January 17 '04
Volume 398
Mrs. Opal
Warren Former Pew Buddy Dies
On January
05, 2004, Mrs. Opal Warren passed from this life into eternity.
She died at age 88 after a brief illness. Barbara and I had visited her home
on December 23rd. We found her mentally alert, mobile, and in
relatively good health. Though advanced in age, that she would live only
two more weeks was certainly not considered by either of us.
Miss Opal was a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas and wanted her
family at her house for the holiday. However, as her children had children
and her grandchildren became scattered across the country, she adapted. If
everyone could be there on Christmas Day, fine, but if another day worked
better, she didn’t mind. She told Barbara and me that her folks would
be over for dinner on Christmas Eve. She also said she wasn’t able to
do the cooking this year and had made arrangements to have the meal catered.
Miss Opal and I had much in common, which may account for our friendship.
If she had something to say she didn’t mind saying it, and tact was
not her strong suit. She read my newsletter, but was never a subscriber,
as her daughter, Leoda Morrow, shared her copy.
After reading an article about my most recent dental crown, she told Aunt
Jo, "Tell Wayne to get him some false teeth and stop writing about how much
his teeth are costing him."
She was a generous individual, generous with her time and her possessions
and not just with her family. Miss Opal had a huge fig tree in her
backyard, and for the past several years told Barbara and me, as the figs
began to ripen, to come over and help ourselves to them before they were
all gone. One year, she gave us a shoot from her fig tree, which we planted
in our backyard at our former home on 8th Street. It almost died
from lack of care and was just beginning to "take hold" when we moved to
"The Circle." I didn’t choose to move it for fear it wouldn’t survive,
so we left it to be cared for by the new owner.
Miss Opal maintained a good sense of humor even in the midst of turmoil,
and I don’t recall an occasion when we were together that laughter
wasn’t present. I can’t remember what we laughed about on December
23rd, but I remember we laughed together. If laughter truly is
"the best medicine," then laughter may account for her longevity.
Among my fondest memories of Mrs. Opal Warren were those times just prior
to choir practice on Wednesday evenings as choir members slowly made their
way into the choir room and took their respective seats. It may have been
fifteen years or so since then, but I can still hear her voice echoing in
my mind. Her husband W.H. "Juicy" Warren had died in 1978. He was an avid
fisherman, so I don't know that "Juicy" took care of all the outdoor work
required of a homeowner, but I have the feeling he did. Following the loss
of her husband, Miss Opal's son-in-law, Billy Morrow, may have helped her
as well; at least he did until such time his battle with Lou Gehrig's disease
incapacitated him.
"I need me a yard boy. Does anybody know where I can find one?" Miss Opal
would wail in pseudo-desperation.
I always imagined that Miss Opal had been working in the yard earlier that
day or was remembering her struggles over the prior weekend, but her refrain
seems to ring as loudly in my mind today as it did in the choir room years
ago.
I don't recall the reason Miss Opal stopped singing in the Adult Choir, but
I imagine it was health-related, likely something to do with hip or knee
replacement that would have made climbing the stairs from the choir room
to the sanctuary difficult. Yet, it wasn't long after she dropped out of
the choir, that, due to Barbara and I living in the Delta throughout the
week, I also gave up my choir robe and took a seat in the congregation. I
sat on the same pew as Miss Opal, who at the time could always be found seated
alongside Mrs. Shirley McCord and Mrs. Bea Merchant.
I could always count on Miss Opal to have something to say before the service
started, and a lot of times she initiated the conversation telling me about
something pertaining to her working in her yard.
In our days as "pew buddies" we saw two or three preachers come and go, and
with each new one, she was apt to ask me, "Well, how do you like this one?"
She didn’t seem to mind that I was a little reserved in heralding the
coming of a new preacher, and she would often endorse the newcomer with,
"I think he’s gonna’ do fine!"
Miss Opal was a regular phone-friend to my Aunt Jo Collins and would occasionally
call me. Sometimes she’d chat with Barbara, if I were not at home, and
it was Barbara who made the connection between Miss Opal’s quick demise
and her abrupt way of ending a phone conversation.
"Do you remember how Miss Opal would call and talk for a few minutes and
then when she got ready to get off the phone she’d say, ‘Well,
that’s all I needed. Bye,’ then hang up before you squeeze in a
word?" Barbara observed. "She lived her life, and when she got ready to die,
it’s almost like she said, "That’s all, bye!" and it was over.
On Thursday, January 8th I had the honor to serve as pallbearer
at her funeral. As funeral services go, Miss Opal’s was rather plain
or uncomplicated. Ellouise Dallas beautifully played a number of piano
selections, some of which tugged our heartstrings, as we contemplated the
passing of Miss Opal. Dr. Ken Hester of First Baptist Church, Pontotoc, was
the officiant.
Dr. Hester, in eulogizing Miss Opal, recalled his having asked her about
seeing her husband when she got to Heaven.
"Do you think Juicy will be waiting for you inside the Pearly Gates?" he
asked.
"No, he’ll probably be fishing," she humorously quipped.
I doubt, I’ll be allowed to pass from this world to the next as easily
and gracefully as Miss Opal, but when I reach the other side I plan on visiting
Miss Opal and Mr. Juicy. I’m pretty certain where to find them. If
there’s a fishing lake in Heaven, Juicy will be on it, and if there’s
a riding lawnmower and grass around her mansion, Miss Opal will be cutting
grass.
Signing
Concern Praiseworthy Or Not
It was a loaded question, but I felt prepared to answer it, because I had
earlier shared my opinion on the topic with a few folks. It was New Years
Day. Jim Hess had driven up from Vicksburg to visit that afternoon and spend
the night with us. It was also the day I mailed out the Ridge Rider News.
Jim drove me to the main Post Office in Pontotoc, and afterwards we stopped
by the home of Ellouise and Devan Dallas. That reminds me, have you ever
stopped to think why it is that we think of some couples as husband/ wife
and others as wife/ husband? For example, there’s Dot and Jerry Bell,
but it’s Joel and Shirley Hale. It may be Wanda and Bobby Davis, but
it’s Kenneth and Louise Prewett, or in my case, Wayne and Barbara Carter.
Does it have to do with speech rhythms, spousal dominance, personal deference
to one individual, or some other factor? If you have an answer, I’m
interested, because I don’t have it figured out.
Anyway, the question Ellouise asked me was, "What do you think of signing?"
Ellouise was referring to an irregular practice in our church for an individual
or group of individuals to use American Sign Language as a secondary or
supplementary method of praise, especially with regard to our Music Ministry.
I’ve seen children’s choirs and the Youth Choir engaged in signing
and certain members of the Adult Choir and some soloists use signing
simultaneously with singing. I don’t know enough sign language to use
it, and I doubt I’m coordinated enough to employ it at the same time
I’m singing.
The most recent use of signing that I’ve seen in our church was the
Sunday morning before Christmas as the Men’s Trio sang, "I Have Seen
The Light" and a fourth person signed and mouthed the
words.
Why Ellouise didn’t ask Jim, a bona fide Minister of Music, the question,
I don’t know, but since I was asked, I answered.
"I have to put signing in the same category
as speaking in tongues," I remember saying. "If there’s no one present
to interpret what’s being said, speaking in tongues has no place in
a worship service."
I realize that signing is different in that worshipers receive both visual
and auditory input and an interpreter is not required, but I went on to state
that we don’t have any deaf members in our congregation, and I see no
spiritual basis for signing unless a ministry need exists. I know I’m
on sound Biblical ground with regard to speaking in tongues, as the Apostle
Paul addressed this matter in the early days of the Christian
Church.
In churches today, signing may be viewed as an extension of our ability to
praise God, and I would not disagree that it is an acceptable form of worship
by an individual in what we perceive are the eyes of God. Whether or not
it has a place in corporate worship, I find debatable and subject to precedent
of the Biblical example of speaking in tongues.
For years, many churches have utilized signing to minister to church members
who are deaf. Likewise, urban churches with a TV ministry that broadcasts
to a regional audience often feed a small image in a corner of the TV screen
of the person signing that which is spoken or sung. In such instances, signing
is a part of the ministry of the church, but in my opinion, signing falls
short of qualifying as a ministry in our church.
Ellouise may be ten years my senior, but she’s still a beautiful woman,
and she has a beautiful smile.
It’s her smile that I best remember after she patiently listened to
my answer, before her almost angelic response, "I like it. She (referring
to the signer) has such a sweet spirit about her, and her movements are so
graceful that at one point I almost cried."
Clearly, Ellouise has a better appreciation for signing than do I, and knowing
Ellouise is a more gifted musician than I would be if I had five lifetimes,
I chose to reply with humor.
"You know, I watched her as the trio began singing. Larry always opens that
selection with a solo part before George comes in with his tenor voice and
later Joel rounds out everything with his bass voice. I kept watching her
signing to see if I could pick-up on when she added the other parts, but
I didn’t see it. Did you?" I asked facetiously.
"No, I didn’t either," Ellouise responded,
laughing at my absurdity.
Ellouise and I aren’t likely to agree on the signing issue but that
doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends, respect each other, and
in the Christian sense, love one another. She respects my point of view and
I respect hers. Signing, as a form of praise, is something either of us can
live with or live without, but given my druthers, I’d choose to live
without it.
Bodock Beau
Baby's Earache
My family physician told me of an incident that actually happened to him
back in the early days of his practice. He said a woman brought her baby
to see him, and he determined right away that the baby had an
earache.
He wrote a prescription for eardrops, "Put two drops in right ear every four
hours," and he abbreviated 'right' as an R inside a
circle.
Several days passed, and the woman returned with her baby, complaining that
the baby still had an earache, and his little bottom was getting really greasy
with all those drops of oil.
The doctor looked at the bottle of eardrops, and sure enough the pharmacist
had typed the following instructions on the label, "Put two drops in R ear
every four hours."
Contributed by Kim Goslin
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