Lucky us
Maybe it's because it was the week of St. Patrick's Day. The writing prompt for the week was "Lucky", and I was having a hard time coming up with something to write about. There weren't any front-page-news lucky moments that I knew of in the family tree ... no major sweepstakes wins or escapes from mortal peril (although ANY of the military veterans in our tree might qualify in that regard, I suppose). So what to write about?
As I got to thinking more about it, I got to thinking about the people I felt lucky to have in my life, and why. Perhaps, if luck is simply a happy accident of circumstances turning out in your favor, then how our lives are affected by the people around us, both ordinary and extraordinary, is lucky in itself. We don't get to choose the families we are born into, but being fortunate in the family you have is a lucky thing indeed.
And so I thought of my Grandfather Glenn. He has been gone from us for almost 15 years, and yet his presence, I think, is still felt by those of us who loved him, and his warmth and his wisdom manifests itself in our lives every day.
He was born on March 20, 1920 in the little farming community of Walters, Oklahoma. His Dad farmed, and his mother kept house. As he grew older, he attended a little one-room community school house, and helped by working on the farm. He served in the military. He went to college. He married and had children. On the surface, and viewed only through the records that are left behind, I'm sure it seems a surprisingly ordinary life. But this is why people who research family history work so hard to find more than just the records. Because people, like this wonderful man, are so much more than the physical footprint of their lives that is left behind when they are gone. Glenn made a huge impact on the people around him in the years he was with us. He made our lives better in so many ways, mostly just by being the man that he was.
He was a man who cared for those around him. It never appeared to be something that he had to make himself do, but rather something that was just a part of his nature. He would see a need, and he would work to try and fill it. When World War II started, he joined the Army Air Corps. He told me, "When World War II started, I joined up real quick with the Air Force so that I wouldn't get drafted into the Infantry and have to go shoot people." After the War, he returned home, went back to college, met a young lady and married. When his oldest son, Ron, was born in 1948 the new baby had intestinal problems that required surgery. Glenn donated blood when Ron needed a transfusion. And when the baby needed oxygen and the staff didn't seem to be moving fast enough, Glenn ran and got the tank himself. He just did the things that needed doing. Sometimes he filled a need by pursuing his chosen profession of preaching. Sometimes it was in caring for someone's physical needs. I remember many years when he would collect clothing and other items that he could take and distribute to brethren south of the border who needed help. Brethren that knew and loved him often called him "El Viejo", or "the old man." He loved his family and his brethren with a love like the ocean ... vast and wide and all-encompassing.
He loved to make people smile. I remember many, many visits to their house as a child where he took time to show us card tricks and sleight of hand. He had, perhaps, learned many of these in the days he entertained folks as a magician while he was in college. He would amaze you with some trick, and then show you how it was done and try to help you do it yourself. Occasionally, I still pull one of those old "magic" lessons out of my hat to surprise my own kids. He loved to tell stories and tall tales. Some were family history in disguise. Some were just made up. Something in the way he told them held your attention and made you want to know what he was going to say next.
He loved to speak the truth. He studied theology at Abilene Christian College after the War. When he began his preaching career, he began preaching in English-speaking congregations at Farmersville, Texas, and then Bristow, Oklahoma. After that, he began preaching in both English and Spanish, and spent a great deal of time working with congregations along the Texas-Mexico border. He also occasionally ventured into the interior of Mexico, and even as far south as Chile and Argentina in South America. It was his life's work for a total of 43 years. He preached in congregations, he worked to help teach new young preachers, and he published a bulletin called "Along the Border". He would often translate reports sent by Mexican preachers into English, to be sent on to the brethren that supported them in the United States. He taught about the way God wanted you to live, in a way that was understandable and that you could identify with. He made even the big things in life seem reasonable and able to be accomplished.
He loved music. When he first got out of high school, he attended Cameron College in Lawton, Oklahoma, to study music. His pursuit of higher education was interrupted by service in World War II, but when he returned home after the War and began attending college in Abilene, he took part in the band and orchestra as well as keeping up with his studies. It seemed he was always singing something throughout each day, whether it was an actual tune we recognized, or just something he made up. I've know him to play the piano, the accordian, and other instruments. He also taught singing classes for some of the Spanish-speaking brethren, to help them learn the different parts of the 4-part harmonies that are so much a part of a capella music.
He was a teacher. He taught the word of God, and he taught everyday common sense. He didn't try to demand that you follow his way of thinking, but he told you what he believed and why he believed it in a way that was easy to understand and relate to. He looked for the good in people and always encouraged them to be the best they could be. His care and concern when he did this was evident, and it nearly always made you willing to listen to what he was trying to say, even when you didn't agree with him.
He worked hard. He went home to Oklahoma after the spring school semester of 1947 to work on the farm and earn a little money. After the harvest, he traveled to Alabama, and "came back an old married man." He knew he wanted to get married, and he wanted to do whatever he could to support his new bride. During his years as a preacher, there were years when his family needed more income than his preaching work could provide and he went to work as a salesman, driving hundreds of miles to sell his products, and then returning in time to be at the next church service. He would drive all over town, picking up people who needed a ride to church and helping them get where they needed to go. My father tells of hearing him say that they had once gotten 15 or 18 people in a 2-seat '57 Rambler. In an article by Warren Berkley in The Preceptor (Aug 2000), friend and fellow preacher Bill Reeves spoke of Glenn's perseverance: "Never evidencing discouragement, he has always been seen as active in writing and preaching, on both sides of the border ..."
He showed us the way. Until the very end of his life, Grandpa was teaching us. Even when he could no longer speak or teach us directly, we learned from him. As Alzheimer's slowly claimed the man we knew, we would see glimpses of the man he was, even in the midst of it all. His heart and his mind always returned to his family, and to his God.
And those of us who knew and loved him are the lucky ones, because of what kind of a man he was, and the things that he shared with us all. Today would have been his 98th birthday, and we celebrate him even now.
As I got to thinking more about it, I got to thinking about the people I felt lucky to have in my life, and why. Perhaps, if luck is simply a happy accident of circumstances turning out in your favor, then how our lives are affected by the people around us, both ordinary and extraordinary, is lucky in itself. We don't get to choose the families we are born into, but being fortunate in the family you have is a lucky thing indeed.
And so I thought of my Grandfather Glenn. He has been gone from us for almost 15 years, and yet his presence, I think, is still felt by those of us who loved him, and his warmth and his wisdom manifests itself in our lives every day.
He was born on March 20, 1920 in the little farming community of Walters, Oklahoma. His Dad farmed, and his mother kept house. As he grew older, he attended a little one-room community school house, and helped by working on the farm. He served in the military. He went to college. He married and had children. On the surface, and viewed only through the records that are left behind, I'm sure it seems a surprisingly ordinary life. But this is why people who research family history work so hard to find more than just the records. Because people, like this wonderful man, are so much more than the physical footprint of their lives that is left behind when they are gone. Glenn made a huge impact on the people around him in the years he was with us. He made our lives better in so many ways, mostly just by being the man that he was.
He was a man who cared for those around him. It never appeared to be something that he had to make himself do, but rather something that was just a part of his nature. He would see a need, and he would work to try and fill it. When World War II started, he joined the Army Air Corps. He told me, "When World War II started, I joined up real quick with the Air Force so that I wouldn't get drafted into the Infantry and have to go shoot people." After the War, he returned home, went back to college, met a young lady and married. When his oldest son, Ron, was born in 1948 the new baby had intestinal problems that required surgery. Glenn donated blood when Ron needed a transfusion. And when the baby needed oxygen and the staff didn't seem to be moving fast enough, Glenn ran and got the tank himself. He just did the things that needed doing. Sometimes he filled a need by pursuing his chosen profession of preaching. Sometimes it was in caring for someone's physical needs. I remember many years when he would collect clothing and other items that he could take and distribute to brethren south of the border who needed help. Brethren that knew and loved him often called him "El Viejo", or "the old man." He loved his family and his brethren with a love like the ocean ... vast and wide and all-encompassing.
He loved to make people smile. I remember many, many visits to their house as a child where he took time to show us card tricks and sleight of hand. He had, perhaps, learned many of these in the days he entertained folks as a magician while he was in college. He would amaze you with some trick, and then show you how it was done and try to help you do it yourself. Occasionally, I still pull one of those old "magic" lessons out of my hat to surprise my own kids. He loved to tell stories and tall tales. Some were family history in disguise. Some were just made up. Something in the way he told them held your attention and made you want to know what he was going to say next.
He loved to speak the truth. He studied theology at Abilene Christian College after the War. When he began his preaching career, he began preaching in English-speaking congregations at Farmersville, Texas, and then Bristow, Oklahoma. After that, he began preaching in both English and Spanish, and spent a great deal of time working with congregations along the Texas-Mexico border. He also occasionally ventured into the interior of Mexico, and even as far south as Chile and Argentina in South America. It was his life's work for a total of 43 years. He preached in congregations, he worked to help teach new young preachers, and he published a bulletin called "Along the Border". He would often translate reports sent by Mexican preachers into English, to be sent on to the brethren that supported them in the United States. He taught about the way God wanted you to live, in a way that was understandable and that you could identify with. He made even the big things in life seem reasonable and able to be accomplished.
He loved music. When he first got out of high school, he attended Cameron College in Lawton, Oklahoma, to study music. His pursuit of higher education was interrupted by service in World War II, but when he returned home after the War and began attending college in Abilene, he took part in the band and orchestra as well as keeping up with his studies. It seemed he was always singing something throughout each day, whether it was an actual tune we recognized, or just something he made up. I've know him to play the piano, the accordian, and other instruments. He also taught singing classes for some of the Spanish-speaking brethren, to help them learn the different parts of the 4-part harmonies that are so much a part of a capella music.
He was a teacher. He taught the word of God, and he taught everyday common sense. He didn't try to demand that you follow his way of thinking, but he told you what he believed and why he believed it in a way that was easy to understand and relate to. He looked for the good in people and always encouraged them to be the best they could be. His care and concern when he did this was evident, and it nearly always made you willing to listen to what he was trying to say, even when you didn't agree with him.
He worked hard. He went home to Oklahoma after the spring school semester of 1947 to work on the farm and earn a little money. After the harvest, he traveled to Alabama, and "came back an old married man." He knew he wanted to get married, and he wanted to do whatever he could to support his new bride. During his years as a preacher, there were years when his family needed more income than his preaching work could provide and he went to work as a salesman, driving hundreds of miles to sell his products, and then returning in time to be at the next church service. He would drive all over town, picking up people who needed a ride to church and helping them get where they needed to go. My father tells of hearing him say that they had once gotten 15 or 18 people in a 2-seat '57 Rambler. In an article by Warren Berkley in The Preceptor (Aug 2000), friend and fellow preacher Bill Reeves spoke of Glenn's perseverance: "Never evidencing discouragement, he has always been seen as active in writing and preaching, on both sides of the border ..."
He showed us the way. Until the very end of his life, Grandpa was teaching us. Even when he could no longer speak or teach us directly, we learned from him. As Alzheimer's slowly claimed the man we knew, we would see glimpses of the man he was, even in the midst of it all. His heart and his mind always returned to his family, and to his God.
And those of us who knew and loved him are the lucky ones, because of what kind of a man he was, and the things that he shared with us all. Today would have been his 98th birthday, and we celebrate him even now.
Thank you, Brenda. That was wonderfully written. Happy birthday, Dad.
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