Turkey, Dressing, Archery.......

For Thanksgiving 2004, the Rhodes clan spent a couple of days at the tree farm. After batting around several ideas for a camp house at the farm, Melvin acquired an older mobile home and had recently completed a major overhaul of its interior. He was very proud of how it had turned out, and he wanted to move the holiday activities out there so that the family could utilize it as a group for the first time. I also think that he knew that the only way to get me out there was to take the food there.

Melvin had recently bought a bow, and had a shooting area set up so that everyone could try out their skills. I had never touched a bow & arrow before, and Melvin had very little reason to think that I would perform very well in the arena, as I have never had any interest in athletics, hunting, guns, etc. But, I stepped up to take a turn, and after the proper instruction from Melvin, took aim and let the arrow fly. I wish that I had a photo of the look of absolute shock on Melvin's face when the arrow not only landed in the target circle, but was placed very well in the target. Assuming that I had just gotten lucky, he wanted me to do it again. This time, I got even closer to the bullseye. He announced that I obviously had a natural gift for archery. I shot many arrows that afternoon. The next morning, my entire forearm was black & blue from bruising due to the bow string hitting it.

While we were there for the weekend, we learned of the sudden death of acclaimed Mississippi writer, Larry Brown. He had suffered a sudden heart attack at his home near Oxford. I had been a fan from the beginning of his writing career, and have signed copies of all of his books, so I was very shocked by his passing. Now, it seems very strange that three years later Melvin would also die of a sudden heart attack not 200 yards from where I was standing when I learned of Larry's death.

Marcus

Cars only blow-up in movies...

Dad gave us a lot of advice about cars. How to drive them, how to crash them if you had to, and how to repair them. And he always shook his head at scenes with cars that crashed and burst into flames on screen. He said that only happened in the movies

Well, that may be true, most of the time. But not always. Not when it is my car, at least.

Dad dabbled in used car sales from time to time. The peak of his car sales coincided with my coming-of-age as a driver. Most people fantasize about their first car. I had so many first cars I can't even remember them all. There was a step-side Ford pick-up, and a gorgeous purple '53 Chevrolet (we called it a "Ziggy car" because it was rounded like the cartoon character) with a tube-type radio that still worked, and several others that for one reason or another were bought and sold before I ever got my license.

But then, there was my real first car - a white, 1979 Chrysler Cordoba. I hated (and dearly loved) that car. Dad and I had a deal: if I made a certain score on a certain standardized college entrance exam, he would buy me a new car. Well, I blew it. I missed the magic score by one point. When I found out my score, I lost it altogether right there in the guidance counselor's office. Never mind that the score was high enough for college, I wasn't getting a new car. I was inconsolable. I cried all the way back to my dorm. Then, I called Dad. I was sobbing by the time I told him my score - and he couldn't stop laughing. You see, he explained, he was always going to buy me a new car, but he wanted me to have a goal - he wanted me to try my best. So he had picked a number he thought I didn't have a chance of making - as motivation. I was furious for about 10 seconds, and then I realized I was getting a new car.

Dad took his time finding the perfect car, and just before my senior year, he bought it. It was beautiful, it was perfect, it was half the size of my Cordoba. The only repair it needed was a new headliner. So, I followed behind the car from Dad's Tire Shop to Columbus, to a rather seedy-looking shop that was supposed to do a good job - when they came to work at all. No one answered the door that day at the shop. I was not about to leave my precious car there unattended. One of Dad's all-time favorite "Grease Monkeys" had driven the car to Columbus, and now we started our caravan home. Not long after we got onto the highway, the car started overheating. He slowed down, rolled down the windows, and turned on the heater. The car continued overheating. We pulled off the highway. Dad's mechanic took a look under the hood, and we decided to leave the car on the side of the road and go get what we needed to tow it back to town.

I saw Dad come out the front doors of the shop as we pulled into the turn lane. Dad was shaking his head. I was out of the truck before it was in park.

"Daddy, we've got a problem."

"Yeah, we do."

"No, Daddy. Listen. The guys didn't answer the door at the upholstery shop, and I was just going to take it back some other time, but the car started to overheat, and we tried everything we knew to do, and we looked under the hood, but we decided just to leave it on the side of the road..."

"I know."

"Huh? Daddy, how could you know?"

"Tiff, if you didn't like the car, why didn't you just tell me?" By this point, he was struggling to maintain his composure.

"Daddy?! What are you talking about? I love that car."

"Well, Girl, I've got some bad news." Dad proceeded to break the news to me that moments (possibly even seconds - I've always wondered if we would have seen it if we looked back) after we pulled away from the car - it burst into flames. Burned up. To a crisp. Toast. The Highway Patrol was able to read most of the VIN, and they contacted the manufacturer of the car - in Detroit (DEE-troit to hear Dad say it). They provided the original purchaser's name, and the highway patrol was able to reach the original owner's son - who happened to be the friend from whom Dad had just bought the car. Dad's friend provided the officer with Dad's phone number, and the officer informed Dad of the events which transpired after I left the car. And, I might add, all of this took place in well less than 20 minutes. (Remember, this was 1989 - they did all of this without the internet, or even cell phones!)

To add insult to my injury, my Foreign Language teacher was driving by and took pictures of my burning car (she didn't know it was mine at the time) which ran on the news that night and maybe even in the paper the next day.

I couldn't believe it. Dad couldn't either. He had searched for and found the perfect car, and it was gone. And he couldn't believe that we didn't notice that the car was about to be engulfed in flames before we left it. He was fishing for an explanation for what had happened - grasping at straws, really. He asked if there was any possibility that someone had been smoking in the car and that this whole fiasco was the result of a carelessly discarded cigarette. I was indignant. I think I even raised my voice when I explained that no - no one had been smoking, and for that matter there was emergency phone money in the ashtray, and if I had known that the car was about to burn up, I would not have left those two quarters!

End of discussion. Dad was convinced. He knew it was the truth. I would not have left money (even fifty cents) in the car unless I intended to be back for it.

And, though we'll never know now, I suspect that Dad was the one who put the two quarters there in the first place - just in case.

A Perfect Head...

Dad's hair, or the lack thereof, has been the subject of quite a few laughs in our family.

• When Aly was about three, she found a solution to Dad's hair loss (not that he was ever looking for one). Aly noticed that there was always hair in the bathtub drain. And she knew that Dad took at least one, and often two showers a day. So, she told Daddy that he needed to stop taking showers because the water spraying down onto his head was making his hair fall out. (We laughed.)
  
• A couple of years later, Dad was serving as a pall bearer. Mom and I were attending the funeral, and were seated several rows behind Dad. Funerals are never fun, and Dad's day had already been complicated by finding a pair of little girl's jelly shoes in his coat pocket. Just before the service, I said (apparently a lot louder than I thought), "Mama, look - Daddy's the youngest and the baldest." (We laughed - later.)
• Christmas 1991: Dad unwraps a smooth piece of wood, shaped like a paddle. Enclosed in the package are instructions for using the "Bald-Headed Man's Brush". (See photo.)

Dad was bald - and he didn't mind saying so. He was one of those guys who could actually say, "God made only a few perfect heads...and the rest he covered with hair," with a smile.

Memories from Marcus, continued.

Instead of adding to my previous post, I thought I would just start a new one.
(And I thought I would add my own insights to my husband's memories...tlm)

1. It must have been the fall of 1991 or the summer of 1992. Lorraine & I were not married, and hadn't even considered the idea. The "Wonders" series of international exhibitions was going strong in Memphis, and the Rhodes clan had attended the previous blockbuster, "Catherine the Great." So, they invited me along to see the "Ottoman Sultans." This was when they had that great Toyota van, with the engine basically underneath the driver & front passenger. The middle-row seats rotated all the way around, so the back of the car could have a little party along the way. Somehow, I got voted to drive...... the entire Rhodes family in my charge..... all the way to Memphis and into downtown to the Convention center. I was scared to death, as I had never before been to Memphis, and now was about to drive all around it. But Melvin sat up in the passenger seat, never seemed worried at all, and actually took a good bit of pleasure at my discomfort. It was a great trip.

2. In August of 1991, just before Jan's father died, I was invited to tag along with the Rhodes family to the balloon races in Corinth, MS. I had never seen a hot air balloon, much less been close to one, and it was a tremendous treat that instilled a desire to one day have my own balloon. That day will come later on. At some point on the trip, we landed at the "mall" in Corinth. This was a rather sad place, as most of the stores had gone out of business. For some reason that escapes me now, all of the girls & I began speaking with an exaggerated Southern drawl and referred to Melvin as "Colonel Daddy." Melvin got quite a kick out of it, and played right along. This carried right on into the local Wal-Mart, where some back-to-school shopping had to be done, as school was beginning the next week. The looks on some of the folk's faces was priceless.
(Not only did Daddy play along, he began calling us the most Southern-sounding names imaginable: Magnolia Blossom, Camellia Bloom, and Sweet Pea. He even called Marcus "Junior". In addition to all of that, Colonel Daddy also walked with a limp...)

3. While Lorraine & I were at Walt Disney World, Melvin & Jan drove down twice during the four months to visit.

On the second trip, as we were nearing the end of our time there, they drove back Lorraine's car and a lot of our stuff. There was a cast-member only store at the Magic Kingdom that sold merchandise at drastically reduced prices. At some point while we were there, they had a life-size Mickey & Minnie that became available. Lorraine bought them. They  took up the entire back seat of Lorraine's car on the way home. Melvin loved the looks from people on the road as he would pass them and they would realize that Mickey & Minnie were in the car. (Daddy reported that he did his best Disney wave to everyone he saw along the road.)

4. Melvin & I did not do very much by ourselves, but he & I both wanted to see the movie "Castaway" when it came out. So, we loaded up and headed to the theater. I loved it, but he only found it to be mediocre. (Not surprising that a man who lived in a house with a wife and three daughters wouldn't be too impressed by a movie with almost no dialogue - it was probably the longest "quiet time" he had ever had.)

5. For Christmas of 2000, the Rhodes clan took a big family trip to Gatlinburg, TN. We stayed in a fabulous chalet up on top of the mountain. Jan & Melvin got there several hours before the Moseley's arrived, but the met us at the bottom of the mountain to lead us up. It was very cold that week, never getting above freezing. There was snow on the ground, and we were somewhat nervous about heading up those narrow winding roads in the dark. Melvin took off like a bat out of hell, and we had no choice but to keep up. The road had no shoulder, and you had the choice of colliding with a sheer wall of mountain, or an immediate drop of hundreds of feet off the side of the mountain. There were literally cars in the trees on the side of the road that had missed a curve and gone off the mountain. It was more than a little nerve-wracking, but we made it. (Seriously: there were cars suspended in mid-air on trees and utility poles. At least one of the girls was in tears before we were halfway up, and I didn't blame her one bit!)

War Rations.

I am thankful that I know very little about "war rations."

One of the things that I do know is that it was a boon for Dad's family that he was born on the 14th day of the month. Since he born that day, they got extra rations for the month of July. Had he been born any later in the month, they would not have received rations for him until August.

So, they had enough sugar to make a cake.

I cannot imagine the world they were living in, but I am deeply grateful to all of the veterans who have served this country to make the world we live in possible.

On this day in 1945...

Dad had his first visit with a doctor sixty-two years ago today.

Dad was born in a house on Louisville Street. My grandparents did not live in Starkville, but my grandmother's sister and her family did. Dad was born at their house. I don't know the details of the story, but the important point is that my grandmother intended to give birth there.

However, Dad was born on the 14th, and today is the 17th. When Dad was three days old, a long-time Starkville doctor, Feddy Eckford, stopped by and checked him.

The story goes that Dad was a little yellow (jaundiced), and the doctor advised that they put him in the sunlight for an hour every morning and evening.

They followed Dr. Feddy's advice, and Dad turned out just fine.

A little short on car repairs...

About a decade ago, we left Starkville one hot, summer Saturday headed to a friend's wedding in Waynesboro. We never made it. My beloved yellow Volvo wagon started misbehaving on the road, but we were able to coax it along until Lauderdale, and then it died. Despite my best efforts and a phone consult with Dad, I could not get it started again. So, realizing we (me, Marcus, the girls, and a friend who was riding with us) were stranded, Dad came to our rescue. He was in Eupora when I called, but he left immediately. By the time he arrived (some three hours later), we were hungry, thirsty, and grumpy. Between the three adults, we had only enough cash to buy a snack for the girls. It is hard to imagine now, but the only gas station within walking distance of our dead-as-a-stick car was having a computer problem and could only take cash that afternoon.

Thank heavens for Daddy's pockets! He arrived with enough cash to buy a round of cokes and ice cream for everyone. And apparently, the old Volvo just wanted to see him. It cranked right up and drove us all the way home, without missing a beat.

 

I guess I'll be a AAA gold member for the rest of my life. But even though they've got great service, they don't trouble-shoot over the phone, and even when they do come to pick up the car, they don't buy snacks and drive you home!

A few months later, I got this personalized Valentine's day card from Daddy.

Independence Day

Dad loved the Fourth of July.
He celebrated our country.
He honored our veterans.
He flew our flag proudly.

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.

Memorial Day

Dad was proud to be a Veteran of Foreign War.  Today, I am taking time to remember the millions of veterans, including my father, for whose service I am grateful.  

A friend visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial this week and sent me these pictures. Mom & Dad had planned to take their oldest grand-daughter to D. C. this year on an educational vacation. I wish she had been able to see this memorial with him. I'm glad that I did. 

Sturgis South

Dad liked motorcycles, but he never owned one. He and mom used to tell us that they were going to buy a motorcycle with a sidecar one day and tour the country. Obviously, they never got the chance. So, Dad enjoyed seeing other people's motorcycles - especially at the Sturgis South Rally. For the last few years, he was a volunteer at the Village Cycle Center dinner. As I understand it, he helped direct people into their parking spaces. Then, on Saturday, Dad (and often other members of our family) would go to Wendy's and watch the procession of motorcycles. 

  

For clarification, the motorcycle mentioned here was actually a Vespa scooter. Dad was a couple of decades ahead of the scooter trend with that one! 

Brad

3/19/08

The time that I had to get to know Melvin was most special. We had developed a great working relationship, but also, he was a great neighbor and friend. He was a very kind and caring individual, which he showed to me and my family on numerous occasions. His kindness was greatly appreciated and will certainly be missed.

Sincerely,

Brad

Armando & Ruth

I will always remember Melvin as a member of my Sunday School class. I admired his quietly dignified stature. He was generally soft-spoken, but when he spoke there was depth in his words and wisdom in his opinion.

Melvin was the most accommodating person I have known. I, my family, and others were always comfortable to ask him questions, and for his help, on any household problems - from clogged washing machines to a sagging backyard fence.

He left me a very lasting impression. . . Armando

During the Katrina Relief, I worked as a housing coordinator volunteer. In every housing need situation we encountered, Melvin always showed the aura of confidence and he always geave me the assurance that housing will be found. 

To me, he was the "Southern" gentleman.  

Ruth

Patrick & Janey

Patrick and I did not know Melvin really well, but one thing we both remember about him - HIS SMILE. Whether it be running into him at Cappe's during lunch or in the hall at church, he always had a sweet, warm smile!

Patrick & Janey

Glen

The thing I remember most about Melvin was how friendly he was. I remember how he always played with the children when the family got together. He was always so happy.

Glen

Paul & Laura

I knew Melvin primarily though our Sunday school class. We often sat next to each other. He was well informed on various topics and firm in his beliefs.

Melvin was a friend who was always willing to help when needed.

One thing I will always remember is how Melvin would "toot" the horn of his pickup when he saw me working in the yard.

Above all things, it was evident how much Melvin loved his family.

Our thoughts and prayers continue to be with all of you.

Paul & Laura

Tom

My memories of Melvin are of a man with strong convictions, especially religious ones. He was also a family man, proud of each one of you.

My other memory of Melvin is that he was skilled in building trades and a source of invaluable information for my many personal projects. When in doubt or ignorance, I asked Melvin. He was patient and helpful. 

I miss him as such a resource. 

I miss him in the Inquirer's Class. 

I miss him as a friend.

Tom

Ben

The character of a man reveals itself quickly to other men. . . and so did Melvin's.

It was evident from our enjoyable conversations that Melvin loved his family, was a patriot, and an honest individual with a real joy for living that he contagiously shared with others.

His love of the land, tree farming, and the outdoors was a common interest of all of us on the farm. We spent enjoyable times planting and planning.

Although I will deeply miss his friendship and physical presence at the farm, his spirit will always be there, and I feel his presence and remember him fondly every time I am there.

Ben

Toni

I viewed Melvin as a trusted, very intelligent friend. He was one of the most efficient people I've ever known. Some times "deep thinking" people can be dull or poor communicators. Melvin's personality was best marked by balance: in sense of humor, business efficiency, and logic.

I called on him more than once about having to care for an aging parent; we had that in common. Just a sentence or two from him would help me know how to handle yet another dilemma. 

I have had a journey in life about friendships. I have depended on a small group of friends to help me. Both Melvin and Jan are in the "special" circle.

It is a serious loss, a test of faith, because of his many, spontaneous contributions to those he met in the day-to-day. I can only imagine what a test of faith this is. But I can tell you that to have had a husband/father you can be proud of is a Gift.

Fondly,

Toni

2-29-08

Pat

Fond Memories

Having a young couple move to White Drive with children was so exciting!

I can still see you pushing Lady in a stroller.

Then there were too many memories to mention, but one that stands out is Melvin walking down the driveway as I was leaving from your baby shower (Alyson). 

Melvin said, "Now, it's your turn."

We laughed, and the following April, my youngest son was born!!! (I was 40.)

What a blessing our children are!

Love,

Pat

Joe & Becky

02/23/08

Becky and I can't look at much around our house that doesn't remind us of Melvin-flag pole, garden sheds, ceiling fans, etc. Was there anything he couldn't cheerfully do? We doubt it. To us-and I daresay to other "unhandy" homeowners hearabouts-he was truly a blessing.

One has earlier memories of course of the "faculty lounge" out on 45A. 

Fried pickles and fellowship, presided over by a genial Melvin.

We were stunned to read of his passing and still feel a sense of personal loss.

He left us much too soon. God bless him.

Sincerely,

Joe & Becky

Mildred & Paul

Feb. 17, 2008

Never did I think I would be writing this note.

I had recently looked again at our Christmas cards, and I treasure yours with that wonderful picture. Melvin was such a fine man and a "true gentleman" in every sense of the work. Paul and I both treasure the time that we worked with him when Harry Simrall died. There is no way to imagine how much you and the girls miss him, but I know your wonderful memories will carry you through with God's help. 

Most sincerely, 

Mildred

Toni

Melvin, intellectually, is what is known as a free thinker. His approach to life is always "outside the box." He could read culture/conventional wisdom without joining the fray. The most obvious trait of character is that he could be trusted. In the late 1990's, I left life as I knew it to get my mother out of legal trouble she did not deserve. Melvin - and Jan- provided the house of my dreams to live in, and be able to retire, which meant financially trusting me. Therefore, I look for ways to help others because of what Melvin and his family did for me.

Melvin's membership in this community is much like being a "dark horse." Without fanfare or glamour he has had a profound affect on the lives of people.

The funeral exposed that truth.

Fondly,
Toni

3-30-08

The Good, The Bad, and The Broken.

I am utterly amazed that it has been over four months since Dad died. I am never more than one second, one breath, one heartbeat from that fact. Yet, time is passing. And life is going on. 

The Good: The smallest things remind me of good things about Dad. I'll try to share a new list soon. 

The Bad: It has been long enough now that I can start to laugh about things I WON'T miss about Dad - though that list is still quite short. At this point, his coleslaw is definitely at the top. Yellow mustard and a little mayonnaise stirred into thinly sliced cabbage is NOT one of my favorite foods.

And then, there is The Broken.  Since Benjamin was very, very young, I have been fixing things that I honestly didn't know could break. Yesterday, my sister asked me if I could fix something. The text I sent back was swift and sure, "I am sure I can fix it. After all, I am not just Benjamin's mom, I'm also Melvin's daughter." My father - in spite of, or perhaps because of - the fact that he had only sisters and only daughters, has given me the skills I need to raise a son. 

Thanks, Dad.

Wonder Full

I've been trying for weeks to find a way to explain what I loved most about Dad.  Then, I watched Mr. Magoriums' Wonder Emporium. I didn't expect to cry all the way through a G-rated feel-good movie, and I certainly didn't expect for a movie to help me see Dad's life in a new way. But it did, and I'm glad. 

Let me explain. Mr. Magorium is the eccentric owner of a magical toy store. Despite appearing to be completely healthy, Mr. Magorium dies. Without its patriarch, the toy store is no longer the bright, sparkly, magical place it has always been. 

We are in a similar situation. Though Dad's way may have been unusual, we knew it by heart, and we loved it. He could make anything more fun. His smile was nearly ever-present (as so many of you have mentioned), but completely sincere. He was honestly that happy. He enjoyed life that much. Even his pictures and letters from Vietnam are full of fun and humor.  

Mr. Magorium instructs the store to face his departure with "determination, joy, and bravery." I think Dad would agree. 

The movie reminds us that all stories, even the ones we love the most, come to an end. And then, we are told to, "Turn the page. Continue reading. And let the next story begin." Certainly a voracious reader like Dad would want us to keep reading. Certainly someone so full of wonder would want us to seek the wonderful in the ordinary.  

Life without Dad seems dull right now, but we will find our sparkle again. 

Property _____?

The last time that Dad was at my house, we saw an ad for a new show on HGTV, Property Virgins, which follows first-time home buyers. 

Dad then turned to me, smiled, and said, "I'd hate to see what they would call me..."

I can't help but smile myself every time I see anything about that show.

Surprising

Dad had a lot of talents, but writing poetry was not on the list. When I found this, I knew I had to share it. Only Dad would use "lard" in a poem - you have to know how ingrained pigs were in his life to really appreciate that. 

I learned the story behind the poem from one of Dad's sisters. She was his accomplice in finding the lamp, and she believes this took place when Dad was a college freshman in 1963. 

He wrote this poem and wrapped it as a present for Grandmother instead of putting the lamp under the tree. It was a large wooden floor lamp with a built-in table. 

Pictures from Vietnam

Fathers of the Brides

As with most of the roles he filled,

Daddy was perfect as the Father of the Bride.

Perhaps it was the great example set by his own bride's father.

Or, perhaps it was the advice he received...

Don't Keep Keys in the Frig...

I am having a difficult time pointing out one memory, because there are so many, but this one I'll never forget.

The day I couldn't find my car keys.

Melvin, my husband and I looked everywhere; we even pulled out the trash at least three times before Melvin had to take a break and wash his hands. 

I finally remembered that I put them in the refrigerator.

I called out, "Melvin, I found them."

"Where were they?" he asked.

"They were in the frig."

He said, "Well, I even looked in there."

After that, he reminded my husband to make sure to take the extra set of keys home with him.

I'll never forget all of the good your Daddy did for so many. 

Love,  Lois

Waymon

 We had a great time growing up together.  I miss my friend - 

In the 9th grade, we took Ag (agriculture) - Melvin knew everything already - he knew all the answers & we "city slickers" didn't know a thing. He made an "A"  - we all barely made "C"s.  We were just glad to be out of Mr. Herring's class - but Melvin loved it because it was so easy for him - 

Thanks, Waymon

Clowning around.

This was the family Christmas card photo in 1999.

We were in clown costumes for Alexandrea's "special" birthday (she turned five on the fifth). What you don't see in this picture, is that our entire family was in costume.

So, here are the pictures to prove that we take clowning around very seriously. Dad was actually almost always a good sport about dressing in costume, (especially when the request came from one of his girls or grands).









Once in costume, Dad really got into his character, as you can see.

Harolyn

My memories of Melvin are 100% positive. Any time a person's name came up for discussion, he either said something complimentary or he said nothing. Likewise, when controversial or politically - explosive subjects entered the conversation, he managed to interject a little humor and made us smile. 

He truly added sunshine to our life!

Harolyn

School Days

For those of you (like me) who never knew Daddy without his mustache,
here are some treasures from the family archives.

Wow - what a difference a year makes!

The beginnings of crow's feet
- at SIXTEEN!
(Must be from the ever-present smile.)

1950's Snowman - Update!

I'm hoping that one of my aunts will be able to tell us why (and how) this snowman has such long arms. As with most things, Daddy probably had a story about it...

Dad's sister explained: As for the snowman, it had a plank stuck through it which he packed snow around to make arms for the snowman. Before, we had always put sticks for arms. I was in high school, so he was probably in junior high.

The really fascinating part of this story, for me, happened when I found this picture from 1992. According to Alyson, Dad helped her build the arms - the same way he had 40 years earlier!

Best Hog

from the Clarion-Ledger

Thursday, March 29, 1962

BEST HOG - The grand champion individual market hog of the recent Southeast Mississippi Livestock and Poultry Show at Forest was shown by Melvin Rhodes 16-year-old 4-H Club member from Brandon. It was a lightweight Duroc. Melvin also exhibited the grand champion pen of three market hogs. - Extension Service Photo

George

Melvin continues to do an outstanding job as a 4-H'er wherever he goes. I know you must be extremely proud of him.

I know he will learn a great deal on his trip -

Congratulations,

George

April 1964

Natalie

Melvin weaves in and out of the many memories accumulated during my more than thirty years in Starkville. 

• My earliest Starkville memories include riding around in the Len-Lew's parking lot on the back of some kind of small motorcycle (mo-ped?) that Melvin was giving people rides on and of seeing Tiffiny as a toddler standing on the bar at the Golden Horn. 
• Then there were the many conversations with Melvin on all kinds of topics when I saw him around town and the tours of old houses he was renovating. 
• With my move to White Drive came many more interactions with Melvin. I always felt good about that neighborhood because I knew that Melvin was watching out for it. 
• I remember the night when I had just gotten back into town and Melvin and Jan knocked on my door to tell me about the ghost that had called 911 while I was gone. 
• I remember learning from Melvin how to get rid of the stumps of fence posts by burning them with charcoal.
• I remember how dashing Melvin looked when he and Lady rode up at Lady and Matt's beautiful outdoor wedding. 

My list of memories could go on and on - including remembering something Jan said to me one time:

"Melvin is not just my husband; he's also my best friend."

What a beautiful relationship they had.

I simply cannot imagine Starkville without Melvin Rhodes!

Natalie

Sara

Although I didn't know Melvin as well as Jan, I do remember talking with him occasionally when he was very busy renovating a house. His talents and accomplishments are outstanding.

The faithful Christmas letters through the years portray him as a loving and caring husband, father, and grandfather. 

Our community has endured a great loss, but we are thankful for the memories and the gifts he has left us. 

Sara

Teacher

Most people know that Dad had a lot of jobs over the course of his life. (We used to joke about trying to make a complete list of them when he retired. Now that he won't be switching careers anymore, I would still like to finish that list, but I don't know that there is anyone who knows all the jobs Dad held through the years. ) One of the things that not a lot of people know is that Daddy graduated from Mississippi College with a degree in accounting. However, the way I understand it, he minored in all of the sciences they offered. I don't know if it was because of that formal education, but Dad had a way of applying the concepts of science to the here and now that most people just don't have. There are several phrases that we learned as little girls that I didn't truly understand until I was in college.

Some of Dad's favorites:

Gravity works.
Metal remembers.
Inertia.

Let me explain.
There were times I would think that I needed to secure something to the floor - say for example, a rug. Dad would find this to be unnecessary, because, "gravity works."

If a metal part on something was bent - in this case, let's say it was a fender - Dad would suggest that we "coax" it back into place, because, "metal remembers."

If you expressed concern about crossing a wooden bridge that had looked like it was about to fall in for as long as you have been alive, Dad would simply remind you that it was easier for the bridge to hold together than to fall down, because of inertia. (An object at rest stays at rest...).

He taught us to look at things in ways other people never see them.
He helped us to see the big picture.

So, in addition to the many other jobs Dad had, he was an amazing teacher.

Chelle

It has taken me a very long time to get to where I could verbalize exactly what Melvin meant to me and what I will remember the most.  it's hard to put into words.  

I can remember the first time I met him...it was Lorraine's graduation from MSMS.  The thing I remember the most is that he scared me to death.  He was so confident and strong.  I don't know why I expected anything else - knowing Lorraine as I did. 

I have a special memory of Melvin that I get to relive every single day when I walk in the back door of my house.  Melvin had made these wooden door mats for the Rhodes' house.  When I was down to visit one time I commented on how much I liked them.  He said he'd made them and they were easy to make.  I started quizzing him on how he did it, the tools he used, etc.  He asked me, "You wanna make one?  I'll show you how."  The next day, Melvin made a mat with me watching and then left me to make another.  It was the first time I'd ever used a table saw or a nail gun.  There were only brads in the nail gun, but that thing scared me to death.  I know Poppa had to be laughing his head off at me.  Thinking back, maybe that's why he left me alone outside to finish my mat - so he could watch me through the window and get a giggle. 

I have so many memories of Poppa.  He always talked to me like I was an adult - no matter how old I was.  He made me feel smart.  Every time something went wrong with my car, he was there.  Every time I needed advice on a house project, he was there.   

I will always remember the way that he looked at me when I held Alexandrea when she was a baby.  It was one of those looks of gratitude, love and amazement at this little being that would be a part of our lives from then on.   

As I got older and started looking for a husband myself, I remember consciously thinking about how strong Jan and Melvin's relationship was.  How I wanted to find someone that after 35 years I still wanted to hold hands with.   

I hate that I didn't get to tell Poppa goodbye, because I will truly miss him.   

June

Melvin, with his energy and love of people, will be missed in countless ways.

Alyson's Memories of Daddy

I am Daddy’s youngest girl. He always reminded me he was 37 when I was born, just like Granddaddy was when Daddy was born.

When I was little, he called me Nut, because I was cute as a nut. And one of my preschool teachers told him that he simply could not call one of his daughter’s “Nut.” It just wasn’t appropriate. So he stopped calling me Nut. A week or so later I asked him why he didn’t love me anymore. If he didn’t call me Nut, he obviously didn’t love me. He never failed to call me Nut throughout my childhood again, even when I adamantly protested. He called Cecelia Squirt. She called him Big Squirt.

While at MSMS I had a sculpture project that involved creating a bust of someone. Daddy was sweet enough to grow a beard for me so I would have less face to create for my project. After the numerous pictures I took I was able to convince him to shave off the beard into a goatee. He only kept it for a week even though I thought he looked hip and cool. I got in dorm suspension that same year while going to have pictures taken for Mom’s 50^th birthday. Daddy defended me fiercely, but to no avail. From then on whenever he signed me out, his name had a “UY” on the end. Mine did too after he explained that even though we couldn’t do anything about the situation we could quietly tell them “Up Yours.” I will miss his sense of humor and understanding of how the world works.

Daddy would make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches each morning. One for his breakfast, and one for each of us for lunch. In mine he would draw a heart, or a star, or a happy face, because when I was in preschool the mom of another child started the trend. After I had Cecelia, I called Daddy to tell him she was a girl, and I wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The first thing I did was open it to see if there was a message. It read I *heart* U.

Supposedly, Mom and Daddy had an agreement that she got up with us the first year, and he had to after that. Whenever we got sick in the night he would rush to our aid. He was amazingly talented at holding a wet wash cloth on our forehead with one hand and our ponytails with the other. I have never met anyone else that was that masterful, and greatly appreciated it when I was pregnant.

Daddy would read the Berenstain Bears books to me as a little girl. He would read through yawns and try to skip pages. When I tried the same tactics with my own daughter, he promptly notified me that he could not understand what I just said and I missed a page, with a twinkle in his eye.

He taught me to play pick-up sticks on hard surfaces, as he said playing on carpet was cheating. We would play dominoes for hours on end. First with double sixes, and then when our math skills improved double nines, and finally double twelves. His ability to work with numbers so quickly amazed me and I never realized until later he was teaching us while we played.

Daddy was an avid reader. Nothing in particular, just whatever book was nearby. We had a set bedtime but on more than one occasion it was overlooked if you were particularly swept up in a good book.

He and I would always go see the newest James Bond movies together and watch the marathon’s whenever they came on TV. I will miss laughing at them and him slowly finding out what was going on in my life without me realizing it.

He taught me to drive my car, the four-wheelers, and later the tractor, all experiences included at least one eyebrow of frustration being raised.

I will miss the twinkle in his eyes and his crow’s feet. I look so much like mom, but I knew I had his eyes. I always wondered what his crow’s feet would look like when he got old and how long it would take mine to get that deep.

I ran cross-country in junior high. He fought me tooth and nail over it because he said it was bad on your knees. Eventually he let me run, but one particular day I didn’t feel like running and he said he would run with me. I had never seen him run before or since, but that day he ran with me, well way ahead of me, and when I was ready to stop, he told me he would run another lap. I was sitting panting in the driveway when he came back around. He picked up the newspaper and went inside to read and not once was he out of breath. I will miss being amazed by what he was capable of.

I played softball when I was ten. Mom washed my uniform before the game but my sports bra accidentally got left in the washer. While I got ready to go, Daddy sat in the bathroom drying my sports bra with a hair-dryer. I seriously doubt it phased him.

Daddy taught us to be independent, open minded, and strong females. I will miss not be able to go to him and debate politics and social mores.

I don’t drink coffee. Instead I follow Daddy’s lead and have a can of coke each morning. Christmas morning he bounced in the house at 6:30 with a coke stuffed in each coat pocket. One for him, and one for me, just in case I didn’t have any in the fridge. (I just put a pack in the night before to make sure I was ready.)

Junior high was rough for me considering I was a foot taller than anyone else, including my crush. While I sobbed my worries away each afternoon, Daddy would come in and rub my hair and tell me that he loved me, I was smart, and beautiful, and funny, and if some boy couldn’t see that, they didn’t deserve me. It didn’t help the crush, but I never doubted any of the rest. I will miss him being able to give me confidence in a way no one else can.

Mustachioed Motorcycle Man

From Imogene:

I will never forget the first time I saw Melvin.

We had just moved from Ohio to a little house on Kirkside on August 2, 1982. We rented this house from Jan's boss and found it literally crawling with bugs. I called the landlord and told him that something had to be done about this problem immediately. He promised to send someone to spray.

A couple of hours later, this motorcycle roared into the driveway, and a mustachioed (and I think I remember, bearded) man crawled off with a sprayer on his back.

Whoa - I called the landlord and asked about this strange guy.

On his assurance, Melvin and I became acquainted - and friends.

Ann and Bud

Whenever we share memories of Mississippi with new friends, it always includes at least one story of Melvin.

He was and is a great man - a loving family man who worked hard but enjoyed life. We always loved his smile and amusing stories. We will always remember and treasure him in our hearts.

Daddy's "Eldest" Girl

I don't think it is fair for me to ask for your memories without sharing my own, so I've started a list.

I'll be adding to it. Often.

I'll miss all the big things that everyone has mentioned, but it is the thousand-million little things that I'll miss the most.

No one else has ever told me that he'll be home "at dark-thirty."

I never really loved using the term "bones" for dominoes, but will anyone ever ask me again if I want to "rattle 'em bones"?

Daddy was the best shot I have ever seen - with a rubber band. He could hit anything, or anyone, and he made it look effortless. We gave him a rubber band gun a while back, but he didn't use it - he only needed his hand.

When one of us was being particularly awkward or uncoordinated, Daddy would say,
"Way to go, Grace."
When it was all three of us, he announced us as "Talent, Grace, and Coordination."

I miss the raised eyebrow.
A lot.

Other people want to see how the dress looks on the girl. Daddy wanted to see how The GIRL (or, more specifically, HIS GIRL) looks in the dress.

I never saw Daddy without his moustache. I didn't really think I ever would, but it was fun to joke about him shaving it off and showing up at some important event to surprise us.

Aly has had several nicknames through the years, but only Daddy called her "Nut".

I miss the voice that got so deep it growled like thunder - when he was furious. (Remember how you couldn't even understand the words, you could just hear the rumbling when the Board of Aldermen meetings were on television?)

Mardi Gras is only a few weeks away, and the parades have already started here. We always catch dozens more Moon Pies than we can eat, and we save the rest for Poppa. Who will eat them now?

(Note: We found an answer for this at the very first parade - Poppa's Grandson loves Moon Pies as much as Poppa did!)

Every time that I can remember calling Daddy, he answered with "Hey, Girl!" He never once just said hello, and he always sounded thrilled that I had called - no matter where or when or why I was calling.

Missing my Daddy, Tiff