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I have known Paul Puckett, former
Minister of Music for the First Baptist Church of Bartow, from a distance for
over the course of half a century. My choral group performed “The Messiah” in
his church throughout my high school years.
Paul and Martha Puckett’s daughters,
Elaine and Beth, were a couple of years ahead of me, and one behind me;
respectively speaking. Sadly, Beth left us prior to graduation; the result of
an automobile accident. And Elaine passed away in the last couple of years.
Paul Jr., whom I have never had the privilege of meeting, makes his residence
on the west coast of Florida.
But returning to the object of my
story, it was only in the past several months that I took the opportunity to
meet Paul face to face, and speak to him about a subject which had occupied my
thoughts for quite some time.
For you see, Paul, a wonderful minister
of the Gospel, has known more pain than anyone deserves in several lifetimes.
Not only did his dear daughters pre-decease him, but his wife, Martha, succumbed
to cancer a couple of decades ago.
But not before completing a book about
her nuclear family, as well as her adult life with Paul and the children.
As I sat down with the 92 year old
Paul, I noticed how fit he seemed for one who had spent over 9 decades on this
planet. And how cognitively cognizant and conversational he was.
After we had “shot the breeze” about
the weather, his health, my having known his daughters, and his having known my
father, I popped the question.
“Uh, Mr. Puckett, would you mind if I
borrowed a copy of your wife’s book? I’ve been wanting to read it for quite
some time.”
To which my old found/new found friend
replied,
“Well, you know I had a couple hundred
copies printed a long time ago, and I’m down to two now. A paperback and a
loose leaf copy.”
What Paul said next surprised me a bit,
(but as I thought about it later, his tactics made a bit more sense than
heretofore).
“Uh, Royce I suppose I could loan you
the paperback, but would you mind writing your home address and phone number on
this piece of paper? You know. Just in case I need to check on how you’re
coming along with the book.”
As a result, I willingly obliged my
host, and handed the paper back to him.
And with this Paul strolled to his
bookcase and pulled out a “dog-eared” copy of Martha Puckett’s, “Prunes, Pride
and Vinegar Pie,” and tenderly handed it to me.
With this, I thanked Mr. Puckett and he
saw me to the door.
I drove home, and immediately began
reading the book, and finished it in “break-neck” time.
However, I hadn’t yet divulged a
secondary reason for my visit.
For you see I intended to scan each and
every page of the small volume, and transfer it to a cd.
Having finished the book and laid the
first page on my scanner it soon became obvious that any attempt to commit the
entire work to my Word file, and ultimately to a cd might seriously compromise
the integrity of the fragile pages.
Thus, a few days later I retraced my
route and knocked on Paul’s front door. He opened it to me, and once again I
“pulled up a chair and sat awhile.”
And it was about this time I broached
the subject of my second visit.
“Paul, if you’d loan me that loose leaf
copy of Martha’s book I’d be happy to scan it, and put the finished work on a
cd. This would be a great adjunct to your wife’s efforts, and it would allow
you to pass her volume down through the generations of your family.”
Having returned the paperback, and
proven my trustworthiness, this time my friend didn’t hesitate.
“Well, of course. That would be very nice
of you, Royce.”
And as before, he stepped to his
bookcase, refiled the paperback, and retrieved the loose leaf version of his
wife’s book.
I can tell you my self-styled project
went off without a hitch. Two for him and one for me.
And having completed my task, I
“christened” the cassette disk with a circular label bearing the title of the
book, its author, and a photograph of the Puckett family.
Of course, Mr. Puckett was thrilled
with the outcome, and thanked me for my assistance.
Having just departed the great City of
Bartow today, Paul’s hometown, as well as my own, I looked over at my wife and
said,
“You
know, for no particular reason I was thinking of Paul Puckett today. Given the
opportunity I could see myself hanging out with him from time to time. He’s so
friendly, and such an interesting man. As healthy as he seems to be, why, he
may live to be a hundred!”
Without too many additional words
exchanged between us, Jean and I continued our short trek home, dismounted our
old Nissan Altima, and walked in the door of our house. Par for the course, I
immediately sat down at my computer, and pulled up my social media page.
Only to discover a post from a family
member
… announcing the death of his beloved
relative, Paul Puckett; having stepped into the presence of His beloved Savior only this morning.
I will miss my friend, Paul.
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