I have often talked and written of my Granny and Grandpa Tharpe, my mom’s folks, as I have tried to relate what truths I could from the Word of God. I have mentioned Mom and Dad, as well, and some of the lessons that they taught me that helped produce the man I am today, for good or bad. I have even mentioned my Grandmother Rowell from time to time when it suited the lesson; but there is one member of the family I seldom, if ever, have mentioned and that would be my Grandpa Rowell, Willie Waldo Rowell, by name.
This failure on my part is not due to any bad memories or anything of that ilk. It simply stems from the fact that I was not able to get to know my Grandpa Rowell very well before he suffered a stroke back in 1972 when I was still little more than a boy.
During my childhood, Grandma and Grandpa Rowell had an interesting relationship. To tell the truth, I never quite figured it out. All I remember is that Grandma was always to be found out at the beach cottage a few miles down the road from the Hathaway Bridge in Panama City Beach, while Grandpa frequented a single wide trailer on the outskirts of Tallahassee. He said he had to stay there for work even though I was never sure what business Grandpa was in. I do know that at one time in his life he owned the Nash and Rambler dealership in Panama City, and that he worked in the government doing something or other. He never struck me as the secret agent type, but who knows?
I have always held to the belief that the trailer was a refuge of sorts for Grandpa. You see, according to my mom, Grandpa was a bit of a rascal; and Grandma was the definition of a Florida blue blood, if ever there was one. How they ever got together, only the Lord knows; but I’m glad they did, or I would only be half the man I am today.
To tell the truth I only really knew Grandpa Rowell after the stroke, and as sometimes happens, the stroke left Grandpa confined to a wheelchair and none too happy about it. My Mom always said that Grandpa Rowell was as close as she had ever come to a best friend, so I figure in his prime he must have been something to behold because my mother had particular taste in people, and she would have set some high standards for friendship.
All of that being said, I began to develop my picture of Grandpa Rowell at his funeral. You can tell a lot by a person’s funeral. Yogi Berra was once quoted as saying: “Always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t come to yours.” Unusual logic aside, my Grandpa Rowell must have gone to a lot of other folk’s funerals because they sure turned out for his.
I don’t remember anything that was said during the service, but I do remember a line of cars that must have stretched out for miles as folks followed Grandpa to his final resting place. I remember being truly touched by the thought that all of those folks would come out to pay their respects to the memory of my Grandpa.
Some years passed before I approached my Dad and asked him a question that I had carried ever since the funeral. On one of those rare occasions when a teenage boy and his father were not at odds, I simply asked why so many people had loved and respected Grandpa. Dad did not hesitate. His answer was succinct and to the point. He simply said, “My father was a man of his word.”
That didn’t mean much to me back then, to be honest; but as I have grown into adulthood and made my way, I have come to understand just how rare a commodity a “man of his word” is in this world. I am proud that my Grandfather Rowell and my father stand in the ranks with such men. I can only hope that I can stand so tall.
I suppose the message in all of my rambling is simply this: Be who you say you are. Be a man or woman of your word. If you claim it, be it. If you claim Christ as your Lord and Savior, then live like it. “Simply let your ‘Yes be Yes,’ and your ‘No, No’. Anything beyond this comes from the evil one.” (Matt 5:37)
In a world where dishonesty and lack of commitment are watchwords, being a man or woman of your word is one of the best witnesses you can be for Christ. I know it sounds simple, and it is, but never compromise your integrity. Always live as Christ would have you live, and perhaps one day your grandson or granddaughter will marvel at the line of cars following you home!
Tony Rowell
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