Burying A Friend

Today, I buried a friend.

He was much older than me- old enough to be my father. As a matter of fact, he died on his 90th birthday. He entered the world and departed it on the same date. In between is the dash- and oh, what he did with it.

He was among the first I people I met when I came to FBC, Sulphur. He was usually found in the foyer, giving out bulletins and kind words every Sunday. Not long after I came, his wife died. He became sad and lonely. As his health deteriorated, he went to live in a care facility and then a nursing home.

He was a dapper man and a gentleman.

And he could tell stories.

Since I came to Southwest Louisiana from Carthage, TX (Panola County) I was pleased to discover that he, Mr. Bates, had grown up there. He also knew and grew up with legendary country singer Jim Reeves, who died much too soon. He talked about being good friends with Jim Reeves. He and Jim were brothers- blood brothers.

He told me stories of the old time sheriff of Panola County, Corbett Akins. Akins is pictured among Panola County sheriffs on the wall of honor at the jail. He is the one with a brace of pearl handled six guns on his hip. (People seemed so much colorful back then.) Akin stopped moonshiners and even personally pulled up parking meters when he objected to their installation on the city square of Carthage.

He told me of driving an ambulance over the old bridge over Calcasieu Lake in to Lake Charles and having to wait long minutes as traffic backed up. He worked at a chemical plant, sold used cars, and served on our local housing authority board. They even named some apartments after him- "The Bates Manor." I'm glad they weren't motels. Somehow the "Bates Motel" doesn't sit too well.

He once told me of a time when he was in a car wreck and was given up for dead. They covered him up. Someone noticed that blood was still running out from his forehead and figured out he was still alive. He told me he told the doc, "Doc, keep on sewing."

He did a lot of living and loving in 90 years.

I am richer for having known him. So long, Bro. Bates, my friend. From one Panola County boy to another.

Until we meet again at Jesus's feet.