Skip

I have lost a friend.

 

I have known Melvin since the time the Rhodes family moved to White Drive, but I didn’t really know Melvin until ten years or so ago.

 

My Mom had some medical problems and could not walk down the driveway to get the newspaper.  In some remote part of the world I received a letter from my Mom telling me that every morning Melvin would bring her newspapers up the drive and leave them on the back steps.  This is the first time I can remember thinking that Melvin was a pretty good guy.  Melvin continued bringing my mom the papers until I retired.

 

I am convinced that good people do things that go mostly unnoticed and they only receive a thank you for their efforts. Melvin was good people.

 

It was Memorial Day and my Mom woke up to see her yard and the two oak trees and the one elm tree covered with toilet paper.  When Melvin saw this he got Harry Simrall and they spent the better part of the morning burning and picking up toilet paper.  Melvin was good people.

 

When the ice storm hit (two times) the one person in the town that came over with a chain saw and cleaned up all the broken tree limbs was Melvin. 

 

I had a marble military memorial marker that was a copy of my father’s marker in Arlington National Cemetery in the back of my truck.  Melvin saw it and said lets go put it in the cemetery.  I went for gravel and cement and Melvin went to the cemetery and had the hole dug for the monument when I got there.    Melvin was like that.  He enjoyed helping.  Melvin was good people.

 

Memorial Day 2007 dawned with only two American flags on veterans’ graves in Odd Fellows cemetery.  The family of the veterans placed the two flags.  I was telling Melvin that I was going to put flags on all veterans’ graves in the cemetery. Melvin said he would be honored if I would let him help.  So Melvin and I, along with Richard Taylor, took on the task of dressing up the cemetery on Memorial, Independence and Veterans Day.  Melvin was very interested in the inscriptions on tombstones and was constantly calling out to me that this grave was World War One or this one was Viet Nam.  It took us a little longer than normal to place the flags because Melvin would place a flag and then back up and salute, thanking the person for serving his country.  Personally it was very touching to see Melvin salute my father’s memorial marker.  Melvin was good people.

 

Melvin enjoyed politics.  We had a group of politicians that were probably OK, but they just were on the opposite side of the fence from Melvin and me.  The idea evolved that they should all be voted out of office and we should start a campaign to do just that.  One of us came up with the idea of NO INCUMBENTS.  As ideas go we decided that we should have the word NO with the international symbol of a circle with a red slash through it and then the word INCUMBENTS.  Sounded good to both of us.  I forgot about it until Melvin came over and wanted to order some bumper stickers.  The bumper stickers arrived and were passed out.  They were in great demand.  We even made the six o’clock news on TV and a couple of newspaper mentions about our campaign.  We had fun.  Melvin enjoyed life.  He was good people.

 

Melvin called me the day after Christmas to check on me.  Since I have no family he had invited me to his house but I didn’t go.  He wanted to make sure I was doing OK and not having any problems since he had not seen me over the holidays. Melvin was always concerned for others.  It is ironic that he was concerned about my well being on the morning of the day he died.  Melvin was like that.  He was good people.

 

There are times when I walk around White Drive in the mornings that I find myself looking to see if Melvin is out picking up his paper.  I have lost a friend.  I will put the flag on his grave and salute him this year.

 

Skip Agard

A change of plans, and plots.

None of us was prepared for Dad's death when it happened.

Dad prepared us for the way it happened. Many times, he told us not to worry if he died alone while working on the farm - that was exactly how he hoped to die. He wanted to be full of life right up until the moment of his death. And he was. We all imagined that he would be 82 or 92, not 62 when that day came, but we were wrong.

Then, we were wrong about something else. We buried Dad in the lovely Eupora Cemetery. It is the perfect place for my grandparents, but it was not the right place for Dad. We didn't realize then that Dad should be buried in Starkville. That his final resting place should be close to home, and close enough to hear the bulldog fans at ball games.

Dad changed plans all through his life. When he found something he wanted to do, he learned what he needed to know, and then he made his move. For most people that would certainly stop with their burial. But not Dad. He taught us to take risks, to follow our hearts, and to make changes, even when it might seem crazy to other people.

So, today, on the six month anniversary of Dad's death, he made one more move.

For those of you who would like to visit Dad's final resting place, it has changed. He is now buried in Starkville, in Odd Fellows Cemetery, right beside University Drive.

A shot in the arm.

I have been a nurse for a dozen years. By my conservative estimate, I have given thousands of injections. I have given shots to most of my family, many of my friends, and yes, even my Dad. 

Dad had quite a bit of experience with injections, too, but his was with vaccinating his livestock during his years on the farm. He had more than a few stories about those days - and a few accidental inoculations along the way. 

Dad did not give shots to people. Except under very special circumstances, as seen here on my third birthday. I know that I have mentioned that Dad could make anything fun, and this is just another example of that - look at the grin on his face! 

Thanks, Dad, for the shot in the arm! 

Not afraid of a big project...

We only took a few vacations to the beach.

July 1993: This picture was taken from the balcony of our condo in Gulf Shores on the morning we were leaving to go home. Mom and Dad had not spent a ton of time on the beach, but they did go out for a walk every morning. On this morning, Dad decided to carve a channel to let the tidal pool that had formed overnight go back to the sea. His only tools were a pink plastic pail and determination.

It is hard not to admire a man that will take on nature will the full intent of making a difference.

Suzie Q

Tiff,

I just want you to know I love it when you update the website for Melvin. I love hearing you reflect on him. I know you girls miss him cause I still miss him and probably always will.

I will never hear Len Lew stories told the way Melvin could tell them. I will never hear Suzie Q said quite the same again either. And that laugh, only Melvin had such a contagious laugh. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me through the web site.

Aunt Sue

Whistle-Britches and Sport-Model, just to name a few...

Dad enjoyed using nicknames. Particularly if the name got under the skin of the person to whom the nickname was directed - which was not necessarily the person being called the name.

Take, for instance, Whistle-Britches. Whistle-Britches was probably the most frequently used nickname in Dad's arsenal. You see, it was his name for EVERY BOY who ever showed any interest in dating any one of Dad's daughters, or, much more recently, his grand-daughters. (You can only imagine the horror of a teen-aged girl hearing her father shout - into the uncovered phone receiver -  "Whistle-Britches is on the phone for you...")

Then, there was Sport-Model. Those boys Dad called Sport-Model were usually some sort of hot shot - or they thought they were. Or, they were live-wire, full-speed ahead, little BOYS!

There were also nicknames specific to people: my youngest sister has mentioned being "Nut", and there are Barefoot, Little Man, Priss, and several others as well.

So, if you happen to have been called "Knuckle-Head" or something similar by Dad, just know that you were in good company. And, that no matter what you might have thought at the time, it was all in good fun. Because, if for some reason you got on Dad's bad side, you knew it straight-away, because he would call you by your real name. Your full name.