A Man Named Jerry

I had a much more positive blog (and I'll put it up later), but as today is a day for remembering, I felt the need to share this with you. It was the eulogy my uncle gave at my father's service last year and recently sent to me (along with two of my favorite photos)

The year has gone by so fast. I can't believe all the things that have changed. It seems like he should still be around especially since this was his favorite time of year and was usually very busy outside playing in the yard and gardens.

Jerry L. E.

January 30, 1947-March 29, 2010

10:00 a.m., Saturday, June 26, 2010

Woodlawn Cemetery

Laurel, Mississippi

Eulogy

We gather here today to commemorate the life of Jerry L. E. He was a husband, father, brother, uncle or friend to many here today. During the final weeks of his life he and I talked on the phone a few times. On one of those calls he asked me to officiate at his burial service. I commented to him at the time that I couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t bury me. You see, all of us are under the same sentence that Jerry faced. But, at the time Jerry’s mortality was more predictable than mine. As sure as I am standing here, someday you and I will be the object of one of these services. I have stood in this cemetery many times. Some who stood here with me before have already gone on.

While all of us wonder how we will face end-of-life issues, few of us will be able to do it with the resolve and concern for his/her family that I heard in Jerry’s voice that night.
He didn’t ask if I would say certain flattering things. Funerals and memorial services are often exercises in exaggerations and extremes—and understandably so. We want to remember the best about a person.

He also didn’t ask me to be silent on any subjects either. Jerry was honest about his feelings and he didn’t hide things. He fought valiantly against cancer. He was passionate about his will to live. He was angry at how unfair all of this was.
Unfair could easily have been the “watchword” for Jerry’s life—if he would have let it. It was unfair that he was born with eye sight problems and hearing loss. It seems unfair that he had more than his portion of accidents, injuries and surgeries across his life. It was unfair that he had to give up bowling with his friends or working outside during the last months that he lived. It was unfair that he experienced as much pain as he did.

And, while on occasion he would give in to the overwhelming gravity of it all, he was valiant. He was concerned, D., with how you would go on. He was concerned about how hard all of this would be on you. As well, he was worried, Kimba and K., about your futures and your well-being. He knew you were strong and could take care of yourselves, but still he was your Dad and he wanted to be there for you. He tried to make as many decisions as he could toward the end so that none of us would be burdened with making them.

You know, nothing reveals the character and nature of a person like hard days. Hard days don’t really create problems, they reveal character. Jerry didn’t blame others for his misfortunes. He wasn’t mad at the world for having cancer. It wasn’t that he found it easy to face the trials it presented, but he found it easy to take it in stride. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have his “moments,” it just means he didn’t stay there and wallow in it.

All of us know that Jerry was a huge fan of the Andy Griffith Show. From time of its original airing in the sixties to the turmoil of the present day, there’s something about Andy Griffith and the Mayberry mob that attracted Jerry. In preparing for today, I did a little research about the show. Except for Andy, the cast was an accumulation of odd characters—misfits in many ways. Life hadn’t been exactly fair to most of them.
Barney: anxious, high-strung and reactionary. Aunt Bee: a worry wart and a hand-wringer. Gomer : simple-minded, Pollyannaish, gullible. Goober: well, his name says it all! Otis was the drunk. Ernest T. Bass, the rock-throwing, gas-can-playing hillbilly. All of them were unmarried, divorced or widowed. They each had idiosyncrasies that drove others crazy. Why would anyone like this show?
But, Andy showed us week by week that almost anything can be overcome. It’s the old, “make lemonade out of lemons.” Andy kept forgiving Floyd the barber for never getting his sideburns even. Andy constantly ran interference between Barney’s bungling and the dismayed Mayberry public. Andy didn’t make the craziness go away; he just helped everyone manage it…and often find good in it.

All of us like to think we’re like Andy. We’re the good sense, sound judgment, and wise advice. None of us sees ourself as Barney, Goober or Ernest T. Bass. Yet, truth be told, we’re all somewhere between the ideal of Andy and the reality of the rest of the Mayberry crowd. I have learned over the years to see the weakness and shortcomings of others as their strengths—just carried to the extreme. The one I see as arrogant sees himself as confident. The one I see as lazy sees herself as relaxed and laid back. The ones I find pushy see themselves as assertive.

Some people wish for the “good ol' days” that Mayberry represented. We stand in places like this cemetery and wish for times gone by. But, in the case of the Andy Griffith Show the sixties were anything but “good.” The threat of nuclear annihilation, civil unrest, and political assassinations were just a few realities of the turbulent sixties. But it was during this time that The Andy Griffith Show enjoyed its primetime success.

Perhaps it's not the "good ol' days" what people yearn for. Maybe it's the forgiveness, helpfulness, understanding, neighborliness, kindness, propriety, and moral values that draw us to Andy and Mayberry.

And, maybe, just maybe, that’s the epitaph for Jerry’s life: forgiveness, helpfulness, neighborliness, propriety, etc. And while we would give anything to have Jerry back, it may be the qualities of his life that we yearn for.

I one time heard someone state that following the Cubs year after year was a religion of pain. Yet, those same people waxed with enthusiasm every spring—THIS is going to be year. While Jerry’s years weren’t quite as painful as the Cubs record, he would want us to all leave here today waxing with enthusiasm and hope for the future. D., Kimba, K., you, along with the rest of us, are at the start of a new season. As we return Jerry to the earth, I just know he’s hoping we’ll knock it out of the park and that THIS year is going to be THE year!

At this point they played the Andy Griffith theme song. :D

Jerry loved playing "Bags," especially with his family. (This was something added by my aunt.)

I still think of him everyday, but I know he's still around. And healthier and happier than ever.