November
How nearly now the end has come
In youth time dragged but now flies fast
Will finally this one year Oh! be the last
As on to trek from whence I’m come
In winter time where it did begin
Through all good day and then another
Can’t toll the time which marches farther
And, suddenly, we’re nearly there again
To feel so ready, then not at all
Does it really start where it does end
A race to only find round circle send
While spirits soar must mankind fall
Most lovely time in this year’s life
Machiavellian ends justified by means
Black soul to white Holy Water cleans
Free yearning spirit now from strife
Thanksgiving proper place for praise
Import to hit each note in leaps and bounds
Empty space between is where the music sounds
Exemplar deeds faith’s trail to blaze
Thank God for sparing unfathomed trepidation
Charmed life, ’tis true, I know not why
His grace bestowed on one such as I
Understand not but accept true His Revelation
Amen!
Plus:
Day 319
Nashville,
Tennessee-bound; actually Mt. Juliet
to visit Uncle
Randell, Aunt Gloria, Lisa & Jimmy Lee
We
seemed to find “Joy!” in every little thing---just Lucky?...Nah! Exceedingly Blessed!
I
was born in Nashville and have a plethora of cousins still living there; we
visited often.
When
I was a kid and our family went to see Granny & Granddaddy several times a
year, we would load up the old 1950 dark blue chariot with clothes enough for a
week, or so, and a large trunk choc-full of fresh garden vegetables; 7 ½
hard-hours later we’d arrive for fun and games.
As
time passed, the roads and the vehicles improved and the trip shortened to 4 ½
hours.
We
had a close familial relationship with my Tennessee-clan members; it was a
family reunion and that meant seeing all
the people of the “Southern”-tribe with the accent-drawl.
The
kids played a lot of ball; Dad would buy a rubber ball and I’d either bring a
repaired baseball bat from home or we’d manage to find a broom-stick or
shovel-handle for a bat. Sometimes we played in Granny’s backyard; often, we
went to Shelby park to a big field. We played a game called “stick-ball”;
nothing fancy---no gloves, no score…just fun. Ah! Memories!
There
was always plenty of food, decent sleeping arrangements, family, fun and Love!
As
I grew, my relationship with Uncle Randell coalesced to a “friend”-ship which
deepened.
We
stayed at his house after my grandparents passed; our kids and his children
enjoyed one another; we still managed several trips a year and they came up and
celebrated Thanksgiving.
Uncle
Randell was the kind of man I sincerely hope I approach being; jovial, generous,
kind and loving. He had a sharp wit and an amazing sense-of-humor; we shared
many a laugh. Five years after his demise, I still miss him and think of him,
often.
One
particularly amusing story comes from a time when we held a family reunion at
Uncle Randell’s brand new home which was a spectacular achievement; the wrap
around back porch provided the setting for the large gathering celebrating
Randell’s birthday and the reunion.
The
reunion day also just happened to be a lottery-draw day with a $60 million
jackpot. Now, Tennessee did not subscribe to a lottery at that time, but,
neighboring Kentucky did so.
I
started talking about the huge jackpot and tried to enlist fellow partiers to
join in a “pool” for buying chances on the lottery to be drawn that evening.
Uncle Randell was somewhat reluctant to join in the endeavor; my brother, also
a “wit” and sporting a great “sense-of-humor” tried to cajole Randell to join
in the fun event; Uncle refused.
I
announced, in an effort to recruit our reluctant uncle to sin, “It’s $60
million dollars!”
Brother
John inquired of uncle, “Randell, what would you do with $60 million?”
As
the entire contingency laughed at the friendly banter, Randell offered a
humorous deadpan reply without missing a beat, “Why, Johnny! I’d pay half my bills!” He looked dead serious.
That
brought the house down---the crowd erupted in exuberant laughter…Randell had
money.
Well!
He saved his dollar---we all lost our
stupid investment…in a word: Losers!
Save uncle.
We
ate a mountain of cold cuts on our visits to Tennessee; watermelon, too, at
Shelby Park.
Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “The South shall rise
again!” Memories!
Saintly Blessing!
(A Tribute)
In loving memory
of a Southern Gentleman:
Mr.
Randell Houston Farrell
(July 4,
1934-March 12, 2013)
Embracing shadow
cast a humble love, his own true measure
Saintly touched
so many lives an ever-present gifted treasure
Respectful kind
exemplar Nashville-Kid quite fine
Most
generous-spirit aura brightly golden halo shine
Remember sacred
legacy of noble Randell’s gentle pleasure
Amen!
Respectfully,
with Love, forever,
Carl, Candy, Z.
Tyler, Marguerite & all the Family
Happy Birthday!
Gentleman-Uncle Randell
(July 4, 2010)
I often tell a
story in which I admit that there are five people I have known with whom I
might have teamed to conquer the world. One of them is you. Oh! We were never
any real threat, thank God. Three states distance pretty much precluded any
possibility of a concerted effort.
I learned some
important things about life from you. Being polite is foremost in my mind. In
my youth I often heard you say “Yes, Sir” and “No, ma’am” when addressing
people, even when they were younger than you. That made an impression on me; it
speaks to your upbringing and says a lot about your character. It takes a “man”
to be honestly humble, as you are.
I know your
family truly loves you and appreciates all that you and Gloria do for them.
From my perspective, you are one of the most generous people I have ever known.
I try to emulate that virtue, too. To openly give of yourself is the only
perfect gift we can offer; you do it admirably, quietly, subtly, without
fanfare. That trait adds quality to your life and provides warm comfort to
those around you. We all love you for it.
Your honesty in
life is pure instinct. Your off-the-cuff comments are hilarious and your story
telling ability is unsurpassed. I love to converse with you and listen to you
talk with other people; the experience is enjoyable, educational and
informative in many respects. At a family reunion, Brother John teasingly asked
what you would do if you won the sixty million dollar lottery jackpot. You did
not miss a beat and out popped, “Why! I’d pay half my bills.”
I have used that
line many times when playing the lottery comes up.
Thank you. (And,
Yes! I always credit you with the witticism.)
You and cousin-Walter
came to visit one time and installed a new roof on our garage. I was seventeen
and had a car Mom got for me; funny how she never needed one until I turned
sixteen and started driving. Anyhow, it looked sharp with pin striping outside
and on the dash. It had spinner wheel covers on the front and chrome baby moons
under fender skirts on the rear. You drove and bragged on her so much that I
gained a new respect for it. I had a great car, a beautiful girl (whom I later
married) and to top it all off, a very “Cool” uncle from Tennessee.
I do not know if
you can strum a guitar and sing, and very definitely I do not want to ever see
you swivel your hips, but that dude from down Memphis-way had nothing on you
when it came to “Cool!”. He could have taken lessons from the “Nashville Kid”.
He was a gospel crooner king; my Uncle Randell is “Mr. Cool!”
We always had a
great time. Money was scarce as snow on July 4th. We would scare up
a dollar for a watermelon, chip ice over it and sit on granny’s porch and party
while the kids chased fireflies. Sometimes we picnicked at Shelby Park; Mom
still makes the best-ever southern fried chicken. Fun and family is never about
money; it is all about “Attitude!” Once people learn that simple truth,
happiness and fond, worthwhile memories follow automatically. They do for
me---each…and, very day. Dawn promises myriad events which become the adventure
pursued.
One time you
helped me mow the farm lawn; three and a half acres. You were relieved when we
got done; then Dad pointed to a sixty acre wheat field and said that we still
had that to do. You deftly replied, “When you get your half done, let me know,
and then I’ll do mine.”
Once I rode with
you to Peoria in a Luby-Cowin big rig; your handle was “Dr. Feel Good” on the
CB radio. Then, on to Tennessee where Candy waited having driven down with Mom.
You had a red Ford Galaxy convertible three speed, gave me the keys without any
restriction and said, “Have fun.”
On Sunday we
took it to the Hermitage. I returned a similar favor to kids many times over
the years and gave mention that Uncle Randell had taught me something about
generosity. I thank you and I’m sure those boys and girls do, too.
You are like Z.
Tyler in that everybody loves you. I guess that is why you and he hit it off so
well. We speak of you often and enjoy the stories. He and the girls are such a
blessing. A very smart man once advised, “God sends the people we need when we
need them.” Amen!
Finally, Uncle
Randell is one of the finest and nicest men I have ever known. A true southern
gentleman. And, that is not a tribute that I often convey to anyone.
So, Happy
Birthday, young man! We wish you many, many more. Amen!
God bless! Love, Carl & Candy & All
P.S.- Becky read
this and said I forgot something; I did. So, with apology, here it is:
When we lived on
our Maeystown farm, you came to visit. We went horseback riding and I gave you
Commander, a big, blood-bay gelding. And, boy! Did you ride him. When you left
he said that he never knew he could run that fast---or…far! He asked if you
were ever coming back to ride again. A few days later I found his saddle bags
packed and a note about running away to Colorado. He denied that he wrote it,
but his signature hoof print betrayed his culpability.
God bless you! God help me! Please!
