Charles

I was attempting to find a picture of Len Lews and came across this blog. I was a frequent customer of your dad's place and became friends. My ex-wife and I had a son in June of 1972 and I have memories of your dad and mom bringing their baby into the restaurant and we would sit the babies side by side and visit. Is this possible, or are my memories fuzzy? Things could get fuzzy in that wonderful place. Are there any pictures surviving of Len Lews? Also do you know the origin of the name? Sorry to say that I lost contact with your parents and didn't know of your loss. Charles

Charlie O.

I saw this card, and it just reminded me how little we do understand the "why" of life and death. I know Melvin's death is heartbreaking and has given you a great loss. But I have seen this wonderful, successful family thrive through al the years, and I've been proud to have had a little part in it. Even though I have long since been away from the family, you always treated me like family and with respect. I always enjoyed this Christmas letters over the years as I could watch the family grow up. I told Melvin after you first met that he would be a lucky and blessed man if you two few in love (and I was right).

Jan, you are a strong woman and always a stabilizing force in everything you did. I think back now on your mother and daddy as I cared for them medical for a long time. I remember making house calls, and you are al a part of wonderful memories of a good life in medicine.

I wish my personal life had not suffered so but we can never go back - just have to go forward. Now that's you have to do - go forward - enjoy those memories and your great children and grandchildren and know we'll all eventually be back home. You and Melvin were and are an important part of what my life has blessed me with. Thanks to you for your call to me, it meant lots.

It will be hard for awhile, but you have a good life with Melvin to look back on and a good future and support to see you along the way.

Ted & Nancy

We were so saddened to return to Starkville from our holiday and learn about Melvin's passing. He was such a kind, happy man who always had a smile and something positive to say about everything. We know he loved his family and that you will miss him terribly.

Rachel

I know there are really no words that will ease the pain of losing Melvin. He as one of a kind, and Patrick & I adore him. He was always checking in on us. I know that Patrick will miss his friendship and guidance.

I don't know what we will do without him. He saved the day many times with his vast knowledge of home improvements.

Paula & Don

Words escape me to comfort you, but just know that so many people respected and loved Melvin. Not but a few people could achieve such worthy qualities as Melvin did. He as a good man.

Jean & Charles

It was so special to know Melvin. He was proud of his family & always so friendly. We enjoyed being in a Bible class with him, and were proud to have him as an alderman, but most especially as a friend.

Ray

I can't tell you how shocked and saddened I was to hear of Melvin's sudden passing. Only a couple of weeks ago we as advising me at Bell's Building Supply on what I should buy and what not t buy to repair a plumbing problem I was having.

Melvin never failed to stop and speak; we would often reminisce about the "Len-Lew" days, etc.

From 13 January 2008

We are in the midst of a giant purge of the clutter that amasses when life proceeds in the same location for over a decade. We've been through clothing, toys, games, and even photos. But today I came across this letter I wrote to a former friend with whom I had lost touch a couple of years before Dad's death. It is both as heartwrenching and as true as I was the day I sat writing it and crying - as evidenced by the ink blots on the page from the tears that fell as I wrote, and which increase in number towards the end. 


Though I am not entirely sure why, I am compelled to write you again. With the passing of each day/week/month/ and year, I do grow more certain that you are gone from my life forever. Which brings me to the reason for this letter.

My beloved father is dead.

Without any sort of warning, I lost the first man I loved in this life.
He died exactly the way he would have wanted.
In fact, he had even said it many times.
The only part of his death that I can take issue with is the timing.
He was 62 years old, and by all accounts, heatlhy. 
He died alone, working on the tree farm. 
There was no gruesome accident, he simply fell down dead - "dropped dead," literally.
He made no attempt to call for help, his cell phone was still in its pocket.
His eyes were still open as he lay on the leaves in the cold rain. 
My sister's boyfriend found him, and stayed there with him in the pouring rain until help arrived.

Daddy was long gone before we ever realized anything was wrong. By the time he was found, he had probably been dead two or three hours. I am glad for Daddy that he was never forced to endure illness or loss of strength or be subjected to the torment of hospitalization. Those things would have robbed me of him just as surely as death has, though not as swiftly. But I am so heartbroken for myself, my mother, my sisters, our friends, but most especially our children. 

A loss like this should be felt deeply - 
I know that, I but didn't know that it would slice into my soul. 
I feel like an orphan.
I know how ridiculous that sounds. 
I am a grown woman. 
I have lived outside my parents' home for well more than half of my life. 

But my Daddy is gone.

There have been very few people in my life with whom I felt completely safe. 
I have come to realize I may never feel that way with a peer, but I always knew that I was safe with Daddy.

I cannot tell you how many people have said that they won't know who to turn to now that he is gone. Well, guess what? I don't know either. I'm obviously not even a good person to ask.
I have to face the fact that the only may who ever actually loved me unconditionally is gone.
DEAD.Most people can't even say the word, but I can.
My Daddy taught me to respect life and death.
And birth. And trees. And hard work. And a hundred-million other things.
I should make a list. I should start right now. Because part of what is absolutely killing me about this whole situation is that I now have a two and a half year old boy child who understood how special his Poppa was. And his Poppa loved him and was so proud of him and wanted so much to teach him so many things.

Now not only do I have to try to teach him as much of that as I can, I have to teach him about Poppa - because he own't get to know him himself. 
He is too young to remember him. He'll only know what he is told.

I had to learn from our attorney that Poppa planned to teach his only grandson to fish. This year, Dad had bought a new rifle and his first hunting license. He enjoyed the men in the hunting club at the farm so much that he built a shooting house and went with them. When we had to choose pallbearers, we asked the hunters to do the honors. As it turned out, we didn't need their services after all. My sisters and I, with the help of our husbands/boyfriend, carried Dad's casket ourselves. I truly am almost as proud of us for the non-traditional way we handled the death events as I am for the non-traditional ways we have all given birth. 

I think Daddy would be, too. 

Mom flew one of Dad's few surviving Vietnam buddies across the country to play Taps on his bugle as Daddy was buried. Not until he played the first note did I realize that I have never before attended a funeral where Taps was played. There were so many military funerals for the day we buried Daddy that the Army could not send two men to fold the flag. I'm glad. The men who held Daddy's flag high as the bugle played knew my Daddy.

And loved him. 

Jim H.

Wow. It has been a long time since I had an email like this. Thank you so, so much for writing. I never tire of hearing stories of Daddy. I cannot wait to share it with Mom!
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February 28, 2016

I just happened across your blog and other information about your Dad while I was browsing the Internet reliving memories of my days at Mississippi State.  I was a bartender/waiter at Len Lew's in 1973/1974, and Melvin and Jan could not have been kinder to me.  They were living out back, and I can remember you as well.  Those were some of the happiest times of my life.

I last saw your Dad as I was driving through Starkville -- I think it was around 1980 -- and happened to stop by a package store where he worked.  Blew me away to run into him.

One quick story: I was waiting tables at Len Lew's one evening when a guy had an argument with the lady who was with him and tossed a beer on her.  I told him he had to leave, nervously standing my ground and escorting him out, and he gave me the "you apparently don't know who I am" spiel.  Turned out it was a honcho in the English Dept. at MSU, a longtime good customer and a friend of your folks.  I figured my job was over, but Melvin stood with me, told me I did the right thing and, I believe, talked the guy down about retaliation.

I just felt compelled to write you and let you know a little more about your parents' impact on others' lives, which even they probably were not aware of.  I'm a government retiree living near Fredericksburg, Virginia, these days and don't get back to Mississippi very much.  I'm so glad I came across your blog.  Please give my best to your Mom -- who likely won't remember me -- it was "Jimmy" Holley back then.

Three years.

I can hardly believe it, but it has been three years today since Dad died. I still miss him so much it hurts, and it is comforting to be reminded that I am not alone in that.

I woke up this morning to this message from Aunt Sue,

I hope all you young ladies have a good day today FILLED with wonderful memories of a wonderful husband, dad, and friend. I love you all very much.

My response to that was simply, "Always."

Dad wasn't perfect, but he was perfectly wonderful to us.

Pop!

As I sat at the computer listening closely to an interview on NPR, a shot was fired in my living room.

Yes, Poppa's Grandson has a cap gun. No, he is not supposed to fire it inside.

Still, all I could do was shake my head and smile. Poppa would have loved it. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that a fresh supply of caps would have mysteriously appeared every time Poppa visited.

10 Great Places to Learn U.S. Military History

As we approach Veteran's Day, I thought it would be appropriate to share this list, as published in USA Today on November 8, 2002. The article was in a box of memorabilia I inherited on my most recent trip to Starkville. Dad loved very little more than to stop at a historical marker, so I can only imagine that he intended to visit these ten places one day.

The National WWII Museum, New Orleans (Formerly The National D-Day Museum  
West Point Museum, West Point, N.Y.
U.S. Air Force Museum, Dayton, Ohio
Museum of the Confederacy, Richmond, Va.
The Patton Museum of Cavalry & Armor, Fort Knox, Ky.
U.S. Navy Museum, Washington, D.C.
Museum of Naval Aviation, Pensacola, Fla.
Airborne & Special Operations Museum, Fayetteville, N.C.
First Division Museum at Cantigny, Wheaton, Ill.
U.S. Army Chaplain Museum, Fort Jackson, S.C.

Game Play.

Melvin loved playing a few games. He & the grandchildren got quite a kick from Connect Four.

He was always up for a quick game of Rook......

Dominos brought out what can only be described as a passion, as he would get an evil glint in his eye while "rattling them bones."

But the game that he may have enjoyed most was Acquire. I had never even heard of this game before being introduced to it in the Rhodes family. Melvin was a master, an won almost every time. Even when you were certain that you had finally succeeded, that you had beat him, he still pulled it out by a few dollars. And he loved it. He didn't gloat, but it was obvious that he never had any doubt. We haven't played at Casa Rhodes since he died. It will be very strange when we finally do.

Birthday Card from Dad

Last week, I was looking through a box of keepsakes when I came across a birthday card Dad sent to me a few years ago. I didn't remember it from the front, but as soon as I opened it up, I could hear his laugh and see his smile.

He meant every word.

Miss you, Dad. Birthdays (and other days) aren't the same without your warped sense of humor.

Brooke

Melvin......

We miss you! It's coming up on the Anniversary of the INDY 500 Trip. We
will always cherish those memories with you and were so thrilled that you
wanted to spend the weekend with us!
You are always in our thoughts! I miss your advise and "our talks". You
treated me like a daughter!

Much Love,
Brooke

Jim

Unique! That would probably be the best one-word description of Mel. Let's hope he's happy where he is now, as we all miss his presence, humor, jokes, loyalty, and presence. If we ever need an advocate in heaven, I know who my choice will be!

Alex

I remember him playng songs on the Jukebox at the Len Lew so I could record them.

I remember one summer, he paid a local fisherman to take me out fishing, so I could catch different species of fish, for a Boy Scout Merit Badge- the other guy caught all types of fish, but I couln't get a strike/bite.

I rember how he let us eat or drink whatever we wanted at the Len Lew when we stayed there.

I remember the summer he taught me how to string a barb wire fence-

and I got a huge water blister on my ear.

He also taught me about Rhuli-gel for mosquito and chigger bites.

I remember the pond by the Len Lew- it had catfish that were "trained" to eat only hot dogs.

That pond was full of turtles that would bite at your bobber-

he bet me a nickle that I could not catch one.

Don't think he ever gave me that nickle though...

I know he paid a guy at the Len Lew to teach me to play PinBall, and pool.

I remember a puzzle he had- clear plastic rods, put together in a cube.

He told me that he had never been able to take it apart.

It was in a pile of pieces when I left that week-

got it apart, but never back together.

He was surprised when I was happy reading his copies of "Mother Earth News."

Speaking of reading- he intoduced me to one of his favorites- Nero Wolfe. Still love reading his mysteries when I have time,

and have always thought of Melvin when I did.

I remember being the ring boy at their wedding,

and Charlie was best man.

I held that stupid pillow with a ring on it through the entire ceremony.

When I asked what happened after the ceremony-

Charlie took HIS wedding ring off the pillow.

He had kept the real ring, and had me carry the imposter-

they were afraid I would drop her ring.

I remember the Yellow Squash Yuck Bug.

Mirror image.

It was not uncommon for Dad to emphasize his point with a raised eyebrow. It is one of the expressions I miss most.

I, too, can (and often do) raise one brow while lowering the other. My expression mirrors Dad's: he raised his right eyebrow; I raise my left. I have tried to raise my right brow, but I cannot.

A few days ago, I gave my son the raised eyebrow. To my surprise, his right brow shot up in answer.

For an instant, I saw the reflection of his Poppa. Just as I mirrored my father, my son mirrors me.

Taking Chance.

Tonight, I was completely absorbed in a movie recently produced by HBO. Taking Chance is the actual account of an officer escorting the body of a Marine killed in action in Iraq back home to his parents. Despite the grim subject matter, it is a heartwarming story of respect and patriotism. I wanted to call Dad and discuss it immediately. Then I wondered if Dad would have watched it at all. He did not watch war movies. I think having seen the live-action version in person permanently colors your vision towards such things, and Dad was no exception.

But Taking Chance is not a war movie. It is remarkably a-political. It is not about the causes, only the ultimate consequences. And if he had watched it, Dad would have appreciated all the details. Even the ones that hurt me to watch. Dad would have appreciated the cleaning, preservation, and presentation of the personal effects and remains of the fallen. He would have told me far more details than I didn't know I didn't want to know about the process. He would have reminded me, again, that too much of our knowledge of forensics has been learned from wartime casualties.

I share this because Dad would have most appreciated the respect and dignity with which the fallen soldiers are treated in this movie. Considering the less than warm reception veterans of Vietnam often received upon their re-entry into society, it would be easy to understand if Dad did not want anything to do with the military, ever. That was not the path he chose. He was a proud member (and former president of the local chapter) of the Veterans of Foreign War. He was supportive of soldiers and his fellow veterans, regardless of the circumstances which led to their deployment.

I may not always understand or support our country's military actions, but I do know that each and every service member who has ever fought to defend the flag of our nation is a hero.

Proverbial Wisdom

Despite my love of reading, I don't devour books the way Dad did. At least, not since I've had children. Still, I'm currently reading a series of books that has utterly consumed my attention. A few days ago, I ran across a Scottish proverb that really spoke to me.

It's a wise bairn that kens its father.

I had to smile when I read it, because I really did know my father. There have been a lot of occasions to wonder what Dad would think about a certain subject, or what he would do. A few times, I've thought my first instinct might not be right, but a quick double-check with someone else who knew Dad well confirms my original thought. And a few months ago, when I was struggling with a difficult decision, it was my husband who spurred me out of my quandary with a seemingly simple question, "What would your Dad do?"

And no, I might not have always agreed with Dad, and I might not choose to do what he would do... but I have a really good idea of what it would be.

I'm so glad Dad shared so much of himself with us. We are wise for it.