charlie sherrill
Member
I went to two this week. Almost three. On the way to work Wednesday morning I received a call from dispatch to call my friend Dave's wife. I was almost at the office and decided to wait until I got there to make the call. As I entered the conference room where we drink coffee every morning the sheriff asked several of us to attend the funeral of a former department reserve who had served 18 years with us. I agreed to go. He was before my time at this department and I didn't know him personally but I know his son who is currently a reserve officer. I have worked with him on several occassions and he doesn't live too far from me.
I then called Dave's wife and she told me Dave had died in a wreck the night before. Dave was an old friend of mine who had helped me out a lot after my wife was killed over 25 years ago. I told her about the day's funeral obligation and told her I would come by the family's home when I got back from the funeral. The reserve's funeral was at a little country church in an adjoining county. When I got there I learned a little more about the deceased. He had owned some type of scaffolding business, had been a S.O. reserve, the fire chief for a local VFD some time ago, and a Baptist preacher for about a dozen churches during his 43+ year preaching career.
The church was small by Southern standards and would hold only about 300 people. It was standing room only. I got a program as I went in and after sitting down in the special seating they had for us I read some of it and noticed there were five Baptist preachers scheduled to speak at this service. Anybody that has been to a Baptist funeral knows that one preacher can command quite a bit of air time. It lasted awhile with different folks or groups singing in between the preachers. The singing wasn't too bad. I liked a song the trio did, but when that poor little gal tried her hand at "Beaulah Land" I thought the windows were gonna bust out of that little church. After two and a half hours the service was over and everyone in the church walked by the casket before going out the door to their cars.
It was a solemn affair except for this somewhat large lady who broke down and had to be assisted from the church and a black fellow who had worked with the deceased who went through the same experience. It took a few minutes to load the cars and while they were loading I found out from another deputy that the cemetary was in another county about 20 miles away. The procession and graveside services that took a few more preachers and lasted another hour and fifteen minutes. As we left the cemetary a very heavy rainstorm complete with thunder and lightening arrived. I felt for the two motorcycle officers riding in front of me without any rain gear. The whole affair had lasted about four hours and had started at 10:30 that morning. I was hungry.
I made it back to the town the funeral had been held in. It's barely big enough for a McDonald's. I stopped there and got a Big Mac combo before headed to Dave's house. I dripped some of it on my shirt as I was driving but it wasn't real noticible. It took almost an hour to get close to Dave's house. As I approached the spot where Dave had died I saw his wife and another lady putting up a cross, some small American flags, and some other stuff. She saw me and started crying and I got out of the car and hugged her in the rain. I followed them to the house where she put on a pot of coffee. She wanted me to get hold of the investigating officer and find out what had happened. I did.
Dave had already had three heart attacks. He had some agent orange problems and these may have been connected to his heart problems. I learned from the officer that he probably had his fourth and last attack just before he hit a very large pine tree. I also learned that a witness was behind him and saw him fall over in the truck seconds before he hit the tree. His wife was comforted by this information feeling that he hadn't suffered any before his death. She told me when the services were to be held and after drinking coffee and talking about some old experiences with Dave I told her I would be there.
When I arrived at work yesterday I learned that another reserve's father had passed away. The Sheriff asked me if I would attend this funeral also. It was yesterday morning at 10:00 a.m. I begged off telling him I really didn't want to do three funerals in three days and was excused. I didn't know the deceased in this funeral either and am only barely familiar with the reserve deputy. I did tell him I would come if needed but enough deputies were there so they didn't need me.
Dave and I had been friends for a long time. I met him back in the early 70's right after he came back from Viet Nam. We fished, played poker, darts, and pinball machines. We occassionally partied together and even double dated a few times before meeting the women we would eventially marry. My best memories of Dave was how he stood with me after my wife was killed. Dave's hand and eye co-ordination was incredible. I could hold my own on the pinball machines but I never saw anybody who could beat him at darts. Between the two of us we could put one quarter in a pinball machine and play the rest of the night on the free games we had won. His house was full of bar room dart trophies. Dave drove a truck during most of his working career and welded part time when he wasn't on the road. After his first heart attack back in the early 90's he welded only for a living until a couple of more heart attacks left him disabled. He worked for a company laying pipe lines and would get the scrap pipe and make some of the most durable grills and smokers I've ever seen. He made several for me over the years.
Dave was a quiet type guy. There was nothing boisterous about him at all. He could quietly say some of the funniest stuff without ever cracking a smile. He was opinionated to the extent he thought Ronald Reagan was a liberal. He didn't push his beliefs on you though. Dave's personal life was different from most folks around here. He married a woman who is mostly American Indian. She had a daughter from a previous relationship who married a Mexican and had several kids. I'm not sure who was related to who, but about 1/3 of the folks at his funeral today were Mexican, including the pallbearers.
As mentioned earlier, Dave was a Viet Nam vet. After his return from Nam I never saw him wear anything but long sleeved shirts. His arms were scarred up from the Viet Nam shrapnel that he never talked about. He wore flannel in the winter and denim shirts in warmer weather. He liked the denim while welding because they didn't burn as bad. I saw him in the casket this morning. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a denim shirt with two pockets. The pallbearers and four little boys carrying small American flags were dressed the same way. Inside the two pockets of Dave's shirt were some kind of measuring tool for welding, a can of snuff, a deck of cards, (we used to play a lot of poker) and some pictures of his family. Laying to his side was his favorite snack...a bag of peanuts and a Barq's root beer in a bottle. Many times I would see him pour a bag of peanuts in a root beer and drink and eat at the same time. I still do it myself occassionally.
Dave's service wasn't as long as the one Wednesday. He wouldn't have had it that way. The guy that sang "Beulah Land" at this service actually did a good job of it. I wasn't able to go to the cemetary in another county where the U.S. Army Honor Guard was waiting for him but I was able to block a couple of intersections for the funeral procession. Rest in peace everybody. Especially Dave.
I then called Dave's wife and she told me Dave had died in a wreck the night before. Dave was an old friend of mine who had helped me out a lot after my wife was killed over 25 years ago. I told her about the day's funeral obligation and told her I would come by the family's home when I got back from the funeral. The reserve's funeral was at a little country church in an adjoining county. When I got there I learned a little more about the deceased. He had owned some type of scaffolding business, had been a S.O. reserve, the fire chief for a local VFD some time ago, and a Baptist preacher for about a dozen churches during his 43+ year preaching career.
The church was small by Southern standards and would hold only about 300 people. It was standing room only. I got a program as I went in and after sitting down in the special seating they had for us I read some of it and noticed there were five Baptist preachers scheduled to speak at this service. Anybody that has been to a Baptist funeral knows that one preacher can command quite a bit of air time. It lasted awhile with different folks or groups singing in between the preachers. The singing wasn't too bad. I liked a song the trio did, but when that poor little gal tried her hand at "Beaulah Land" I thought the windows were gonna bust out of that little church. After two and a half hours the service was over and everyone in the church walked by the casket before going out the door to their cars.
It was a solemn affair except for this somewhat large lady who broke down and had to be assisted from the church and a black fellow who had worked with the deceased who went through the same experience. It took a few minutes to load the cars and while they were loading I found out from another deputy that the cemetary was in another county about 20 miles away. The procession and graveside services that took a few more preachers and lasted another hour and fifteen minutes. As we left the cemetary a very heavy rainstorm complete with thunder and lightening arrived. I felt for the two motorcycle officers riding in front of me without any rain gear. The whole affair had lasted about four hours and had started at 10:30 that morning. I was hungry.
I made it back to the town the funeral had been held in. It's barely big enough for a McDonald's. I stopped there and got a Big Mac combo before headed to Dave's house. I dripped some of it on my shirt as I was driving but it wasn't real noticible. It took almost an hour to get close to Dave's house. As I approached the spot where Dave had died I saw his wife and another lady putting up a cross, some small American flags, and some other stuff. She saw me and started crying and I got out of the car and hugged her in the rain. I followed them to the house where she put on a pot of coffee. She wanted me to get hold of the investigating officer and find out what had happened. I did.
Dave had already had three heart attacks. He had some agent orange problems and these may have been connected to his heart problems. I learned from the officer that he probably had his fourth and last attack just before he hit a very large pine tree. I also learned that a witness was behind him and saw him fall over in the truck seconds before he hit the tree. His wife was comforted by this information feeling that he hadn't suffered any before his death. She told me when the services were to be held and after drinking coffee and talking about some old experiences with Dave I told her I would be there.
When I arrived at work yesterday I learned that another reserve's father had passed away. The Sheriff asked me if I would attend this funeral also. It was yesterday morning at 10:00 a.m. I begged off telling him I really didn't want to do three funerals in three days and was excused. I didn't know the deceased in this funeral either and am only barely familiar with the reserve deputy. I did tell him I would come if needed but enough deputies were there so they didn't need me.
Dave and I had been friends for a long time. I met him back in the early 70's right after he came back from Viet Nam. We fished, played poker, darts, and pinball machines. We occassionally partied together and even double dated a few times before meeting the women we would eventially marry. My best memories of Dave was how he stood with me after my wife was killed. Dave's hand and eye co-ordination was incredible. I could hold my own on the pinball machines but I never saw anybody who could beat him at darts. Between the two of us we could put one quarter in a pinball machine and play the rest of the night on the free games we had won. His house was full of bar room dart trophies. Dave drove a truck during most of his working career and welded part time when he wasn't on the road. After his first heart attack back in the early 90's he welded only for a living until a couple of more heart attacks left him disabled. He worked for a company laying pipe lines and would get the scrap pipe and make some of the most durable grills and smokers I've ever seen. He made several for me over the years.
Dave was a quiet type guy. There was nothing boisterous about him at all. He could quietly say some of the funniest stuff without ever cracking a smile. He was opinionated to the extent he thought Ronald Reagan was a liberal. He didn't push his beliefs on you though. Dave's personal life was different from most folks around here. He married a woman who is mostly American Indian. She had a daughter from a previous relationship who married a Mexican and had several kids. I'm not sure who was related to who, but about 1/3 of the folks at his funeral today were Mexican, including the pallbearers.
As mentioned earlier, Dave was a Viet Nam vet. After his return from Nam I never saw him wear anything but long sleeved shirts. His arms were scarred up from the Viet Nam shrapnel that he never talked about. He wore flannel in the winter and denim shirts in warmer weather. He liked the denim while welding because they didn't burn as bad. I saw him in the casket this morning. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a denim shirt with two pockets. The pallbearers and four little boys carrying small American flags were dressed the same way. Inside the two pockets of Dave's shirt were some kind of measuring tool for welding, a can of snuff, a deck of cards, (we used to play a lot of poker) and some pictures of his family. Laying to his side was his favorite snack...a bag of peanuts and a Barq's root beer in a bottle. Many times I would see him pour a bag of peanuts in a root beer and drink and eat at the same time. I still do it myself occassionally.
Dave's service wasn't as long as the one Wednesday. He wouldn't have had it that way. The guy that sang "Beulah Land" at this service actually did a good job of it. I wasn't able to go to the cemetary in another county where the U.S. Army Honor Guard was waiting for him but I was able to block a couple of intersections for the funeral procession. Rest in peace everybody. Especially Dave.
