Newport State of Mind

It has been a hot summer in Arkansas, a really hot summer. The heat has a dizzying effect. My thoughts are a scrambled mix of today and yesterday. It may be the heat, but it is more like a 'Newport state of mind.'



Earlier this month I wandered back down stream to Newport for a special occasion...the third annual Newport High School Hall of Fame banquet. The 2011 honorees included my good friend Dr. Jabez Jackson, Jr. (NHS '59), Steve Stephens (NHS '48), David Belva (NHS '79), Billy Warren (NHS '82), and Lt. Lynn Michael Travis (NHS '59). Each of these individuals has left a legacy of good works and career accomplishments that yield a clear reflection of their personal commitments and the influence of family, friends, teachers, coaches, and other mentors prominent in their lives. Also, each of the honorees has left an everlasting mark on the hearts of loved ones and the community of Newport.



I am most fortunate to have been able to attend this year's NHS Hall of Fame banquet as well as the two previous ones. These banquets are indeed a homecoming. Many former classmates of the honorees are in attendance along with townspeople and school leaders. Perhaps the finest acceptance speech I have ever witnessed at such an event was delivered at this year's banquet by my life long friend and NHS Class of 1970 'littermate' Freeman Travis. Freeman represented his sisters Molly Travis McGonigal and Becky Travis McCartney and the family of their brother Lt. Lynn Michael "Mike" Travis who was being honored posthumously. Effectively, Freeman made a few personal comments from the perspective of a younger brother who was only seven years old when his 'big' brother graduated from high school and left home. But then he allowed Mike to 'speak' for himself through a couple of letters written home to their parents at critical times in his life. One came in the aftermath of the Cuban missile crisis when Mike was a Midshipmen at the U. S. Naval Academy and the other came while on deployment in Vietnam just weeks after the birth of his first child, a son he would never meet. Mike lost his life on a reconnaissance flight off the Vietnam coast a short time after he penned the second letter from which Freeman read. The letters spoke with a mature voice, a patriot's voice, laced with care, commitment, and love for family and country. Of course, Freeman's delivery was impeccable. His strong, 'radio voice' and 'spot on' inflection brought 'life' to Mike's words and tears to my eyes. And the Gold Star he wore on his lapel honored his brother's sacrifice. The Doris and Buddy Travis family has been a shining star in Newport's universe for decades and Mike Travis is the first 'real hero' I ever knew.



While sitting at the banquet and listening to the antics of dear friend and emcee John Pennington (NHS '69) in addition to the remembrances of the honorees and those who inducted them into the Hall of Fame, I was captured by this 'magic moment' and lapsed into a Newport state of mind.



Billy Joel wrote a song, "New York State of Mind," in 1976 about a return trip to his 'home town' of New York City after an extended absence. Newport and New York City are similar only in the hearts of 'home town' boys. I listen to Billy Joel's lyrics with a Greyhound (a nice summer drink to beat the heat...a 'salty dog' without the salt) in my hand and the Greyhounds in my heart. The lyrics aren't exactly as he wrote them, but they are what I 'hear'...maybe it's the heat.

Some folks like to get away

Take a holiday from the neighborhood

Hop a flight to Miami Beach

Or to Hollywood

But I'm taking a Greyhound

On the White River Line

I'm in a Newport state of mind

Some folks do "get away" from Newport. Some of those honored as Newport High School Hall of Fame inductees have been recognized for merits made after they got away from 'home' and traveled to bigger cities with brighter prospects, at least 'brighter' in the innocent eyes of a teenager. But one does not have to "get away" in order to take significant strides on life's crooked pathway or to make their marks on the heart of a community. The NHS Hall of Fame certainly recognizes the importance of good leadership returning home. Several of the early inductees into the NHS Hall of Fame returned to Newport after extending their education beyond high school. They have spent their adult lives giving back through time and talent in effort to enhance the quality of life for all in the town...Kaneaster Hodges, Jr. (NHS '56 and NHS HOF 2009), John Mullins (NHS '40 and NHS HOF 2010), John Minor (NHS '52 and NHS HOF 2010), Bill Keedy, Jr. (NHS '63 and NHS HOF 2010), and Jabez Jackson, Jr. (NHS '59 and NHS HOF 2011) are among them. Many who have left the city limits yearn to return to Newport, if just for a short stay. I often get on that imaginary Greyhound bus and travel through time to the Newport of my youth. Back to Billy Joel's thoughts...

I've seen all the movie stars

In their fancy cars and their limousines

Been high in the Rockies under the evergreen

But I know what I'm needing

And I don't want to waste more time

I'm in a Newport state of mind

I certainly haven't rubbed elbows with "all the movie stars" as Billy Joel has, but I have been lucky enough to travel around a bit and fortunate enough to realize that I need the embrace of the home folks from time to time. Reuniting with people who have White River water running in their veins lifts my spirit. On the evening of the Hall of Fame banquet I felt the hugs of many I hold dear. Sissy Hurley Sanborn and Bobbie Hurley Harper were there. Miss Bobbie came in from California and attended the banquet to support her NHS classmate and honoree Steve Stephens. (I always enjoy my conversations with Miss Bobbie and Sissy, mother and aunt of my littermate David Sibley.) Fellow NHS Class of '48 mate Bobby Newell was also in the crowd supporting Steve. Steve was introduced by another classmate, Sonny Burgess, who is sure to join him in the NHS Hall of Fame some day. After all, Sonny is already in the Rockabilly Hall of Fame and the Rock in Roll Hall of Fame of Europe. In accepting the night's honor, Steve Stephens recalled the beginnings of his long radio and television career at KNBY and noted his first interview with Carl Perkins at the Silver Moon.

Several members of the NHS classes of 1959, 1979 and 1982 were in attendance at the banquet cheering on their fellow classmates for honors received. It was a fun evening. Sandra Belva, one of my former teachers at NHS, was beaming with pride as her son, David, accepted the Hall of Fame tag. After a distinguished military career, David currently serves as director of information technology for the Defense Threat Reduction Agency, which is a first line of defense in safeguarding America and our allies from weapons of mass destruction.

Billy Warren is perhaps the finest football running back to ever wear the Orange and Black. Today he is a senior administrator for building operations in Fulton County, Georgia. Billy was introduced by his junior high school coach Stan McKee. Charles Balentine (NHS '81 and NHS HOF 2009), a former Greyhound teammate was in the audience along with Billy's wife and daughter. Cheers for Billy on this night were as joyous as they were on Friday nights in the early 1980's.

Jabez Jackson, Jr. has practiced medicine in Newport for over 35 years and delivered thousands of babies to Newport's playgrounds. He cares about his family, he cares about his patients, he cares about Newport. I served on the Newport School Board with Jabez in the late '80s and early '90s and witnessed his commitment to education. Over the years, Newport has been blessed with many fine doctors. Jabez Jackson, Jr. is among the finest. In his acceptance remarks, Jabez not only gave credence to his family and teachers for his success, but he also heaped accolades upon his peers, the boys he grew up alongside in his Newport neighborhood.

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues

But now I need a little give and take

The Newport Independent, a bit of daily news

It is really easy to let the "day by day" work routine soak up your time and distance you from the happenings along the Rock 'n Roll Highway where the "rhythm and blues" of our youth plays on in our hearts. The Newport Independent is no longer a 'daily,' but it still brings me the news surrounding the lives of people important to me. Despite the 'good news' like the recent Hall of Fame announcement of honorees, often times my initial instinct is to turn to the obituary page. In recent months, several of my friends have experienced the loss of a parent as I did earlier this year. "To everything there is a season." I remember Elouise Grimes, mother of littermate Jan Grimes Ott; Norma Nelson, mother of littermate Billie Jean Nelson Rice; Lola Mae Baker, mother of littermate Scott Baker; Sonny Bullard, father of littermate Dinny Bullard; James Hopkins, father of littermate Jamie Hopkins Block; Henry Lake, father of littermate Robert Lake; Bette Phillips, mother of friends Bill Phillips (NHS '69) and Mary Lou Phillips Delcase (NHS '72); Jonita Reid Darling (NHS '63), mother of friend Jamie Darling (NHS '90). I also wish to pay respects to Cathren McCartney, a 'forever youngster' and teacher to generations of Newport students who recently dusted her chalkboard erasers for the final time in this life at age 98, and to James Logan Morgan (NHS '58), possibly Jackson County's finest historian, who departed this life in the past week leaving us to discover the mysteries of the past on our own.

I did not have to rely on the Newport Independent to deliver the 'news' of my long time pal and littermate Marion "Cotton" Mullins' death on July 15, just four days prior to his 59th birthday. Coincidentally, I was in Newport for the annual Invitational golf tournament at the Newport Country Club at the time of Marion's sudden death. Such a kind and thoughtful man he was. My heart breaks for his family and his wide circle of friends. The NHS Class of 1970 will sorely miss Marion's presence in our lives, yet he will remain forever in our broken hearts.

I must mention the passing from this life of another man I have never met personally, but I know him through his music. Jerry Leiber died this week at the age of 78 after writing a myriad of iconic songs for my generation. Some of the better known songs he brought to the jukeboxes and the airwaves in collaboration with Mike Stoller are "Kansas City," "On Broadway,", Yakety Yak," "Young Blood," "Hound Dog," and "Stand By Me." I would venture to call "Stand By Me" my personal anthem. Thank you, Jerry Leiber! Godspeed!

It comes down to reality

And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide

Don't care if it's Remmel Park or down by the river's side

I don't have any reasons

Cause I've left them all behind

I'm in a Newport state of mind

Did I mention it's been hot in Arkansas this summer? That is the "reality" of the situation. I worked in the yard Saturday and to catch a breather I slipped indoors and tuned in the Little League World Series national championship game between California and Montana on the television. I had been alerted to the determination of the 'little big men' from the Big Sky country of Montana by Jack Payne (NHS '64), a Newport transplant to Montana and fine friend in Facebookland. Facebook is not Newport, but it serves as a fun gathering place for 'old' friends to reminisce, cuss, and discuss the events of the day. Being the baseball fan that I am, I really appreciate Jack scattering the word about the Big Sky Little Leaguers (his grandson plays in the local Billings league). The 'underdog' Montana team lost to the California nine that came to the championship game with some really hot bats. Watching these enthusiastic, young ball players took me back to summers in Newport in the early '60s. To have played on a national stage in the Little League World Series would have been a grand experience at the age of 12, but the times spent on the baseball diamonds with my friends growing up produced a lot of fun memories.

A couple of patient men who coached me on the youth league baseball fields of Newport were among those gathered at the NHS Hall of Fame banquet. I have already mentioned Sonny Burgess' introduction of honoree Steve Stephens. Sonny is not only a top notch Rock 'n Roller, he was a really good ball player. He was often at the ball field volunteering his time to teach the kids the fundamentals of the game when I was a boy. My other former coach present that night is Dale Harrison (NHS '59). Dale introduced the crowd to Mike Travis by remembering their days together as boys. Dale coached baseball in the Newport in the '60s and often called me "Bounce" after he experimented with moving me from second base to third base. As a youngster, my arm wasn't particularly strong and my throws from third to first were often on one hop. I was lucky to have someone like Mickey Doyle playing first base then. Mickey was a good fielder and saved many of my errant throws.

My 'young' baseball buddy, good friend, and littermate Mickey Doyle was present at the NHS Hall of Fame banquet. He was there with his wife, Tinker, in support of honoree Dr. Jabez Jackson, Jr. Tinker works on Jabez's staff. While Mickey and I were visiting, he mentioned our days of playing ball together. Mickey and I made up the right side of the infield (Mickey at first base and I at second) for several Little League and Babe Ruth League teams and played some Legion ball together...from little boys to bigger little boys. But it wasn't the 'organized' ball Mickey was remembering as it was the neighborhood 'pick up' games we played with so many others on the south side of town back when we were 'little boys.'

We had a couple of reliable 'fields' we played upon...vacant lots. The one most often used was in the southern most block of Walnut Street across the alley from my house and next door to littermate Ann Gardner's home. Mickey challenged me to recall the boys who so often joined us in these 'pick up' games. Most times there would only be enough boys to play 6 or 7 on a team, but there were those days when we had enough to field two complete nine man teams with some waiting to get in the game. Those were the days! At the risk of leaving someone out, I will venture to remember some of the 'regular' players in those early days of baseball on South Walnut Street. In addition to Mickey and me, there was Donny Appleton, David Sibley, Jim Reid Holden, Jerry Ashley, Mack Adams, Billy Joe Adams, Buddy Conner, Coy Womble, Doug Lambert, George Rogers, Billy Goss, Bobby Goss, Edward Kinney, Tim McDowell, Bobby Fife, George Causey, Bobby Alcorn, Billy Alcorn, Lee Conditt...Some of these 'boys' are three or so years older than I and some three or so years younger, so all would not have been at the 'sandlot' at the same time. I'm confident I have omitted someone who played 'regularly,' but it is hot outside and I'm a bit dizzy...I'm sure it's the heat, can't be the drink in my hand. If you remember playing ball with the South Walnut Street gang, drop me a line and jog my memory.

Baseball on a hot summer's day...nothing like it. As former major leaguer Roy Campanella once said, "to be good at this game, you gotta have a lot of little boy in you." In recognition of those 'little boys,' California defeated Japan Sunday in the finals of the Little League World Series 2-1.

And I tip my hat to Graham Godfrey, the son of my college gal pal Vicki Gray Godfrey, for climbing the stairway from Little League to the major leagues. Graham made his major league debut earlier this year as a pitcher for the Oakland A's.

Thoughts of Little League past and the dreams of major league play take me to the time when Newport hosted the Regional American Legion tournament in 1961, I think it was 1961. I was a Little Leaguer and 'worked' the tournament as a bat boy. I'm thinking two future major leaguers played in that tournament (or maybe it's just my imagination...or the heat)...I believe Rusty Staub played on the Lousiana team and Phil Gagliano played for the Tennessee team from Memphis.

I appreciate Jack Payne and Mickey Doyle circling the bases with me as we stay in touch with baseball past and present. I invite you to join us on the playgrounds of Facebookland. Facebook really is a fun place to gather and share life's triumphs and trials. Sure there are a few 'goofy' pals who will go on and on griping about something or telling us what they had for breakfast, but you can ignore that banter on Facebook as simply as you did when you were face to face with the same 'goofy' friend at Headlee's Drug Store after the ball game back on those hot summer days in the early '60s.

I'm just taking a Greyhound on the White River Line

'Cause I'm in a Newport state of mind

I'm hanging out by the river just a few miles upstream from my boyhood dreams. I wish to acknowledge the dedication of those men and women serving our nation in the armed forces. It is their sacrifices that have allowed me the freedom to pursue those boyhood dreams. As we stand on the threshold of the tenth anniversary of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attack on U. S. soil, let us remember those who perished that day and all who have had their lives taken from them in valiant effort to preserve the freedoms we enjoy.

I'm in a Newport state of mind........

joe

Mother and Child Reunion

Paul Simon released a song in 1972 that captured the hearts of many listeners and jumped to the top of the Billboard charts. Over the years the meaning behind the lyrics has been the topic of conversation after conversation. Regardless of the circumstances that inspired Simon to pen this popular tune, I suggest the true meaning lies in the heart and mind of each individual subject to its spell.

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

I have been reflecting on my mother’s life during the past few weeks. My mother, Anna Lawana Meacham Miles, passed from this life on February 19, 2011. While that date coincides with my sister Lana’s birthday, I see no coincidence in mother’s death falling on that date. Her death was a gift, her final earthly gift to my sister. I choose to believe that mother’s death effectively gifted life back to Lana. Lana’s devotion to mother in a caretaker’s role during the last seven years restricted her social being. And for those who know Lana, you are well aware of her fun loving, free spirited, friendly approach to life in our social world. As diminished as mother’s mental vitality had become in her struggle with Alzheimer’s, I’m confident she was aware of the different world into which she had gradually moved. It was a place where she did not wish to reside. So she began knocking on Heaven’s door...even pounding at times. Her knocking was persistent and determined. Amidst the noise, God’s doorkeeper finally answered her knock…Reunion!

February 19 was an appropriate day, perhaps a “strange” day, for a “mother and child reunion.” And, yes, it was a “mournful day” for those who knew and loved Mother. Let me share a bit about my mother...

Anna Lawana Meacham Miles was the eighth of fourteen children born to Rossie Belle Rodgers Meacham and Charles Monroe Meacham. Three of her older brothers had died as toddlers sometime after the influenza pandemic of 1918-1920. At the time of her birth on November 25, 1927, Lawana had two older brothers and two older sisters living in the household. The family resided in Cave City, Arkansas; however, mother was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma where her father was working a job as a steeplejack. Her name, Lawana, honored a Cherokee mid-wife who assisted with her birth. The Meachams returned to Cave City shortly after mother's arrival. She was the only one of the fourteen Meacham children born outside Arkansas. Now I want to say that some of my ‘facts’ may not be facts at all. I only know some of what I know through the tales of others passed along as folklore.

The Meacham family was Independence County pioneers who had settled in Arkansas territory prior to statehood. They were a determined and loyal lot with my mother seemingly hardwired with these qualities. About the time mother was seven years of age, the family moved to Mississippi County, Arkansas near the small town of Manila. If you have read John Grisham’s novel, “A Painted House,” you can clearly envision the lifestyle of mother’s family in post-Depression northeast Arkansas. Like many others born of this era, mother recognized that a good education could be her ticket to a ‘better life.’ She would be the first in her family to finish high school, but that diploma was not easily earned. Choppin' and pickin' cotton took precedent over school days at times. But she was determined. Lawana Meacham graduated from Manila High School in 1948. She was twenty years old. Interestingly, among the small number of her fellow graduates at Manila was Neal Webster, the father of my Newport High School classmate, Doug Webster.

With high school diploma in hand, she purchased a bus ticket to Newport, Arkansas, where she moved in with her aunt and uncle, Ann Meacham Gray and Dr. Cyrus R. Gray. She started work at Dr. Gray’s Hospital (now Harris Hospital) as a receptionist with designs set on becoming a lab technician. Her ambitions were detoured when she met Vernon “Little Red” Miles, eight years her senior, on a blind double date at the coffee shop in the old Hazel Hotel next door to the hospital. At that initial meeting they did not have a date with each other, but were respectively paired with the other two individuals in the foursome. A phone call following that first meeting led to a formal date…Reunion.

Lawana Meacham and “Little Red” Miles were married on Sunday, May 14, 1950, in the chapel of the First Methodist Church in Searcy, Arkansas. It was Mother’s Day. This union produced three children. I am the eldest of the three. Dr. Jabez Jackson, Sr. delivered me to my parents' care on April 14, 1952. April 14 has been referred to, by some, as “Ruination Day” in its association with two particularly disastrous events, the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln and the sinking of the Titanic. My father used to greet me annually on my birthday with these words, “Son, on this day, Lincoln met a bullet, the Titanic met an iceberg, and I met you…what a day!” I had two younger sisters. Lana was born February 19, 1954 and Ann Marie was born May 17, 1958.

My mother would know the heartache of losing a child, just as her mother had known that same empty feeling. Mother and child…Reunion. My youngest sister, Ann Marie, was born with spina bifida and died only days old. Ann Marie’s funeral remains a vivid and everlasting memory as I accompanied my father and other family members to a quiet graveside service in Center Hill outside Searcy near my dad’s birthplace. My mother was still in the hospital in Newport at Ann Marie’s burial. Mother and child…Separation in body, but always united in spirit. With Mother's every thought of her child...Reunion.

Upon their marriage, my parents moved into a small apartment at 412 Hazel Street in Newport, just two blocks down the street from where mother worked at the hospital and two blocks from one of two service stations my dad managed at the time. These two service stations were a Lion Station located at the corner of Third and Laurel Streets and a Citi Service Station located at the corner of Third and Beech Streets. Mother attended church at First Methodist directly across Third Street from the Lion Station managed by my father. Family, church, and work were neatly bundled up in four square blocks. School would be folded into that neat little bundle of existence when I started first grade at the Walnut Street School with 412 Hazel being just a half block up Fifth Street from the school.

Toward the end of my first grade year in the spring of 1959, we moved from 412 Hazel to 1100 South Main Street in Newport. The first thing I recall Mother doing at the new house was her planting a redbud tree in memory of Ann Marie in the front yard, appropriate I think being as Ann Marie was a redhead. That tree represents a “mother and child reunion” and it flourishes today. Mother would reside at 1100 South Main until moving to Las Vegas to live with my sister, Lana, in the fall of 2003.

Mother had a strong work ethic. She immersed herself in the activities of her children. She took on volunteer leadership positions in the PTA as well as Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. I read recently that the most influential person in the achievement of Eagle Scout recognition is the scout's mother. I am a testament to that statement. Mother actually went on a camping excursion with our troop as the cooking merit badge counselor to assure that all seeking that merit badge successfully completed the requirements. I must admit that 'earning' a cooking merit badge does not translate into being a good cook. That I am not. But mother warranted me worthy of a passing grade and rewarded me with a merit badge of accomplishment.

Mother was diligent in her volunteer duties with the Newport Service League, Beta Sigma Phi, the Jackson County Historical Society, Portfest, and her church, especially her church. Similar to many other working mothers, she crammed her various volunteer activities into and around her jobs. Despite the inference, mother was not an “all work, no play” person. She genuinely had fun in every endeavor she pursued. Even when the work was of serious nature, she could find joy in its midst. She found personal satisfaction as president of the Newport Service League leading the organization in pursuit of its mission to provide support services for children less privileged. To fund its initiatives, the Service League sponsored the annual Follies, a fun-filled 'vaudeville' show displaying the talent of many Jackson County citizens. I can 'see' her practicing the 'Can-Can' as a member of the Follies' chorus line one year. She loved it!

While it may not have been her first choice for career path, Mother thrived in the retail environment. She had done well in her Home Economics courses in high school and had become a very good seamstress, which may have sparked her interest in fashion. I believe her first retail sales job was at Kent's Dress Shop located on Front Street in Newport and owned by her good friend, Jane Kent. It is likely she took on this job as an avenue to discounts on apparel rather than for a paycheck. Mother was most always 'dressed to the nines.' Her signature appearance was a snappy, tailored look with just the right accessories to capture attention. Her collection of shoes would have rivaled that of Imelda Marcos. While she favored a tailored style, I don't think her personal preference influenced her suggestions to her customers. She was keenly aware of the appropriate attire for any and every occasion. She was a first class salesperson.

Sometime after Jane Kent moved to the gulf coast of southern Mississippi in the mid '60s, Mother went to work at the Eva Graham Shoppe. Later she would work for B & B Ltd., High Strung, Van-Atkins, Ima's, and the Gizmo Shop. Her forty plus years in sales were complimented by a side business of her own.

Mother did business as a wedding and event planner under the most appropriate name of Lawana's Touch. She had a knack for personalizing each reception, but you knew immediately if Lawana had 'touched' it. The hand written notes she left behind offer strong evidence that her planning process was meticulous and her attention to detail sharp. And she possessed tireless energy from the initial visit with a prospective bride to the last dance at the reception. Mother’s creative flair was magical. Her ‘hands on’ approach to the finished setting often astonished me. Seeing her sew tiny dresses for dolls that adorned reception tables to replicate the wedding party intrigued me. Watching her carefully iron table cloths with perfect creases made me tired. She was her own taskmaster.

I have no idea the number of weddings Mother oversaw throughout the years she was in business. But I do know that the 'touch' she brought to the many wedding receptions, rehearsal dinners, church socials, and community events was genuinely appreciated by the participants from the numerous thank you notes, cards, and letters I have uncovered in going through personal belongings in recent weeks.

I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

In addition to her work a day world, Lawana Miles was a devoted daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother, and friend to many. She was loyal to her family and 'worked' to gather them together at annual reunions for many years from the '50s through the mid '80s when my generation of cousins scattered well beyond the boundaries of Arkansas making such gatherings more difficult. Mother 'worked' equally as hard to include Lana's and my friends in every aspect of family. She looked upon our friends as her own and treated them as such. Family and friends were synonymous in our house.

The relationships with family and friends are, indeed, “the course of a lifetime.” Fathers are often looked upon as 'captains of the ship,' but mothers are the navigators. Mothers set the 'course' for most of us and provide guidance as we maneuver the peaks and valleys of the lifetime. Even though it is the natural order of things for a parent to walk off the end of life's pathway ahead of the child, it is heart wrenching to lose sight of them. In those instances when it is the child who runs out of sight of the parent on life’s winding road, it is heart breaking. To “let it be” runs contrary to the ways of the heart. Yet there is a smile among the tears in believing that Mother is in 'reunion' with loved ones who have passed on before her...her husband, her mother, her daughter...in the latter two instances, Mother and Child...Reunion.

Mentioning ‘reunion’ with my father, reminds me of my parents’ relationship. Mother was advised by her uncle, Dr. C. R. Gray, not to marry my dad. The advice was offered due to a congenital heart defect my father had that pointed toward a very short life expectancy. Mother listened, but set her own course. After a stay at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore in early 1958, my dad returned home with news that the medical staff was of opinion he only had months to live. Mother, with two young children at her side and pregnant with a third, experienced a fragile moment, but proved resilient in the long term. I recall my dad often saying, “I’m not going to die simply because a doctor tells me so.” He lived another 25 years after that verdict at Johns Hopkins. There were challenges with my father’s health throughout my parents 33 years of marriage and Mother proved a steadfast caretaker. I am so very grateful to my sister, Lana, for returning that favor to my mom in her time of need.

I just can't believe it's so
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

“Over and over again,” generation after generation, mothers set “the course of a lifetime.” Their eyes are trained upon a place “over the rainbow” where the “dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.” Just as “The Wizard of Oz” magically changes from a black and white film into glorious Technicolor, a mother’s dream bursts into the colors of the rainbow when faith, hope, and love collide. Isn’t it ironic that for the rainbow to come into full view, both sunshine and rain are required…smiles and tears. Faith, hope, and love are the key ingredients of a ‘mother and child reunion.’

In setting life’s course, a mother's 'true north' is hope. Hope that her children will know happiness and meet success on life's crooked pathway. Most know from their own experiences that there is no straight path to happiness and success. But most mothers are determined, and hopeful, in establishing that 'straight path,' knowing full well that the curious child is likely to stray. In the end, each generation cuts its own path. Mother certainly made her own way.

“No I would not give you false hope” must be a thought in every mother's mind as she dreams of the future for her children. Even in death I’m sure my mother is clinging to high hopes for Lana, her grandchildren, great grandchildren, and me. She was our biggest fan. Her style, simple yet elegant, will always grace my memory. Her radiant smile will forever illumine my heart.

Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away

A memorial service in honor and celebration of Mother’s life will be held on Monday, April 18, 2011 in the sanctuary of her beloved First United Methodist Church in Newport, Arkansas. The service (open to all) will begin at 1:00pm with a visitation immediately following in Fellowship Hall at the church. This event will mark Lawana’s final ‘party’ here on Earth. A reunion of her family and friends “is only a moment away.” All who ever knew her ‘touch’ is encouraged to be present. The redbuds and dogwoods are in full flower. “Hope springs eternal.”

Thank you, Mother, for pointing me in a good direction and allowing me to set my own course. You have always been my guiding light…even when I’m Miles from Nowhere.

May magical moments come your way. I wish you love and laughter…lots and lots of laughter!

joe

Precious Time

The year 2010 has come to its end. In these first few weeks of 2011, television anchors have been recounting the significant news stories of the year. Disc jockeys are cueing up the top songs of the year. Critics are preparing lists of the year’s best and worst movies. Newspapers have listings of the year’s notable deaths. It is time to pack up the memories constructed throughout the year and store them away.

Memories are pieces of time stitched together in a patchwork style, much like that of my grandmother’s quilts. There is no real pattern to most of my grandmother’s quilts, just remnants of cloth sewn together to create something useful out of scrap. Some of these old quilts have lost their luster over time. The brightly colored fabric has faded and regular use as bed coverings has yielded tears in the patches with the cotton batting exposed. Yet these old quilts are priceless works of art to me and many 'faded' memories come into brilliant focus when I look at them.

Reflecting on times past is a journey each of us travels alone. Even when we are reminiscing with old friends and reliving old times together, every remembrance has a personal slant. The importance of a single same event experienced by many is measured only from the vantage point of each individual engaged in remembering. And the ‘trigger’ for each recollection of a past moment is unique to the person holding the memory of that particular moment being recalled. Whether a happening from days gone by is considered ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ depends on personal perspective. We spend much time reflecting in the end…the end of a year, the end of school, the end of a job, the end of a love affair, the end of life.

Most often I look back in time through my ears. I’m confident that is true for many of you. A song comes on the radio. It immediately transports you to a distant time, an old familiar place.

It doesn’t matter what route you take
Sooner or later my heart’s gonna break
No rhyme or reason, no master plan
No nirvana, no promised land

I’ve been a Van Morrison fan since I first heard his music in the early ‘60s when he was the lead singer for the group Them. Songs like “Gloria” and “Baby Please Don’t Go” won’t let you forget them. His first solo chart topper, “Brown Eyed Girl,” released in 1967 remains a classic hit today. Van the Man’s songs pierce my heart and move my feet. Time passes freely when listening to Van Morrison’s music…and it passes swiftly. His song “Precious Time” released about a decade ago addresses the realities of living. My foot taps to its beat.

Regardless of the “route you take” on life’s pathway, I’m confident you will encounter love. Along the way, heartaches are sure to occur and even broken hearts will be experienced with “no rhyme or reason” attached. The cause and the cure for matters of the heart are in the same ‘potion.’ That ‘potion’ is love with all of its magical ingredients and its undefined properties reacting in unexplainable ways.

The peaks and valleys of life’s terrain are usually tied to relationships with loved ones and the happenings in their lives. A loved one is happy, your heart pounds with pride and lifts. A loved one experiences disappointment, your heart shakes and sinks. Simple. When one’s heart is broken, hope dissipates, visions of a “promised land” fade. When love repairs the broken heart, faith gains strength, you smile within.

In my life, 2010 was not unlike the other years I have known. In some respects, the twists and turns on the road of life were a bit sharper. Some of the ravines were a little deeper. Laughter and tears occasionally shared the same stage.

Uplifting gests during the year include welcoming a new grandchild into the world and watching his personality shine, moving into a new home and seeing the elation in my wife’s smile (it is her design that has come to life in the construction), having all four of our girls and their families present with us for Christmas (what a gift!), attending the 40th reunion of the Newport High School Class of 1970 with many aging littermates gathered together to celebrate lasting friendships and to remember times past.

Heart breaking moments were centered in the notices received when persons dear to me departed this life. While I like a good martini shaken, not stirred as inspired by the fictional James Bond, I prefer my heart to be stirred, not shaken by life’s events. Some deaths in 2010 shook my heart in seismic scale. Most notably, the passing from this life of my sweet forever friend and littermate Mary Wynne Parker Perryman, my fun loving and ageless Newport neighbor Margaret Van Dyke, and my devoted scout leader and mentor Bob Guthrie truly saddened my soul. My heart hurts for the families of classmate Bobby Ruddell, fun loving friends Edward Kinney and Mike Payne, former teachers Ima Jean Paige and Billy Hobbs, and NHS Class of 1971 pals Mary Lynn Pinkett, Danny Ray, and Calvin Roberts. Just in the last month of 2010, classmates Billy Matthews and John Sink lost their fathers, Mr. Wayne Matthews and Mr. Ralph Ford Sink, in death. And littermate Cherry Lou Smith Johnson’s beloved aunt, Mary Kunkel, departed this life. Mrs. Kunkel worked in the office of Newport High School for many years and was a loyal member of First United Methodist Church. She, along with the late Natalie Madison (mother of good friends Phil and David Madison), were the gatekeepers to the principal’s office during my school years and both served as ‘guardian angels’ for me and many others at church and school during those years.

I ask that you remember these individuals as we strike out into the unknown of future days. I’m sure many of you know of others I have failed to mention whose families need to be held close at heart. When news of Karon Adcox’s (NHS ’68) unexpected death was circulated among dear friends, Mike Dallas (NHS ’66) initiated a memorial guest book for Karon for the posting of condolences and remembrances. Karon’s memorial guest book can be found at www.legacy.com/guestbook/DignityMemorial/guestbook.aspx?n=karon-adcox&pid=146096305. You can also leave personal remembrances for Karon or any other deceased Newport graduate in the Memorial Garden section of the NHS alumni website at www.nhsalumni.net.

Que sera sera, whatever will be
But I keep searching for immortality
She’s so beautiful, but she’s gonna die someday
Everything in life, it just passes away

Our memories remain alive through our conversations whether in person or on network sites like the memorial pages mentioned above. The remembrances expressed by loving hearts among the living are essential elements of “immortality.” As I listen to the lyrics of "Precious Time" on this day I think of my mother and the beautiful person that she is. She has been gently knocking on Heaven's door for several months on end. Heaven's doorkeeper will answer that knock in His own 'precious time.' Yes, "everything in life, it just passes away," but those we love are immortal in our hearts.

Well this world is cruel with its twists and turns
But the fire's still in me and the passion still burns
I'll love her madly til the day I die
Til Hell freezes over, til the rivers run dry

My thoughts resemble one of my grandmother's quilts...no particular pattern...just colorful visages of beautiful people I've known and fascinating places I've seen randomly stitched together in my mind. I'm gathering my thoughts today in the aftermath of the tragic shooting rampage in Arizona at a constituent forum initiated by U. S. Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and her staff. Six people ranging in age from 9 to 79 lost their lives in a maniacal moment. I knew none of these people, but I think I shared the spirit of freedom with them all. There are those times when "this world is cruel," and this inexplicable instant in time is one of them. Yet this heart-breaking event has not dampened 'the fire' within me that burns with love for my fellow man and the America I call "home." "Home is where the heart is" is an ancient saying that resonates true. I'm sure folks everywhere across this country know the truth in this 'saying' whether they be from Tucson, Arizona or Anywhere, USA. The love that surrounded me as a youngster growing up in Newport, Arkansas influences my heart. Newport and her people inspired a sense of loyalty, provided me a safe haven, enabled me to forgive indiscretions, allowed my own errors in judgment to be forgiven, fostered tolerance amidst intolerable instances. I hold Newport in highest esteem and will "love her madly til the day I die."

A genuine reflection of this Newport 'spirit' can be found in the fictional pages of "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" authored by Newport native Dr. Judson Hout (NHS '53). "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" is a story about a relationship rooted in Jackson County and based on love and respect. For those who grew up in Jackson County in the 1940s, the place names and characters' names referenced in the book will rekindle memories. The experiences depicted ring just as true for those of us who grew up in the area in the 1950s and 1960s. While the Jackson County landscape has seen considerable change over the past 60 to 70 years, the heart and soul of the community remains full. My youngest daughter, Elizabeth, gifted me a copy of "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" at Christmas and I am grateful. Elizabeth really purchased me a ticket for a journey back in time to a place filled with fond memories. I encourage you to grab a copy of the book and take your own journey.

Precious time is slipping away
You know you're only king for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray
Because precious time is slipping away

Indeed "precious time is slipping away." In the first few days of this new year, two others, Mildred Holden and Maisie Manning, with whom I enjoyed caring Newport ties, have passed from my line of sight. Mildred is the mother of my childhood friend Carmen Holden (NHS '69) and her brothers Charles and Mike. She and my mother annually celebrated their birthdays together, along with their late friend Margaret Van Dyke, the last week of November each year. What a trio of funny ladies! Maisie is the wife of my former scoutmaster Van Manning and stepmother to friends Susan (NHS '78) and Mark (NHS '75). Maisie had a fun loving attitude true to the spirit of a Razorback cheerleader, which she had been. Both Mildred and Maisie were talented pianists. I'm thinking Heaven's music is being jazzed up a bit since their arrival.

This past weekend I traveled over to Newport to attend a surprise birthday party for long time pal and fraternity brother John Pennington. Friends from far and near gathered at the Depot in downtown Newport to celebrate the occasion. A good time was had by all in attendance. I salute John's wife, Sue, and their children, Lindsay and John Ward, for planning the fun affair and crowning John "king for a day" in honor of his sixtieth birthday. Oh yeah, John's twin brother, Bruce, is also sixty. Boy howdy, this "precious time is slipping away."

Time spent with friends and loved ones is the most "precious time" on the clock's face. With the snow falling outside my window on this cold winter's day, I think I will wrap myself up in a patchwork quilt of memories, relax, and take up "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" for a second reading. I can already feel the smile on my face warming my heart. Enjoy the day!

I'm Miles from Nowhere.... guess I'll take my "precious time"......
joe