basis. Those memories are borne out of the kindness and love of people like Dr. and Mrs. James S. Liverman. There's no need to thank me, Katherine. We should be thanking you, not just for all you did for the community over the years, but for providing all of us with fond recollections of the way we were in a kinder, gentler time in our lives.