Glasses of Kindness, Compassion, and Hope

        Twenty-five years ago I was the new kid on the block.  Moving to Lexington from a smaller town, I wasn’t exactly sure how I should go about becoming a part of the community.  Every community has its own culture, its own personality and I needed a mentor, an established citizen who would be a good example to follow.  That’s when I met Lee Jessup. 

        I first met Lee at the Kiwanis Club.  I was already a Kiwanis member, so I joined the Lexington Club and quickly discovered that Lee personified the spirit of the club.  He was engaging and affirming, full of life and energy.  It was evident that he was respected by the entire club, young and old.  The first thing I admired about Lee was that he was his own person.  We were both ministers, but Lee wasn’t your stereotypical, stodgy, and secluded First church preacher.  He didn’t follow the unwritten minister’s manual like I often did, Lee was writing his own manual and I liked his a lot better.  He was authentic, he was real and he was a vital force in our community. 

        Lee wrote a weekly religion column for The Dispatch.  He was the spiritual voice of the community.  Witty and entertaining, inspiring and grace-filled, his columns were about real life.  I couldn’t wait for the Saturday paper to come to read what Lee had to say. 

        I had only been in Lexington a couple of years when I heard that Lee was leaving.  My first thought was that Lexington would never be the same.  There would be a huge gap that no one else could fill.   Chad Killebrew, at The Dispatch, spoke to me one Sunday about becoming a religion writer for The Dispatch.  I would be joining three other writers to write a column once a month, rather than every week.  In my first column I paid a tribute to Lee and told the readers that there was no way I could take his place. 

        Then the big news came in 2001 that Lee was moving back to Lexington to become the president of the United Way.  It was a brilliant move by the United Way Directors.  They could not have selected a better person to inspire and motivate this community to compassionate giving and service.  Over the past 14 years Lee has become a good friend.  We attend a men’s Bible Study every Thursday morning.  We serve together in Kiwanis.  We cross paths at many community events. 

        A few years ago, Lee went with us to Belize as we were preparing for a medical mission trip.  He solicited hundreds of reading glasses that we later distributed across the country.  I had written the mayor of one Belizean city to inquire about using the community center for our medical clinic.  There is normally a rental fee that we were prepared to pay.  I mentioned in the letter that I would be visiting his town in advance of the medical team and that Dr. Jessup would be joining me.  I didn’t bother to explain what type of doctor he was.

        When we arrived we went to city hall to see the mayor.  It looked like we were getting the run around when I casually mentioned to the receptionist that Dr. Jessup was waiting with us and had glasses with him.  The next thing I knew people were rushing around, doors were opened and we were treated like VIPs.  The mayor, his brother, his wife, and all his cousins soon had new glasses and the community center was being offered free of charge.  The great Dr. Jessup had come to town and hearts were opened.

        For the past 14 years the great Dr. Jessup has helped us to see our community through glasses of compassion, kindness and hope. Davidson County has been blessed through his inspiring leadership.  The good news is that Lee will not be leaving town.  He will continue to be a vital force for good in our community.  And I know he will always be engaging and affirming, full of life and energy. 

        Lexington is a better city because of Lee’s presence and leadership.  We owe him a tremendous debt of gratitude.  Thank you, Lee.  I am grateful to call you my friend.

                                                       

If I Had Found The Box, I Might Have Found My Father

        I wish I could call my father on Father’s Day and tell him what a great dad he was. Daddy died in 1998.  Like King David, he was a man after God’s own heart.  A respected church and civic leader, my father was a man to be admired.  But also like King David, my father was a flawed man and sadly, that was all I could see in his last years. 

        When I was ordained in 1977 I asked the man I admired the most to speak at the service—my father.  He had always been a leader in the church and was a good public speaker.  I remember Daddy being the speaker on “Men’s Day” when I was a child.  He told a story about taking the family to the State Fair and somehow in the big crowd he lost me.  He said when we are lost God always comes searching for us and he described the great joy in finding his son and holding him in his arms. I remember it well and can still recall the fear of being lost as well as the elation of seeing my father. 

        I had a wonderful, happy childhood.  Daddy was everything a father is supposed to be.  But after I left home to go to school everything changed.

         We all have flaws and demons are relentlessly lurking in the shadows.  The demon of alcoholism invaded my father and suddenly I didn’t know him anymore.  I was devastated and felt betrayed.  My father was lost and that was when I made a tragic mistake.  I did not try to find him. 

        After Daddy died, I went to my childhood home to clean out the attic.  The attic in our home was not designed for storage, but that is what had happened.  There is one opening through the ceiling of the garage that is only accessible with a tall ladder.  When I entered the attic it was like stepping back in time.  Toys from our childhood, gadgets of every kind, and even an old aluminum Christmas tree filled the crowded space.  As I was carefully removing everything I saw a lone, isolated box at the far end. It was obvious that it had been placed far away from everything else.  I decided to wait and remove the box last.  What was it?  Why was it placed in such an inaccessible place?  There had to be a reason.

        After several days I made my last trip up the ladder and carefully brought the box down.  I opened it to reveal an olive green US Army coat.  I carefully laid the coat on the back patio as it saw the sunlight for the first time in decades.  It still had my father’s Master Sergeant  insignia on the sleeves. 

        Daddy served in the Korean War.  Like most veterans he didn’t talk about it.  He always said he didn’t see much action.  But when I found that box and opened it I realized that it contained much more than just an old army coat.

        So often in life we only see someone’s faults and failures.  We can’t find the real person because they are lost.  The key to finding them is discovering the reason they strayed.  It is often an experience that was too overwhelming, too devastating for them to deal with.  War has destroyed many lives.  So has betrayal, a devastating trauma, a broken relationship, or the death of someone we love. 

        My father and I still had a cordial relationship, but it was not the same.  Then he became ill.  He called me one day and asked me to speak at his funeral.  I made a visit to see him and for the first time in years he was my daddy again.  I realized as I walked out of the door that he had always been there, but I had not worked hard enough to find him.  It was the last time I ever saw him.

        I wish I had searched for my father the way he searched for me.  I wish I had found the box sooner.  If I had found the box, I might have found my father.  If I had found my father I would have experienced the same joy I had as a child when my father found me and held me in his arms. 

The Missing Children of Bedford Represent the Greatest Love

        Nestled in the gentle Blue Ridge Mountains of central Virginia, surrounded by acres of lush grass, playground equipment, and athletic fields, is a modern elementary school where children safely play.  It really is a gorgeous setting for this relatively new, attractive brick school whose mission statement is “to educate every child to be an academically successful student, a socially responsible citizen, and a life-long learner.”

        It’s been a busy spring.  The 4^th and 5^th graders performed an original play in March called “Failure is Impossible.”  Two weeks ago the classes had their field day and the Award Assemblies were held this week.  Yesterday was the 5^th Grade Graduation.  In so many ways the Bedford Elementary School looks like a very typical, all-American school—but it’s not.  You see, there are missing children. 

        There may be 100 children who are missing, perhaps more.  No one really knows the number.  Their last names would be Stevens, Reynolds, Yopp, Gillaspie, and Hoback to name a few.  They would be happy, well-adjusted children, participating in all of the activities, the plays, the outings.  Their moms and dads would be so proud of them and of course, their grandparents would too.  They would sit together at the Award Assemblies and the 5^th Grade Graduation with hearts full of pride and eyes brimming with tears, wondering how their little boys and girls grew up so fast. 

Their great-grandfathers would be proud too, if they were still living.  They would be in their 90s now, some approaching 100.  They would be so proud because they not only had been blessed with a long, good life, but they had watched their children, then their grandchildren, and now their great-grandchildren grow into responsible citizens, having families of their own.  They had become educators, doctors, ministers, farmers, and civic leaders.  They had made a profound difference in their community. But it never happened.

These children are missing because they were never born.  Their parents were never born.  Their grandparents were never born because their great-grandfathers who would be in their nineties now, were killed 71 years ago and they never had the opportunity to have a family.  Sitting next door to the Bedford Elementary School is the majestic National D-Day Memorial that pays homage to the valiant men who died in the D-Day Invasion on June 6, 1944.  The reason it is located in the little town of Bedford is because this community lost 21 boys in the Normandy Invasion, the greatest loss per-capita of any town or city in the United States.  Their last names were Stevens, Reynolds, Yopp, Gillaspie, Hoback plus 17 more. 

 A large delegation of Lexington travelers visited the memorial recently on our annual Bible Study Field Trip.  It was a picture-perfect spring day.  A quiet reverence, a holy hush hovered over us as we walked through the memorial listening to our guide’s commentary.  It was the largest military amphibious landing the world has ever seen involving 150,000 soldiers, 5,000 ships and 11,000 aircraft.    There were over 9,000 casualties in the invasion with 4,413 men being killed on D-Day itself.  Nineteen of the Bedford boys died within the first 15 minutes.  The magnitude of the sacrifice is incalculable, but it was necessary to defeat the powers of evil that threatened us.  General Eisenhower stated that this was a crusade in which we would accept nothing less than full victory.  Failure was impossible.  All of us in the group were touched and deeply moved by the power of the experience. 

I kept looking over at the elementary school.  I wonder how many men who died would have had great-grandchildren attending that school.  There are missing children all over our nation because a mother or father, a grandparent or great-grandparent gave the ultimate sacrifice.  But what if they had not died?  What if we had not engaged the enemy and turned back the tide of evil?  Would there even be an elementary school today?  Would we have churches in which to worship?  Would our children be able to safely play?

I invite you to pause and reflect on this Memorial Day Weekend.  I thank God for the selfless, brave, and heroic men and women who believed that “Failure is Impossible” even if it cost them their very lives.  Jesus said there is no greater love than a man who lays down his life for his friends.  The Missing Children of Bedford represent the greatest love.  

All We Ask Is That The Government Not Hurt Our Efforts To Do Good

        Thomas Jefferson said, “That government is best that governs least, because its people discipline themselves.”   We are constantly engaged in a philosophical and ideological struggle over the role of government in everyday life.  Those of us in the faith community are challenged and even commanded to help the poor, feed the hungry, lift up the downtrodden and care for the needy.  The sad truth is that many people of faith have abdicated this responsibility over to the government.  But not everyone!  There are many churches, agencies, and groups in this community who take their benevolent responsibility seriously and are changing lives in a positive way.  These are situations that the government should be applauding and encouraging, certainly not hurting!

        The Lexington Kiwanis Club has reached out to those in need by focusing on lifting up and enriching the lives of children through an annual summer camp.  When the camp first started in 1928 the target group was children who were malnourished and susceptible to the dreaded disease of tuberculosis.  Kamp Kiwanis today focuses on children who often come from troubled homes and do not receive the love and encouragement that is so essential in developing a positive self-esteem.  We still have children who don’t have enough food to eat and we feed them well, but the most important thing is to feed their spirits and develop their sense of self-worth.  We want each child to know they are special and loved in the eyes of God. 

        Our operation of Kamp Kiwanis, which gets more expensive each year, is strictly through private funds.  The only help we get from the government is that we ask the Department of Social Services to select the children to ensure we reach those who need this experience the most.  We receive no governmental funding or subsidy.  This is the reason why so many of us are dismayed by the recent action of the NC State Legislature to tax our primary source of revenue for our camp.  

        The new tax was implemented as an entertainment tax to generate more revenue from sporting events, concerts, and theater.  This is a tax we understand and support.  Governmental fairs were exempt from this tax but for some inexplicable reason or grievous oversight, county fairs were not.  Since 1946 the Lexington Kiwanis Club has owned and operated the Davidson County Agricultural Fair with the sole purpose of raising the funds to operate Kamp Kiwanis.  We are a non-profit that exists to help others.  The Kiwanis Club members volunteer their time to run the fair.   All of the proceeds go to bless the lives of these children who attend camp. No one is making money.  Everything is done for the children.

        We operate on a razor-thin margin.  All school children can enter the fair for a dollar.  The adult admission is $7.00.   We don’t charge for parking.  If this tax had been in effect last year, the club would have been forced to pay $6,800 to the state.  That would equal 970 people paying full admission or to put it another way; 27 children would not be able to attend camp. 

        I applaud the efforts of Representative Sam Watford who has introduced an amendment to exempt county fairs from this new tax.  He not only knows of the good work we seek to do, but realizes how detrimental this tax will be on a small organization like Kiwanis.  There are many times it is necessary for the government to get involved in the lives of citizens.  But when citizens are not only doing the right thing, but seeking to break the cycle of poverty so that the next generation will be less dependent on the government, the last thing the government needs to do is weaken that cause. 

        We can, and should, continue the debate on the role of government in our lives.  The more that faith groups and civic organizations can do to help people in need is a win/win for all of us.  It fulfills our mission and it reduces the burden on our government.  All we ask is that the government not hurt our efforts to do good.  

 

                                                                       

       

       

A Prophetic Voice 25 Years Ago

        A little over 25 years ago I made a visit to Lexington to meet with a man whom I had admired from a distance.  Dr. Hoke Coon served as Senior Minister of First Baptist Church of Lexington for 27 years. He had a remarkable ministry both in the church and the community.  Following his retirement the church formed a Search Committee and they were trying to convince me to become Dr. Coon’s successor.  Before I agreed to say yes, I wanted to talk to Dr. Coon, face to face. 

        Most ministers who follow a beloved, respected, long-tenured pastor like Dr. Coon don’t stay very long.  The same principle is true in coaching and business.  The legendary predecessor casts a shadow too great to overcome. But I immediately sensed it would be different with Dr. Coon. 

        We met over coffee and after a few pleasantries he looked at me and said, “I was exactly the age you are now when I came to Lexington.”  (I was 36)  “I didn’t think I would stay until retirement,” he went on to say as he stirred his coffee.  Then he looked at me and with a twinkle in his eye he added, “And you don’t either.”

        The truth is, it never entered my mind that I would stay in Lexington until I retired.  I preached my first sermon in Lexington 25 years ago next Wednesday on April Fool’s Day.  And if the good Lord is willing, the creek doesn’t rise and the faithful flock at First Baptist can put up with me, Dr. Coon was most prophetic. 

        Lexington has become our home and we feel blessed to be a part of a caring church and community.  Each Sunday I have the awesome and joyful privilege of sharing the good news of the Gospel to my church and over the radio. I’ve had the joy of watching children grow up in the church and become mature adults.  I have witnessed many life milestones and have had the sacred responsibility of walking with families through times of illness, heartache, and death.  I’ve had the great joy of presiding at many weddings and the solemn task of conducting way too many funerals. I get to go to youth camps and go on mission trips with our young people.  And traveling with Senior Adults is always rewarding. 

        Every week I have the joy of leading community Bible studies at the church and the YMCA.  For well over 20 years I have been blessed to share with you, the readers of the Dispatch through this Religion Column—a task I inherited from my friend, Lee Jessup.  I’ve helped write a book on Davidson County History.  I had great fun working with my good friend, Harold Bowen, broadcasting Lexington football games and American Legion Baseball games.  I’ve been able to help with campaigns to build the Davidson Medical Ministry Clinic, the Hospice House, and the Chapel at the Prison.  I’ve served on the Boards at both Lexington and Baptist Hospitals.  I’m proud to be a part of the Kiwanis Club and every summer have the great joy of working with children at Kamp Kiwanis.  I even get to give the blessing at the BBQ Festival every year!  Wow!  I think I just heard the angel Clarence say, “You’ve had a wonderful life.”

        It would not have been possible without Dr. Coon.  That day we met over coffee he offered to leave the church.  I told him that I wanted just the opposite.  “I need you to help me,” I said.  “I want you to be as involved as you can be.  There is enough love in a church for more than one minister.”

        Help me, he did.  He became my mentor, my confidant, and my friend.  But he always stayed in the background.  He was a humble servant to the end. 

        If the Lord is willing, I’m looking forward to several more years of service in our church and community.  This is what God has called me to do and l love what I am doing.  My wife, Joyce, and I are blessed in so many ways.  We have a wonderful family, five precious grandchildren, and we love our favorite town—Lexington.  

        Twenty-five years ago Dr. Coon knew something I did not.  I’m thankful for his prophetic voice.

                                                               

                                                            

Travel Is the Best Education

        We returned Monday night from a wonderful, relaxing 10-day Eastern Caribbean Cruise.  The idea for this trip was born last year at the Kiwanis Valentine Dinner when Jim and Debbie Tate were talking to us and we were all bemoaning the cold, miserable winter weather.  Jim and Debbie love to cruise—so we started talking about taking a Caribbean Cruise the next winter.  And we did!

        We always like to travel with friends and we were joined by Kathy Hinkle, Linda Engstrom, Kay and R. N. Hardin, Tom and Ann Lackey, and Jim and Debbie.  It was a great group and we had fun traveling together.

        Our cruise departed from Fort Lauderdale on Friday, February 27.  I’m a firm believer that you should never wait until the day of the cruise to fly to the port—too many things can happen.  We decided to fly to Fort Lauderdale on Thursday and spend the night before the cruise.  On Monday morning before our departure, Jim contacted me and asked me if I had seen the weather report for Wednesday night.  I had not.   Snow was developing and it looked like Charlotte would be hit with a major snowstorm.  Tom and Ann had decided to drive to Florida and they were looking like the smartest ones in our group.  I contacted the others and we made reservations at an airport hotel thinking that if we were at the airport, we would have no problems.  Little did we know. . .

        The snowstorm was looking more and more like a certainty and we left Wednesday afternoon for Charlotte.  Kay and R. N. rode with us.  After checking into the hotel we went for an early dinner with Jim and Debbie.  Linda and Kathy came a little later. 

        Around 6:00 p.m. the snow started.  We had just finished dinner and Jim and I decided that we needed to take our vehicles to Park N’ Go that night, rather than wait until morning since they were calling for 8 inches.  We asked the shuttle driver if he could just drop us back at the hotel, rather than take us to the airport.  He said that he had never done that before, but he was happy to oblige. 

        When we got back Kathy and Linda were checking in.  We had reservations on the 8:30 shuttle the next morning to the airport.  Our cars were parked.  We were ready to go.  But that is when USAIRWAYS decided to take the forecast seriously and we were notified that all USAir flights the next morning in Charlotte were cancelled. 

     Jim and I jumped on the hotel shuttle and went to the airport as big flakes of snow were falling.  We went the USAir counter and thankfully had a very helpful agent.   As she was trying to rebook our flights Jim and I watched the board behind her lighting up like a Christmas tree with one flight after another reading, “Cancelled, Cancelled, Cancelled.”

        When the airline cancels your flight the computer rebooks you.  Our rebooking information was coming to us on our phones.  They had us leaving Friday morning and flying to Philadelphia!  We knew that would not work.

        The agent would find us some seats but before she could book them, the computer would grab them first.  She was fighting the computer and the computer was winning. 

        Finally she said, “I’m sorry but I can’t get you to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow.” 

        But then she added, “I can get you to Miami, if that would work.” 

        Miami is only 30 miles from Fort Lauderdale.  Soon we were all booked, not on the same flights, but we were all booked to Miami.

        Linda and Kathy took an early afternoon flight to Miami and were waiting for us when we arriving around 6:00 p.m.  Our travel agent, Angela, had arranged for a driver to meet us and without any delay we were our way to Fort Lauderdale. 

        We arrived at our hotel and they informed us that they were overbooked and did not have any rooms.  If you travel you know that you must expect the unexpected, which is what we have learned to do.

        We had a wonderful cruise.  The weather was perfect, the ship was lovely, the food delicious, the fellowship was fantastic.  Most of the trips we take are filled with excursions, historical tours, and events.  But Joyce and I decided we were going to spend most of our time relaxing.  We didn’t get off the ship very much but enjoyed all of the exceptional services and amenities that come with modern day cruising.   We had dinner together with our group several times and both Sunday mornings we gathered for a time of meditation and reflection.  We came back refreshed and renewed.

        The young man who picked us up at the Miami airport told me that he was back at work for the first time in 3 years.  He went on to explain that he had cancer and had been through extensive surgery and treatment, but now he was healthy enough to work again.  Suddenly, cancelled flights and overbooked hotels seemed very small in comparison.

        Since our hotel was overbooked they sent us to the Hilton and refunded our money.  Not a bad deal considering we were about to spend 10 days sailing the beautiful Caribbean Sea.  And we were healthy and blessed to be able to travel. 

        My grandmother used to teach me that travel is the best education.  Her words continue to be true.   

       

       

Tribute to a Dean of Righteousness

 

        I grew up in Alabama where football was king and Bear Bryant had more clout than George Wallace.  I knew very little about Tobacco Road and the great ACC basketball traditions of Everett Case and Frank McGuire.  When I moved to North Carolina in the 1970s NC State became my adopted team.  I soon learned about the great legacy of Norm Sloan, David Thompson and Tommy Burleson.  I rode the emotional tide of Jimmy Valvano’s 1983 NCAA Championship for the ages. But there was always this quiet guy at the other school, the one where they wear light blue—a guy named Dean. 

        I didn’t know if Dean was his first name or if he was an actual Dean at the university.  He didn’t have the personality of Jimmy Valvano, he wasn’t a lightening rod like Lefty Driesell, he didn’t rub people the wrong way like Mike Krzyzewski; but he was a consistent winner who ran a clean program and never let any one player, not even Michael Jordan, become bigger than the team. While his basketball accomplishments were extraordinary, when I learned that Coach Smith was a dedicated member of the Binkley Memorial Baptist Church in Chapel Hill I started to realize that there was more to the story.

        Dr. Robert Seymour became the founding pastor of Binkley Church in 1958 and served for 30 years.  One the church’s first members was Dean Smith who was then an assistant basketball coach.  The two men quickly became good friends, an influential friendship that would last a lifetime. 

        Dr. Seymour’s prophetic voice guided his church to be on the cutting edge of social issues.  One of the first interns at the church was James Forbes, an African-American student from Union Theological Seminary.  Forbes went on to a legendary career of his own, later becoming the Senior Minister of the Riverside Church in New York City.  But his short time at Binkley Church was transformational and resulted in a dramatic, but little known event that many credit to ending segregation in Chapel Hill.

        The North Carolina basketball team often ate at the Pines Restaurant, a popular upscale Chapel Hill institution.   Of course, the basketball team was all white and the restaurant only served white people, as did all the other restaurants in Chapel Hill.  That all changed one day at lunch when four men entered the restaurant and asked to be seated.  Two of the men were black.  The manager was quickly summoned and was about to deny their request until he recognized one of the white men who was the Assistant Basketball Coach at the University of North Carolina.  Without any resistance, Dean Smith, along with his pastor Bob Seymour and a black student and a black minister were seated.  Most people never learned about this until years later.  Amazingly, it took place a year before the much publicized Greensboro lunch counter sit-ins. 

        A few years later it was Bob Seymour who told now head Coach Dean Smith that it was time for him to recruit a black player.  Charlie Scott had committed to Davidson and was actually enrolled in the freshman class but a visit to the campus with his parents had resulted in an ugly incident when they were refused service at a diner.  Charlie went home and called Dean Smith who brought him to visit the UNC campus.  They didn’t go to a diner.   Coach Smith brought the prized recruit to church.  Years later Charlie Scott would recall, “That’s when I knew he cared about me as a person.”

        It wasn’t just racial issues, but Dean Smith was a champion for women’s rights, equality for homosexuals, and other progressive causes.

        John Feinstein, an acclaimed sports writer, was interviewing Coach Smith a few years ago and asked him to tell him the Pines Restaurant story.  Smith gave him an angry look and said, “Who told you about that?”

        “Rev. Seymour,” he responded.

        “I wish he hadn’t done that,” Coach Smith said. 

        John Feinstein said, “Why?  You should be proud of doing something like that.”

        Dean Smith leaned forward in his chair and in a very quiet voice said, “You should never be proud of doing what is right.  You should just do what’s right.”

        And he did.  He did what was right his entire life.  He was a Dean of Righteousness. 

                                                               

                                        

Vinnon Williams--"Citizen of the Year"

        The Lexington Area Chamber of Commerce annually recognizes the “Citizen of the Year.”  It was my honor to present the award to Vinnon Williams, one of the most deserving men I know.  Vinnon has been a special friend since we arrived in Lexington in 1990.   Here are the remarks I made at the Chamber Banquet on Tuesday night.

      (Vinnon did not have a clue that he was being recognized!)

 

        It is an honor to stand here tonight to recognize a dedicated community servant, a man who has made a made a qualitative difference in Lexington, a man who believes that planning for the future involves investing in the lives of children and young people.  Most people call him by his first name, many former students still call him “Coach.”  I call him my good friend.

        A former educator and coach, he spent 21 years working with young people in the classroom and on the athletic field and court.  He changed professions, but he never changed his commitment to children as he works now to make a positive difference in the lives of the poorest and most deserving children in our county.

        Let’s step back in time 32 years ago, to 1983, when our honoree is attending his SS class at First Baptist Church.  The focus of the lesson that day was feeding the hungry, caring for the needy, providing shelter for the homeless.  The discussion wasn’t whether those were things we should do or not, but it centered around how all we usually do is talk about it.   The one we honor tonight led his class to not just talk the talk but walk the walk as they started the homeless shelter—literally in their SS classroom that had an outside door.  The Homeless shelter later became Crisis Ministry of Davidson County. 

        The nomination for Citizen of the Year, which came from a number of influential people, is primarily due to the work, the labor of love, that our honoree has tirelessly dedicated himself to in recent years. 

        The Lexington Kiwanis Club founded the Kiddie Kamp in 1928.  For almost 90 years now, this camp has provided a positive, happy, safe, and remarkable summer camp experience for children in this county whose families could not afford a camp, a beach trip, or a summer vacation.  The children, who are selected by the Department of Social Services, often come from unfortunate home situations where they are not encouraged, not valued, and sometimes abused.  These children are desperate for any type of encouragement and happiness.  They need a safe place, where they can have good food to eat, and where they are loved and valued. Kamp Kiwanis provides this experience, but it is an expensive endeavor.

       In 1946 the Kiwanis Club received approval from the Davidson County Commissioners to operate the annual county fair with the revenue providing for the Kiddie Kamp.  In the almost 70 years of operation, the county fair has had only four managers.  When Jaybird McCrary retired, Vinnon Williams became the fair manager, which is his labor of love for the children of this community.

        Jim Nance wrote:  As Fair Manager, Vinnon is totally responsible for one of the largest public undertakings in our community.  His managerial gifts and his love for and commitment to Davidson County have enabled him to make this project a continuing success even in trying and evolving times.

        Dan Smith says, “Vinnon has worked selflessly over many years to bring the Davidson County Fair to fruition.”

        Jimmy Holshouser:  “Everyone in the Kiwanis Club knows that our mission is to help children and Vinnon has taken this on as a personal challenge to see the fair grow and prosper to continue this community service to deserving youngsters in our community”

        Wayne Alley, who works with Vinnon, tells how Vinnon is working on the fair all year long, constantly on the phone.  The week of the fair, Wayne says “He will spend over 100 hours at the fairgrounds.  It is one heck of a job but he does it gladly because he knows the club’s purpose is to send 180 needy children to camp in the summer.

        Jim Tate wrote:  “He is a good example of a person with a positive attitude, a heart for giving and one who is a leader and mentor to others.”

        And Gene Klump summed it all up when he wrote:  “His efforts literally changes the lives of many underprivileged children in Davidson County through Kamp Kiwanis”

        His reputation and influence as fair manager led to his election last year as the President of the North Carolina Agricultural Fair Association.  Vinnon is also on the board of American Legion Baseball and volunteers each summer at the ballpark.  There is a long list of other accomplishments, but it is time for us to recognize a man who is most deserving of this prestigious honor.  Vinnon’s wife Gloria, has come in, and his son Chad, and his wife Brooke, and their sons Anden and Braden. 

        (At this point Vinnon received a standing ovation!)

       

A TRIBUTE TO MY HERO--ABRAHAM LINCOLN-ON HIS BIRTHDAY

        My hometown newspaper publishes once a week and it usually takes another week or two before I receive it in the mail.  It’s never a problem because my favorite section is not the current news, but a feature titled: “A Look Back.”  Events that were reported 50 years ago are highlighted and I know I’m getting old because I recognize most of the names.  A recent entry noted how the townspeople observed the big state holiday on January 19, 1961.  What state holiday?   Robert E. Lee’s birthday, of course.  We are talking Alabama here! 

        It was in Dixieland where I was born, way down south one frosty morn where the “Heart of Dixie” was the logo our license plates and Jefferson Davis pie was the staple on our dessert plates.  We never sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” in church because it was a Yankee song and we had to gently remind our great-grandparents that “The War of Northern Aggression” was indeed over and the outcome was not good.  Therefore it may surprise you to learn that one of my heroes as a boy was none other than Abraham Lincoln. 

        Two portraits hung over the blackboards in my elementary classrooms, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.  Mention the names of U.S. Grant or especially William Tecumseh Sherman and most southerners would launch into a vitriolic and venomous tirade not fit to print in anyone’s hometown paper.  But mention Abraham Lincoln and people would pause and speak of his greatness. 

        My grandmother took me to Washington, D.C. when I was a boy and I remember the feeling of awe as I stood before the imposing figure of our greatest president at the Lincoln Memorial.  She guided me to the wings of the memorial where the eloquent words of the Gettysburg Address and his second Inaugural Address are inscribed—words that inspired a little boy then, and continue to move this older man now. . .that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. . . With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in.

        Lincoln was not only eloquent, but his practical leadership and natural ability to bring people of differing persuasions together saved our nation.  Presidential historian Doris Kearns Goodwin in her exceptional book, Team of Rivals, describes how this little known prairie lawyer from Springfield, instead of appointing his cronies, brought his political rivals together to form his cabinet that would guide the nation through its darkest hours.  Long time adversary William Seward who started as the front-runner in the 1860 Presidential campaign and initially used his position on the cabinet to undermine the President, later called Lincoln’s magnanimity “almost superhuman” and said, “He is the best and wisest man I’ve ever known.” 

        The late historian Shelby Foote said that before the Civil War, people would speak of the United States in the plural.  The United States are . . .  But after the war, people said, “The United States is . . .”  Only the man who spoke of malice toward none and charity for all could create such unity.  How we need such eloquence and statesmanship today! 

        Have you noticed that Lincoln’s birthday on February 12 isn’t celebrated like it used to be?  Maybe we need to change that, to revisit our 16^th President, not only to learn from his genius and marvel at his eloquence, but to follow his example of graciousness, kindness, fairness, and genuine respect for friend and foe alike.  With our country so deeply divided, we need a Lincoln like leader to bring us together and experience a new birth of freedom, one nation, under God, because a house divided against itself cannot stand. 

        Abraham Lincoln is still my hero.

                                                       

 

       

       

Recalling the Boys of New Orleans

I was just a little boy, around 10 years old as I recall.  I was a good kid too, always doing what my momma told me to do.  I was with a bunch of other good little Protestant boys from small southern towns attending summer camp in Tennessee and we were having a great time.  At night we would gather around a big campfire under the star-filled skies and hear wonderful stories mingled in with an occasional ghost story to keep us from running away.

        The older boys, who had been to camp before, told us different kinds of stories that were much more frightening than the ghost stories the counselors told.  They told of a group of boys who came to camp every summer from New Orleans.  They were big and mean, bullies in every way.  They terrorized the smaller boys, taking their food, hanging their underwear in the trees, and sometimes teaching them a lesson with their fists that they would never forget.  There were stories of boys who were beaten and tied to a tree, covered with honey to attract the bugs and left for hours.  The legend of the New Orleans boys was growing bigger and more terrifying each and every day.

        I will never forget the sight of the big charter bus pulling up in front of the lodge and watching those big, bad boys getting off and surveying their domain.  All the little fearful Protestant boys who listened to their mommas looked on with fear.  Up to this point camp had been fun and carefree, but now, it was all about survival.  The New Orleans boys were back!

        They staked their claim the first few hours of their arrival.  I watched one crying boy being taken to First Aid with a bloodied nose.  Several others told of the New Orleans boys ransacking their cabins for snacks and tearing up a picture of one boy’s momma and daddy.  I managed to stay out of their way.

        The leader of the New Orleans boys was a tall, lanky boy named Jeff.  Jeff was street smart and talked with a strange accent, punctuating every sentence with a vocabulary that this good Baptist boy had never heard before. Jeff had a group of bodyguards who followed him around doing his dirty work. 

        One day I was walking into the back door of my cabin and Jeff simultaneously walked through the front door.  The cabin was empty and we were all alone.  He stopped and stared at me.  His silent message was loud and clear.  Get out of here little boy, this is my house.   But I didn’t move.  I stood still and stared back.  Finally, with much irritation and anger that I had not trembled in his presence he shouted, “What!” 

        I don’t know what came over me or what made me say what I did.  Jeff was much larger and definitely more intimidating than I could ever be.  I wasn’t a little John Wayne by any stretch of the imagination, but something inside of me caused me to speak and I heard my trembling voice say, “Jeff, you’re not nearly as tough as you think you are.”   

        That was the last thing I remember.  Jeff made quick work of me, leaving me beaten and battered between two footlockers. 

        A few days later I received a box of brownies from home.  Most of the good little Protestant boys got care packages.  The New Orleans boys did not.  My first thought was that I needed to hide these from the bullies, but then I heard another voice speaking to me.

        I found Jeff.  “What do you want?” he demanded, thinking I should have learned my lesson.  “I wanted to share something with you,” I said.   I opened the box of brownies.  His eyes widened and he said, “Those look good.”   “Take one,” I told him.  And he did.  We sat down together and ate the whole box!

        Jeff didn’t become my best friend that day, but he didn’t bother me anymore.  In fact, he would speak to me like we were friends.  And his boys stopped terrorizing my friends.  The voice that I heard that day was a Bible verse that I had learned in Sunday School.  “Love your enemies.  If someone strikes you on the cheek, turn the other cheek.”  

        I took Jesus at his word and discovered that he knows what he is talking about.