My father was a Methodist Minister from graduation from Duke Divinity school till his death at the Methodist Home in 2005. Having grown up on a farm, he knew right from wrong and he was quick to call it when he saw it. He was not shy about bringing God to bear on the issues of our time.
During the late 50s and into the 1960s my father spoke out strongly on civil rights issues from the pulpit. He pointed out the God-given rights of all people to pursue happiness and to live free without fear. Many times he met stony silence but he continued to preach the Gospel of Christ and to point out the inconsistencies in our society. I was proud of his intensity and in 1962 became a protestor myself in Greensboro, NC when marchers tried to integrate the movie theater and the downtown lunch counter. When I was arrested my father came and bailed me out and said "Christ and I are proud of you". When I was later booted out of Greensboro College as a direct result of my continued militancy on civil rights, he confronted the President of the college, told him he was wrong and backed me 100%.
On Father's Day I will say a prayer for my father and for my son and for myself. May each of us call it the way it is even when it is uncomfortable and unpopular. My father did and I am still proud of him!
WBH Culp
My dad had a quiet reassurance about him and he was always there. I had a morning paper route as a young kid, which meant I was up and delivering papers before 6:00 AM Monday through Saturday. At the top of the hill on Pine Avenue I delivered the last paper and headed for home. There in the distance was the silhouette of my dad in the kitchen window cooking a hot breakfast of French toast or pancakes. I knew I was almost home. I knew I was safe. Beyond anything else my dad made me feel safe, and that’s one of the most important things a kid can feel.
My dad had a knack for saying just the right thing at just the right time…
I sat in the car staring out the window watching the kids who had arrived before me shoot baskets. I was nervous. My first basketball camp, my first time away from home and I was in the 7th grade. My dad didn’t say much on the way to Jack Donohue’s Basketball Camp. But I think he knew that I was nervous. He glanced out the window and watched the kids shooting, too. One of them missed a shot.
“He missed,” my dad said. For some strange reason, I wasn’t nervous any more.
My dad could put my mind at ease without saying a word. He had this reassuring wink that told me everything in the world was going to be OK, and searching the stands for his wink was a big part of my pre-game ritual during my high school basketball career.
I’ve always wanted my dad to be proud of me and I hope he is, because I am proud of him and love him very much.
Lewis M. Kayes, III
Son of Lewis M. Kayes, Jr.
Dr. Sir,
I reply to your request because I have thought all of my mature life that my father was truly exceptional.
Born in Augusta, Georgia, and from his boyhood a member of the First Presbyterian Church there, he was a model member, was a lifetime churchman who, when I was a teenager, was a virtual founder of the Clairmont Presbyterian Church in Decatur, Georgia. In Augusta he had met my mother, who was born in nearby Grovetown, Georgia. They became engaged at the height of the Depression and could not get married because Dad had no job yet. A graduate of Georgia Tech with a degree in Architecture, he had been presented by Tech with a scholarship to help him get a Master’s degree in Architecture from the Harvard University Graduate School of Design. I have inherited many of the letters they exchanged as they waited and hoped for his graduation, which they thought would produce a good job for him whereby they could be married.
After earning his Master’s from Harvard, he could not, because of the Depression, soon find a job in Atlanta. Their letters at the time show great disappointment and depression concerning their hopes. But Dad never gave up hope, and he finally found a job that paid him just over seventeen dollars a week!!! It was on that salary that they were married and that I was born. But he never complained. He just worked and designed some of the key buildings in Atlanta, especially, in 1939, the first mall and shopping center in Atlanta that had off-street parking: The Briarcliff Plaza. At the same time he was an officer in the Army Reserves and was one of not many Americans on active duty when World War II broke out. I saw him come to my mother on the day after Pearl Harbor and tell her, concerning his artillery unit, that “They have given me one hour to tell you goodbye.” On he went, eventually to Boston, where he was assigned as the officer to load the Queen Mary, which had become an American troop ship, with the first Americans to be sent to Australia and New Guinea to defend them against Japanese air attacks. He kept a diary of his entire wartime service from 1941 to 1945, which records his daily sacrifices and achievements to protect his country and its people. He became a battery commander and general advisor to other Army and Navy forces concerning how to overcome Japanese attacks. He started as a first lieutenant and became a major before war’s end. His diary shows how his religious faith supported him throughout and how often he used that faith to comfort and encourage others.
Upon war’s end, he came back to Atlanta and re-entered architecture, designing such classic buildings as the home of the Retail Credit Association, while at the same time fathering two more children, in addition to the two who had been born before the war. Always going to church regularly (even Sunday nights and Wednesdays), he made me and my brothers devoted all of our lives to church and religious life. One of us has just himself retired as a Presbyterian minister who began his service to God and man in Scotland, continued it in Texas and Arkansas, and ended it in Oklahoma, while most f the time our father was a major anchor of the Clairmont Presbyterian Church in Decatur, Georgia, to whose origins he had contributed by getting its property donated by an uncle, and its designs influenced by advice and gifts.
He was a fulltime father, husband, reserve officer, and ruling elder. A 1991 stroke made it necessary for him to spend the remainder of his life in a nursing home, where he impressed all with his courage and endurance. Just before he died in that place, he told me during a visit to him, “Lister, I like this place. They take good care of me.” Along with thanks for mother, I thank God for him every night. He never made much money, but he gave very much of himself to very many. I am honored to be his son, and since his death in 1994, continue to try to live up to the example that he set for everyone who ever knew him.
James Lister Skinner IIII
My dad was a wise, quiet, trusting man. Within that demeanor he unspokenly communicated a confidence that I would do my very best. He, himself, never had the opportunity for much formal education. As one of 14 children, he was hired out to other farmers for planting and harvesting -- much like farm laborers today. When it was time to plant, he was committed to the farm and had to leave school. Ditto when it was time to harvest. Within this pattern he never completed the 7th grade, yet he was one of the wisest persons I ever met. After marriage, he and my mother moved from the farm to the nearby city of Hagerstown, MD. He took a job as a factory worker cutting shoe soles. It was long hours, and he never earned more than $5,000 a year. But he and mother were very frugal, farmed a large plot behind their home and kept chickens. When it came time for me to go to college, the factory owner (a Scrooge-type person) came to him and offered to loan him money for my education. Dad graciously thanked him and said that wouldn't be necessary. Knowing how hard they worked and "scrimped," spurred me all the more to study hard and "scrimp" on my expenses -- working on weekends and during summers. If I had one line to describe dad, it would be: He didn't tell me how to live. He simply lived and let me watch him do it.
Warm best,
Ed Palmer
My Dad was a product of the Great Depression and a life molded on the "farm" where everything was used and re-used and the only part of the pig that went to waste was the squeal. He graduated high school and went to college for a semester, but his family could not understand why he had to spend more time studying for his Davidson College classes than his North Meck classes. Their understanding and appreciation of "higher" education was limited. Consequently, he joined the Air Force shortly after Korea and wound up at Piedmont Natural Gas in their service department after his four years in the Air Force. He saw too many of the professional soldiers were as professional as drinkers and he wanted no part of that, so he went to a "trade". He stayed there for 35+ years and retired as the senior serviceman for Piedmont when he was forced to leave because of his health.
He spent his life sacrificing for others, including myself and my sisters and my Mom. All three of us graduated college, two of us graduated with advanced degrees including my law degree and my sister's doctorate. While he did not "pay" for our education, he provided for us so that other funds could be used and we had all of our other needs cared for. None of us had any college debt when we graduated. The sacrifices of his life gave us huge financial advantages and his attitude towards education, being markedly different than that of his parents, put us on a different path ... one that he could have traveled but for others' limited perspective which he refused to adopt.
My Dad was not a brilliant scientist or doctor. He was not a savvy financier or businessman. However, he died worth seven figures and did not stab anyone in the back to do so or steal from any shareholders or the "market" at someone else's expense. He left us in a great position to find our fortunes. He taught us the value of hard work and commitment: to his wife, children, employer and God. He was the epitome of taking care of the small things and the bigger things falling into place. As I have grown older, I have seen more and more just how wise and good we was. He knew how to make the "right" choices. He left us much too soon at age 65, but he made up for any loss in quantity of time by quality of person and example.
Bob McIntosh
I want to thank my dad for his past and present perseverance and family leadership. He leads by example by taking one day at a time. I love him dearly and pray my kids know how much he loves them as he also loves me. My father is a great man. Thank you god for allowing him to be involved in my life.
Gary Frazier
My Dad (Richard Martin)
My dad was born into a farming family in 1899 in Wisconsin. He attended school to the 8th grade, but then had to stay home to help with the farming. He was not formally educated, but learned what he needed to know to be a good farmer. I was always impressed with his hard work (most days up at 5 AM to milk the cows and was not finished until about 6-7 PM). I spent a lot of time while growing up by helping my dad with farm work, and he taught me a lot about farming. However, by the time I reached high school, I had decided that I did not want to be a farmer. My dad was very sad and disappointed when I told him this. I wanted to go to college, but my dad did not think I needed a college education. He was very uncomfortable around people that more educated. I think that he might felt inferior. My dad set a good example for me to be a loving father and hard worker and dependable. However, he was somewhat distant, and we did not have many serious talks. He could be very stubborn sometimes and had some prejudice against blacks and Jews. However, I never saw him disrespect anybody person to person. Overall, he was a very loving husband to my mother, good father to both my brother, and I and set a good example for both of us. I miss him very much and wish I could be with him this Father’s Day.
Doug Martin
June 16, 2009
I wish to share the wonderful memories I have as having the most closet to Christlike father anyone could have. I wish everyone could know how my daddy lived his life with true humility and honor for his heavenly Father. I talk often to my friends about the life lessons I learned from My Daddy. He taught me to respect other people's property. I remember one time in my high school years when my best guy friend bound for military service during the Vietnam era bought a Jeep and we went riding in a cornfield on Labor day and we trashed a corn field of a neighbor Farmer . when I got home daddy knew (small community ) that I had left with this guy and several of my buddies. called me in to the den and asked were you involved??? My answer (taught to never lie to any one by him) was of course yes. He was very angry but no one but me would ever had guessed that , He only said You were part of something that cost a Man part of his living . You will go to Mr. Hovis and offer to cut the corn you rode over with a manual corn knife and I will help you . but you and you alone must make this right , because you knew better, I said daddy everybody else knew better , too. His answer was everybody else is not my daughter.
daddy used to bring me home any wild animals damaged if he was tilling a field and let me care for them because I loved animals as did he and because I think he felt bad disturbing their life. If I got one to live I got to keep it .I had more wild animals as pets than you can imagine.
I love him and miss him more and more . You never get over the loss of your Father .but you always have the great honor knowing how much God must love having him with him I know how truly blessed I was more and more even now. Thank you for this opportunity to talk about My daddy.
I wish that if I ever find some partner to share my life with that they would have had the honor of knowing my father Joe weaver. My only regret and his as well that I never found someone as good as him to share my life with.
Lynda
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