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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