10:00 AM, Monday, April 1, 2013)
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First,
three disclaimers.
I
am not really sure why I am up here - a doctor does not operate on his
father, a plumber's house has leaky faucets - and here I am a pastor talking at
my dad's funeral.
Well,
as Lynn (his pastor) said when he visited us about the service and looked at
our order of worship - he started to say normally we. . . and caught himself in
mid sentence and said with the Banks, normal goes out the window.
We
are indeed a different normal and Pop (my name for him), Papa (the grandkids name
for him), Dad (my brother David’s name for him), Daddy (my sister Judy’s name
for him), and Joe or Josephus when he was in trouble (Mom’s names for him) was the chief executive officer of the
different normal.
Second, this is not everything.
These are the bubbles that have risen to the surface and popped at contact with
the air like a good beverage – like club soda and Dr. Pepper and some others.
These are the ones I share, and you will have your own and Bob Majors (his best
friend) and Lynn Hill (his pastor) will have their own and as each pop at the
surface, Pop lives on.
Third, sometimes I get lost in my
world of enjoying and sharing the wonders of this world. It is my calling and
passion and purpose. If so, even though my daughter warned - now don't you say
anything crazy up there - chat with me and I will try to clarify later.
Let’s
begin. For starters, I was a little nervous this morning - maybe a lot - not
because of what I would say or try to say because Pop always told me to do my
best and everything would be allright. He was talking about my grades (I made a
few B's along the way and that was okay as long as I did my best). But that
advice has permeated to all the things I do. It is in my pores, it is in my
blood, Pop put it in my DNA. And I am never satisfied unless it is my best.
What
I am nervous about is my shoes. You see Pop could put a shine on your shoes
that - "you can see your face in." I would bring shoes to him on my
biannual visits that looked like they had no hope. After twenty or thirty whoos
and “Son, these look rough! he would bring them back to me so new that they
looked they he had done some kind of switch.
(Aside)
Pop, I will try to do better with my shoes since you are not around to polish
them.
I
am here before you because it is my job - each of us in the family have a job.
I
will probably never know about the countless arrangements for this funeral (to
include making sure all of us had proper attire) for the day to day finances
and long term plans. - that is my brother's job along with taking Mom places
when Pop was no longer able. I do not need to know all these details, they were
taken care of; it was David’s job. And he did it very, very well. Dave, Dad
would want to say thanks for a job well done.
I
will probably never know all the countless love and hug sessions through good
times and bad, in the day and in the night with Mom and Pop along with the
bulletin for this service and the slide show last night. I do not need to know all the details; it was
Judy’s job. And she did it very, very well. Judy, Daddy would want to say
thanks for a job well done.
I
will probably never know all the million and one times over the last 62 years
that Pop has been cared for (for better for worse - takes on a whole new
meaning with him). He could be as gentle as a lamb in public yet he could give
a whole new meaning to grumpy old man in private. It did not matter. Being his
life mate with infinite patience and love, Mom did it very, very well even to
her last time with him when she sat all afternoon with him even after he went
into la-la land after his sumptous last meal of sweet tea and chocolate ice
cream. Mom, Joe, Josephus, would want to
say thank you, Patricia, for a job well done.
So
what job is left for me? Literally, I am the one who fixes things - hang
ceiling fans, repair mysterious holes in the wall, building decks, etc., etc.,
etc.
Pop
got me started at 10 when he sent me up on the ladder with a bucket and brush
to paint the gable end since he was afraid of heights. It proved to be an
invaluable gift that sustained me in rough times as I painted houses on the
side for extra income and rebuilt just about every home I have lived in – my
kids can tell you that.
At
one point several years ago when I hit the door Pop started on his list. After
hanging about the eighth ceiling fan Mom finally had to tell him, “would you at
least greet him first and sometimes just let him just visit!” Pop gave me the
job like the others, and he let me know the job I was called to - I fixed
other things too. Son, “you are the peacemaker in the family; you always
know what to say and how to make peace.”
That
is why I am here before you - I cannot fix Pop leaving - And by the way he did
that in his own way with a personal touch for each of us. I cannot fix
this, but I can share the peace Pop accepted toward the end. He let other
members of the family have special times with him. For David, in 2006 when all
the rest of us were tired of hearing his stuff and about his troubles, Dad came
and rescued him and help put him in a place where he could live again. For
Judy, there were special private times that in the right time and place she
will share because these created even a bigger, very caring heart.
I
was not around so often so he did something tailored for me. Knowing the end
might be near and wanting to spend quality time with him while he was lucid I
did something I rarely do - miss school - (I am a high school physics and
chemistry and biology and botany teacher by day). It was one of the best visits
I ever had - I fixed lots of things and connected with Pop in very special ways
and made peace with that as well. I promised him I would come back at Easter
Break. He knew I was coming.
He waited for me.
He
smiled when me and my daughter came in and called us by name. He could no
longer suck through a straw so he let me dip the straw in the sweet tea and
hold the end to let the change in pressure hold in the tea, and let it go when
it was in his mouth. He would just turn to me and make eye contact or open his
mouth to let me know he wanted more. 50 or 60 special annointings of tea with
Pop were my special time. As Mom fed him spoons of chocolate ice cream on the
other side. That was appropriately his last meal - he loved the three C’s –
Coins. He collected them for years - he had tears
in his eyes for days when he had to sell his lifelong collection.
Cars.
He knew the name of ever make and model from 1929 to a time when they
all blended together and looked alike. He
treated each of his cars as a treasure
from the brand new 54 chevy he bought right
before I was born since Father-in-law would not let his daughter date or marry
anyone who drove a Ford
to the 59 white plymouth fury with fins
to the push button Dodge
to the 62 Studebaker with three on the tree on which I
learned to drive
to the Marina Blue Chevy that I got to drive in
high school without power steering and
to the Gold Caprice Classic that he sold to me with
regular payments - yes sold –
He was an accountant par excellence and knew
every
penny he spent in his ledgers.
Some numbered few might balance their check to the penny. Pop balanced his life to the penny. These cars he cleaned
methodically to include a toothbrush on the running boards under the place
where the door closes. Breathing was under audit when you rode in his cars.
And the third C – chocolate.
Chocolate in any form. His
favorite was chocolate pie that mom always made on their anniversary. And
hershey kisses whose wrappers he trailed on the floor to lead to wherever he
was. When he nibbled at his 62nd anniversary pie and when the hershey kisses
bowl was full, everyone knew he was getting ready to go home.
He saved the best for last for me. To do my teaching
job for the last 25 years most days I get up at five - my students wonder why
in the world I do - it is simple and deep, to have my time of meditation to get
ready for the day and who knows what that the day and the youngsters will bring
On Saturday a day I would usually sleep in to maybe
something crazy like 6 or even 7. Pop wanted to say one last time how proud he
is of me for doing what I do. The phone rang. Pop at passed at five
o'clock. One son got up to do his calling once again and one father did his
last job before going home – to remind me how proud he is of what I do – I will
reminded of his going home time each day I start my day.
Pop always taught me to let my kids know how proud I
am of them because that is always what he did for his number one son. Mary,
Matthew, Chris, Shelby, Jake, do you know how proud Papa was of you. If you do
not hear that you, as Shelby used to tell Papa, need to put on your listening
ears.
(Aside) Dad always taught me to sign my name not John
Banks as to confuse with others but John R. Banks. Joe G. Banks message communicated.
And I close with this; one of my most special memories
of pop. When I was twelve, I was at my first time away from home in Memphis at
scout camp in Arkansas several hours away. After work, in the dark, he drove those miles
and navigated the gravel road where the stream crossed in several places to
camp - maybe in that 59 Fury – I do not remember but I remember this. I got a
call to come to the dining roll. There was Pop, to my great surprise and joy.
The first thing I did was take him to the open field and point out every
constellation I had learned. His comment was, "Son, these stars are as big
as grapefruits."
A
line we fondly recall and will in the days ahead. To see the
constellations, one has to connect the dots of the stars. In this life we are
given lots of stars to look up to and admire - and the way we humans with our
limited vision and understanding do that is to connect them various patterns -
Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Cassepeia, family, friends, church. All from the
reference point of the North Star where altitude and latitude juxtapose that
have guided countless sailors and other travelers from time on end.
The
way I fix this, make peace of this is to know the stars are connected in
patterns we can understand - not through accomplishments though
pleasurable, not through money and possession though necessary, but through
relationships that sustain and keep us and help us not only do our best
(polished shoes or no) but be our best.
I am so grateful that Pop, my Father, our Father, Husband, Grandfather is/was
one of those relationships. Sealed forever with our Heavenly Father, Heavenly
Parent - Creator and Sustainer of all things. When you look at the stars in the
sky and in your life - remember this and you will be the best God intended.
And
to paraphrase my favorite Irish blessing.
May
the stars be beneath your feet and may God hold you in the palm of your hands
until we meet again. Amen
Great work John.
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