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This Tribute was provided by Gracie Lawson
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Several years ago I couldn't imagine life without Pop. My mom died when I was born so he's been it for me. He's always been a stone's throw away. Now I am without my father, but I am blessed with many wonderful memories.
I remember the huge family picnics at the park. All the aunties and uncles, my grandparents, cousins, nieces and nephews, the whole clan. One big reunion. Every other weekend! The food everyone would bring. Mouthwatering to think about it now. The games we'd play and the stories we'd hear from the older folks - we never tired of them. I can see Pop now running around with a camera that appeared to be glued to his face capturing all of us in hundreds and hundreds of photos. These were such happy times.
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When we were older, teenagers, the picnics continued, but more and more of us were busy with other things and they were never the huge events I remember. After Nanny and Gampy died we were lucky to get together once or twice during the summer. Now a few of us continue the tradition, getting together at least twice during July and August. We carry on the storytelling, hoping the younger ones will remember and tell the stories in years to come, especially the stories about our grandparents and now my dad.
Pop didn't talk a whole lot about what it was like growing up in a southern city during the thirties and forties and about his life during the sixties before I knew him. We asked him questions but he always said, "that was the past, this is the present, now let's get on with the future." I can only talk about his life from when I was growing up.
He was extremely dedicated to the Southern Sentinel and, I remember many times he would have a deadline and shut himself up in his bedroom where he worked when he was home. He let it be known he could be interrupted, but my brother and I knew he needed this time and we made sure he wasn't disturbed even the time the bats flew out of the fireplace into the living room. Will was about 11 and I was only 5. I remember Will yelling at me to get into the coat closet. No way was I leaving the scene of such a terrific to-do. Will said later there were only five, but to me there seemed to be thousands of them all flapping and swooping. I hid behind the sofa so I could watch the action. Will got some towels and snapped a couple out of the air to the floor where he wrapped them up and took them outside. The others he managed to get out the door somehow. Pop appeared just as the last one was flying off into the night. He had heard all the shouting and thought the house was caving in! He told Will he was proud of him and of me for being so brave, but whenever he told the story, he always said he'd wished he'd gotten pictures!
Pop was advisor to our Youth Fellowship at the church when I was a teen. We met every Sunday evening and Pop would have different things planned. We'd put on plays and have dances to raise money for various church projects. One fund-raising event we planned was a spaghetti supper. Now Pop, after all these years housekeeping for just the three of us, was a pretty good cook and he was making the sauce. A ton of it, since we expected the whole congregation and then some. We all had jobs and even today, I can't chop an onion without remembering that supper. Pots and pots of bubbling sauce, the first batch of pasta ready to go, the bread buttered and garlicked and where were our patrons? For $2.50 each, they should've been hammering down the door. I could see Pop getting a little worried. Then one person came and happened to bring the flyer announcing our event. Oh, brother. The flyer said 5:30 pm. It was to have said 5 pm. Sure enough, 5:30 pm they were hammering down the door! Success, and Pop didn't have to freeze 50 quarts of sauce. For years, Pop made the sauce for this annual event and what wasn't consumed, he sold. Every last drop of it. I can taste it now!
My father had the best voice. For years, he sang with the church choir, the only baritone. The group was amazing, so good they would be asked to perform at other churches in the area. We loved it. The guy with the real deep voice, that's my dad, we'd tell everyone within earshot! Occasionally, he would lend his magnificent voice to the Seville Four, a local barbershop quartet.
When I was about twelve, Pop sat me down and, yes, he talked to me about the birds and bees, but mostly he talked about me, about how I could do anything and become anything I wanted. Goals and hard work to realize those goals and nothing would stop me. This made the biggest impression on me. For years to come, he was always my main support group. When something didn't work out, he would tell me that that was just a necessary experience towards the end result. When I succeeded, he was there waving the flag.
I never knew my mother, so I can only miss the fact that I didn't have one. My dad, however, was both mother and father to me, so he shall be doubly missed. I cherish my years with him and I will continue to be the person he knew I could be and a daughter he would be very proud of.
You were the best dad. I love you and I'll miss you very much.
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