The first in a series of thankful reflections

The Chief Love and Comfort Officer at the Fort Worth Ronald McDonald House is a friendly, black and white, five-year-old Australian Labradoodle. Chief’s job is to help relieve stress, play, and help families in any way possible during their stay at the Fort Worth Ronald McDonald House.

If you are wondering ‘who is a good boy?’…Chief fits the bill.

What a blessing it is to those who are spending time at the Ronald McDonald House to have a loving companion greet them each day when returning to their home away from home. Unconditional love and comfort…

I was lucky enough to meet Chief recently when we visited my friend, Lauri Adams at Ronald McDonald House. My wife and I volunteer to serve meals there from time to time. Not too long ago, Lauri gave us a house tour which included some
one-on-one time with the Chief Love and Comfort Officer. Lauri is the COO of the Fort Worth Ronald McDonald House and also Chief’s Mom.

Lauri is a talented woman. In addition to the responsibility of being Chief’s handler, she oversees the operation of this supportive home-like community that eases the burdens of seriously ill children and their families. Such responsibility includes a staff of sixteen house relations team members, fifty-seven bedrooms each with their own private bath, laundry facilities, play areas, and daily warm meals in the community kitchen.

Lately, the House has been at full capacity and full capacity indicates the need for additional donations. Those donations include monetary support from the community and also gifts of supplies. In the past few months, Pam and I have donated not only funds, but also paper towels, individual breakfast cereal boxes, and serving gloves to their cause.

I think that Lauri has her hands full offering hospitality to the families staying at the house, maintaining supplies to continue the operation, overseeing the staff, and ensuring that the facility is maintained properly. I am thankful for the dedication of my friend, who, had she chosen to take her skills to the corporate world, would undoubtedly be highly compensated for her abilities.

When I asked about her decision to give herself fully to the mission of the Ronald McDonald House, she described her choice as one of love, a privilege, and an honor to be a part of such a wonderful community. Lauri told me that she doesn’t have bad days, as she is a first-hand witness to the results of the efforts of a village coming together to provide for those away from home for their children with illnesses.

“I love walking through those front doors every day”, Lauri told me.

For more than twenty years, Lauri Adams has dedicated her efforts to easing the burdens of those whose lives have been interrupted by childhood illness. By my count, more than ten thousand families have been able to take refuge at the Fort Worth Ronald McDonald House during her tenure.

Today I am thankful for the ongoing mission of the Ronald McDonald House of Fort Worth, and for the work of all the employees and volunteers that make those goals come true. These community servants make difficult situations more manageable for many hurting families.

And…I am thankful for a good boy named Chief, who models his unconditional love and comfort on the example that his mom has been displaying for more than twenty years. Thank you, Lauri, for sharing your expression of love and comfort for all to see!

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,
KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

To learn more about the work of the Ronald McDonald House in Fort Worth, please visit: https://rmhfw.org/

From my earliest days, I have been aware of smart watches.  Detective Dick Tracy wore a version of a smart watch and communicated with police headquarters via a two-way radio/watch in the 1960’s version of the daily Dick Tracy comic strip.  The concept of communicating through a wristwatch was a futuristic dream for children born during the Eisenhower administration, but then, there have been a lot of technological breakthroughs during the next sixty years…

Fast forward to the present day.  I have become deaf in the past few years. To help me adjust to the silence around me, one of my children bought me an Apple Watch.  Now, when I receive a text message, the watch vibrates to alert me to the incoming message.  It is also linked with my doorbell and when a visitor arrives, a message appears on the screen indicating that ‘someone is at your door’.  Very handy for a deaf guy…

I am doing a disservice to Apple Watches here.  There are many really nice features available to those wearing an Apple Watch, but the doorbell and text messages have been the most prominently used benefits for this wearer…until now.

On the Friday before Memorial Day, I returned to my home office late in the day to do some computer work.  I was not feeling my best that day, a little light-headed and sluggish, but I had attributed those symptoms to the aftereffects of donating blood.  On Wednesday of that week, I stopped by the American Red Cross and donated my 265^th unit of blood and, when I was feeling a bit droopy afterward, I just assumed that my symptoms were a result of that donation.

I settled into an office chair and pulled up my email.  I was responding via email to a customer when my watch vibrated and flashed a message. 

‘Your heart rate has been below forty beats per minute for ten minutes.’

1. I did not realize until that moment that my Apple Watch was monitoring my heart rate.

2. I had no idea what the consequences of a heart rate below forty indicated.

A quick Google search indicated that I should seek some medical help.  Maybe not the best decision of my life, but since my wife was out of town at a conference, I drove myself to my doctor’s office (less than a mile away).  I explained to the receptionist at the doctor’s office that I was deaf, alone (my wife was out of town), and that my heart rate was under forty beats per minute.  She responded quickly and I was soon getting an EKG.

The physician on call that afternoon shared the news with me.  I would need to get to the nearest emergency room, and I should expect to be admitted.  He typed a note to me telling me that I should plan on staying at the hospital until I received a pacemaker. He made a call to one of my daughters and explained the situation.  She arranged transportation to the hospital.  Friends met me at the hospital and stayed with me until my daughter arrived.

I was admitted; my low heart rate sent me to ICU for monitoring during the holiday weekend, and on the Tuesday after Memorial Day, I received a pacemaker.

Today the cardiologist gave me a post-op exam and cleared me to resume normal activities. What a crazy turn of events! I am truly blessed. I’m no Dick Tracy, (but I do wear an Apple Watch) and after having time to contemplate such things over a long weekend in ICU … I think you should too!

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

The sounds of the holidays…I can hear the bells ringing and the Heavenly Hosts singing Alleluia…I can hear these things in joyous memories from Christmases past. 

I am a late deafened adult.  I have been deaf for approximately six years now, but I still associate the holidays with those auditory pleasures.  And that can be an obstacle to overcome when others are currently enjoying those sleigh bells jingling, ring-tingle, tingling, too.

Just last weekend, I dialed in YouTube on my iPad and selected an Elvis Christmas album.  With modern technology, I can Bluetooth the music from my iPad directly to my cochlear implants and while music doesn’t sound like I remember it from years gone by, I can sometimes make out the lyrics and follow along.  On this particular day, I was able to understand the lyrics to several Elvis songs including ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.’

I don’t think that I had ever really considered the words to ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas’ before, but on this day this one line stuck with me:

And the thing that will make them ring
Is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.

Later that day, my wife and I attended a holiday party at the home of some old friends.  There were twenty or so people attending and as such, there were likely ten separate conversations occurring at the same time.  For a person with cochlear implants, this situation creates ‘functional deafness’.  It isn’t quiet by any means, but rather, it is so loud that words are indistinguishable.  Recognizing a familiar situation, I made my way to the buffet line and quickly settled into a secluded corner with a plate of holiday treats.  I found myself watching the body language of the party guests and entertained myself by assigning my own dialogue to the interactions playing out before me.  It was entertaining, but also a rather lonely exercise.

That evening, my wife and I had errands to run and while we were out we stopped for dinner.  The restaurant was packed, and the noise level was high.   I found myself again slipping into an isolated situation as ‘functional deafness’ made communicating difficult. 

The next morning, I received a note from my minister explaining that there would be no sermon that day because the worship time would be filled with the sounds of a Christmas Cantata.  Attached were the printed versions of the scripture and the prayers so that I could follow along with that portion of the service.  Would I be attending that day? 

I replied back that I would not be attending because I cannot hear live music and it would make me sad to see (but not hear) the choir sing so many beautiful Christmas Carols. 

When my wife suggested that we attend a local service together at a different church, I agreed.  Busy schedules required that we travel separately to the service.  My wife arrived first and found a seat in the back.  When I arrived to join her, I was a little disappointed to be seated too far away to effectively read the minister’s lips.  So, after a few minutes of picking up a word or phrase on occasion, I turned my attention to the bulletin and decided to read the scripture for the day. 

Those born during the Eisenhower administration can probably relate to what went through my mind when I saw the scripture…

Linus. 

In the animated cartoon, ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’, Charlie shouts “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?’  Linus then proceeds to recite scripture from the Book of Luke that tells the Christmas story.  Sunday’s scripture was the Christmas story from the Book of Luke.

I was reading those familiar words and if I am honest, as I did so, I was feeling rather sorry for myself.  The minister was speaking but he sounded a lot like Charlie Brown’s teacher giving a lecture.  Waa, waa, waa. It seemed as if the entire weekend had been Charlie Brown’s teacher lecturing on a loop.

And then it happened…rather clearly, I could hear the minister saying the phrase ‘for everyone’ and it caught my attention.  I looked up, focused on his face and strained to read his lips as he said, ‘The angel appeared to the shepherds who were living in the field and said,

“I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people”.’

And it made me think that the Good News might even apply to the disabled…to borrow a phrase from the minister,

‘All the people.  Yes, even you!’

I left the chapel last Sunday with a little more spring in my step having been reminded that Linus’ message from the Book of Luke is for everyone…even the deaf.  And I put that message on my heart.

I look forward to making some Christmas bells ring this year because…

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas and soon the bells will start.
And the thing that will make them ring
Is the carol that I’ll sing
Right within my heart.

This holiday season, give the gift of music.  Let your heart sing and soon the bells will start…

Thanks for listening and happy holidays!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

Luke 2: 8-14 KJV

8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

A tribute to Justin Turner.

I did not know JT well.  We crossed paths a few times because his dad and I have been friends for many years.  Jim often shared stories of his son JT’s success at the ballpark. And thus, my memories of JT seem to be centered on a kid in a baseball jersey, but it is clear that JT’s life involved much more than baseball. Athletic prowess was but a small part of JT’s story.

Last week when I heard the news about JT’s accident, I began monitoring the vigil in Lubbock.  It was clear from the accounts shared online that JT was beloved.  The hospital corridors overflowed with Texas Tech friends standing vigil.  And then came the ‘Honor Walk’ post…video showed the hallways of the hospital lined with college students, friends, and hospital staff all paying tribute to a young man as he is wheeled to the operating room to donate his organs to others.  One post shared that ‘nine families are rejoicing today by receiving Justin’s heart, liver, pancreas, lungs(2 recipients), kidneys (2 recipients) and corneas (2 recipients). Additionally, his tissue, bones and skin will help hundreds of others.’  And I thought to myself that it was fitting that JT was leaving behind nine players to carry on…his own ‘team’ of recipients.

Did you ever know that you’re my hero,

And everything I would like to be?

Today, two people are able to see their loved ones again after receiving corneal transplants.  Perhaps they will be able to watch a little league game or enjoy a high school graduation.  Maybe they will simply rejoice in the beauty of a sunrise or the smile on a grandchild’s face because of the selfless act of a Red Raider from Texas Tech.

Two people who have struggled with drawing a breath to complete even the most basic activities have been given the gift of life.  Today two people are breathing easier because of a good kid from Bedford, TX.

Today, a diabetic patient has a replacement pancreas to produce insulin and control blood sugar levels because of a good guy from Sigma Chi.

Perhaps someone with liver cancer will be able to celebrate birthdays with their children and grandchildren after a replacement from a former Blue Raider at LD Bell High School.

Two people are off dialysis today after a kidney transplant provided by a true Texas hero.

And today, some lucky recipient received the biggest heart ever transplanted because of a loving donation from Jim and Jan’s son.

Nine people… JT’s legacy team…will continue to share his love with the world.  He may not be here with us, but his legacy will endure as these nine lucky recipients celebrate life and soar like eagles.

I can fly higher than an eagle,

For you are the wind beneath my wings!

Thanks for listening and thank God for the life and love of Justin Wade Turner!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

I lost my most loyal friend today.

Red was a 13.5-year-old bundle of love.  On Father’s Day weekend, 2010 my daughter Katie, insisted that we visit the local Humane Society.  Red was just a pup and had been in the shelter for an extended amount of time.  She had two strikes against her already and needed to find a home soon.  Red caught my eye and stole my heart.

Red had some peculiar habits.   She did not show affection by licking…not hands, not faces.  She was known to put her nose inches from yours and stare into your eyes, but no licking.

If you gave her a scratch behind the ears and for some reason you stopped, she would very slowly raise a paw, and place it on your arm to remind you that she deserved more attention.

And, when you caught her attention, she was likely to cock her head to one side and give you a quizzical look with one ear up and one ear flopped.  Pretty cute…

When Red came to live with us, my job required frequent travel throughout the state and when I traveled to the Austin area, I would often take Red with me, and she would visit my girls.  On these trips to Austin, Red learned to ride shotgun in my truck.  She would sit upright, almost statuesque for the first portion of every ride.  She continued to ride shotgun with me for the next 12 years or so until joint pain made it difficult for her to get in and out of my truck.

Anytime that I left the house, my most loyal friend would be the first to greet me upon my return.  Five minutes, or five days, Red would greet me at the door with a friendly wag of the tail and then follow closely, always by my side, ever loyal.  That’s what good dogs do…

Red and I shared the same hair color and got grey around the temples at approximately the same time.  When I became deaf, Red stayed by my side and notified me when the doorbell would ring or when visitors would approach. 

We shared thirteen and a half good years together and I couldn’t dream of having a better companion.  I appreciate Dr Dozier for helping me with the hardest decision, and for her kind and loving care for Red-dog.

I already miss my friend.  But I know that if I can somehow earn a place inside the Pearly Gates, that upon my arrival, I will be greeted by a familiar face…head cocked just to one side, with one ear up and one floppy ear.  I’ll get a friendly wag of the tail. After all…that’s what good dogs do.

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

A Tribute to my friend, Dr. Alan Lobaugh, upon his retirement.

He did not walk right up and extend a hand while saying, Hi, I’m Alan. Will you be my friend?

But close…It was more subtle, it needed time to evolve… it was August of 2001, when I met my friend Alan Lobaugh. He and his family were moving to Fort Worth.

We would both be attending University Christian Church,
We were both born during the Eisenhower Administration,
Our children were approximately the same ages and would be attending school together,
We were both sports fans,
At the time, we both had red hair…
And thus, the conversation began.

I am guessing that our friendship started like most friendships, through those commonalities…but I do recall that we hit it off right away.

Now, if you have ever received a non-business email from me or read musings from My Silent Pew then you might recall that I customarily sign off with ‘Your friend, KBM’.

I do not do this lightly, I believe that by putting it in writing, then I have made a mini promise to you…to be your friend. For me it is the ultimate compliment…that you will share your time here on earth with me while calling me a friend. And, I have always believed that one can never receive too many prayers or have too many friends. With his pending retirement, I have been reflecting this week on my friendship with Dr. Alan Lobaugh.

It occurs to me that one thing that Alan and I have in common is that we were both exposed to some wonderful music in our formative years. This week, the song looped on my mental jukebox, was written by Carole King, and was included on her Tapestry album in 1971. That same year, James Taylor included his number one version of You’ve Got a Friend on his award-winning album, Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon. How I wish that I could tell you that the reason that this song resonates with me is because I have lived up to the heartfelt message of these lyrics by being a wonderful friend to Alan. But, like so many others, I cherish the lyrics to this tune because he has lived those words for me. You’ve Got a Friend begins with these words…

When you’re down and troubled
And you need some lovin’ care
And nothin’, oh’ nothin’ is goin’ right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night…

Not long after the Lobaugh family arrived in Fort Worth, my father was diagnosed with stage four cancer. You know how these stories go, grim reports from the doctors, hospital stays, unimaginable treatments, and eventual hospice care. The mental toll on the survivors was heavy, but through it all I was blessed with a friend who lived up to Carole’s promise…

You just call out my name
And you know, wherever I am
I’ll come runnin’
To see you again…

I recall seeing Alan in the narthex of the chapel on the day of Dad’s funeral. He gave me a hug, telling me that I did a fine job on the eulogy. Then he shared these words that I have kept on my heart, Although I did not know your father, you described a man with many fine qualities, and I believe that he has passed them on to you.

A few years later, one of my oldest friends went missing. His elderly parents were beside themselves with worry and reached out to me for support. After several weeks of searching and coming up with little to indicate a happy outcome, I received a call from the police department indicating that they had found my friend’s body.

Could I meet them to deliver the news to his parents? Of course, the answer
was yes, but I was completely untrained for such an event. I made a quick call and put my friend Alan on the spot…could he offer any advice to an untrained messenger?

Alan shared some sage advice and offered his prayers for my ordeal. A few days later, just before the funeral, Alan found me standing alongside the pallbearers and he let me know that he was there at the service for me, to share his love and support.

If the sky above you
Grows dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together
And call my name out loud
Soon you’ll hear me knockin’ upon your door…

Alan has always told me that he would be there for me. There, in the service, there, always available for support, there, to talk, or very often, literally just to be there, with me, quietly offering an unspoken gesture of friendship.

In between all these events, life happened.

In October of 2004 at Forest Park in Fort Worth, Alan introduced me to a TCU student named Tiffany Austin. Tiff would be taking over our Youth Ministry position at church. I whispered to Alan that Tiff seemed a little subdued to be a Youth Minister, and Alan wisely suggested that he had no doubt that Tiff would do a wonderful job with our children. Life does come around…

Our kids were baptized, had their first communions, spoke at Youth Sunday events, and celebrated at high school graduations and college graduations. He and I attended baseball games, basketball games, and too many lunches to mention. He has always been there, always supportive. He has mentored Katie, and performed the marriage ceremony for Elizabeth and Andrew.

All of these events remind me of how one sided this friendship has been, but…it also reminds me that I can start working now to reciprocate.

So, let me begin by saying thank you. Thank you for shining the light of God’s love on me for the past twenty-two years!

While I am very sad for this day to come when Alan will no longer be in the pulpit, I am thrilled to be able to say to Alan that, as you move on, I would like you to remember these words:

Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there, yes, I will…
You’ve got a friend!

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

Squeeze in with me, we are crowded around an upright piano in my great-grandmother’s home.  My aunt Esther is tickling the ivories and my less than musically gifted relatives are endeavoring to sing-along to whatever hymn she has chosen to play.

My great-great uncle Lambert has joined us, and he always requests I’ll Fly Away.  Uncle Lambert is a gentle giant.  He probably does not really deserve the ‘giant’ description, but he is a big man.  And since he is my great, great uncle, he is appropriately old.  Age, however, cannot hide the fact that he grew up working in the fields.  At eighty something, he is tall, still has broad shoulders, and hands the size of a catcher’s mitt.

Uncle Lambert has a voice that belies his stature.  He is kind and soft spoken…well, soft spoken until Aunt Esther plays, I’ll Fly Away.  When that song begins, we children see a side of Uncle Lambert that we have never seen before.

Some glad morning when this life is over,
I’ll fly away…
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away!

Uncle Lambert is always happy to lead the chorus in full-throated joy when he hears I’ll Fly Away.

It is funny how hearing certain songs will take you back to a time and location every time you hear those lyrics.  I suppose that I will always think of my great-grandmother’s home and my Uncle Lambert every time I think of, I’ll Fly Away.

I have been deaf for six years now and will testify that I miss music.  I still have pleasant memories of musical associations, but how I do miss hearing the notes!  While I don’t hear music in the same manner that others do, (I hear tunes on my mental jukebox) those musical associations still take me back in time.

I think of my friend Greg every time I ‘hear’ Jerry Jeff Walker’s
Little Bird. 

Picture of my face
On the windowpane,
Is it tears I see or is it rain?

I think of Miss Willie Austin’s fifth grade class every time I ‘hear’ Texas, Our Texas.

Texas, our Texas! All hail the mighty State!
Texas, our Texas! So wonderful, so great!

I think of my grandmother Rada every time I hear New San Antonio Rose:

Moon in all your splendor, known only to my heart
Call back my rose, rose of San Antone
Lips so sweet and tender, like petals fallin’ apart
Speak once again of my love, my own.

Rada loved Bob Wills…

I think of my friend, Lee every time I ‘hear’ On Eagle’s Wings.  At his funeral the choir sang:

And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of His hand.

And I think of Dad every time I ‘hear’ Big Bad John:

Ev’ry mornin’ at the mine you could see him arrive
He stood six foot six and weighed 245
Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip
And everybody knew, ya didn’t give no lip to Big John…

Like my hearing, Greg, Miss Willie, Rada, Lee, and Dad are all gone now.  But I can pull up those tunes on my mental jukebox and be transported back to those glorious days when those tunes were indelibly written on my heart. 

And I know that One glad morning when this life is o’er, we will all be reunited around an upright piano and on that day the sounds of beautiful music will fill my ears, I will once again hear Uncle Lambert when he leads a chorus of, I’ll Fly away.

Just a few more weary days and then
I’ll fly away
To a land where joy shall never end
I’ll fly away

I’ll fly away, oh, Glory
I’ll fly away.
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by
I’ll fly away.

Wishing for each of you, joyful memories, and hearts full of music!

Thanks for listening!

Hallelujah, by and by…

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

I can name exactly one…one, Joe Cocker song.  No, don’t roll your eyes.  The only music I have heard for the last six years was played on my mental jukebox and when I double checked that playlist this morning, the name Joe Cocker only appeared once.  I was checking today because I have had a version of You Are So Beautiful stuck on my playlist for a few days and I was wondering if I might be missing the flip side of a 45 RPM.  No apparently not… It’s Valentine’s Day and I’ve got that one Joe Cocker tune on a loop in my head.

You are so beautiful
To me…
You are so beautiful
To me…
Can’t you see?
You’re everything I hoped for!
You’re everything I need!
You are so beautiful
To me…

In days gone by, I used to tell a story about how Pam and I first met.  After years of her head shake, shake, shaking through each story, I have relabeled that memory as the beginning of a love story. I relabeled it because she could always deny that my story reflected the first time that we actually met but she can’t deny my side of a love story…

September 1975
Paschal High School
Fort Worth, TX

I was at my locker half-way down the hall.  My best friend rounded the corner into the hallway walking next to a beautiful girl.  They approached me and my friend introduced me to a freshman with long blonde hair, an endearing laugh, and sparkles in her eyes. 

Just a few months earlier, in January of 1975, Joe Cocker had hit the charts with You are so Beautiful, so it wasn’t a surprise that after our brief meeting, I headed off to class humming a familiar tune.

You are so beautiful
To me…

Fast forward a few years…I found myself standing at the altar of Robert Carr Chapel looking down the aisle at the most beautiful bride that I have ever seen.

You are so beautiful
To me…

Can’t you see?

Ok.  This is where the head shaking comes in.  I pulled up the lyrics today to check spelling, punctuation, and accuracy and was surprised to learn that Can’t you see? appears in each verse although my mental jukebox had Yes indeed in the second stanza.  I can ‘hear’ Joe Cocker stretching Yes, indeed into a five-syllable phrase.

How could I be wrong about that?  I guess now I understand all of that head shaking.

Can’t you see?

Late April/Early May 1991

Pam was, as it is said…‘great with child’.  She had found herself in an awkward position on her back and was having a difficult time getting up.  She asked for a hand and when I turned to offer some help, I looked in her eyes and saw the beginning of a wave of tears.  I helped her up and she buried her face in my shirt.  How can you love me looking like this? she sobbed.  I don’t remember my exact words but…I do know this:

You are everything I hoped for!

June 2017
Chili’s Restaurant

The server stopped at our table and asked for a drink order.  As is customary, in just a few minutes she returned with the drinks, pulled out an order pad, looked at us and mouthed the words What would you like to eat?  I thought one of the girls had tipped the server to tease me about losing my hearing. But when I looked at them, they were ordering their meals.  Oh no…

Fast forward to Super Bowl Sunday, 2023

A server approaches our table and asks for our order.  Pam orders our meal and when the server responds with a question, Pam signs the question to me, waits for my answer, and then verbally answers the server.

You’re everything I need!

It has now been forty-six and a half years since the beginning of that love story.  I can no longer hear her endearing laugh, her blonde hair has given way to silver, but I still see the sparkle in her eyes…and

You are so beautiful
To me…

Yes, indeed!

Happy Valentine’s Day, 2023.

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com

I was up early this morning, it was five-something so…very early for me. I took a look at my iPad and saw a post from my friend Brooks’ daughter, Lily. The post began:
It has been one year since I lost my best friend and parent…a lot has happened since you left this world.

Call me nostalgic if you must…but the post reminded me that I have a one-year-old text message on my cell phone that reads:

I’m here early.

One year ago today, I made the twenty-minute drive west to Brooks’ house to pick him up and take him to a doctor’s appointment in Dallas. Brooks was ill…very ill.
I knew, as I suspect that most people would instinctively know, that there is always the chance when stopping to pick up a patient that issues might arise.

As I neared Brooks’ home, traffic was stopped and I sent that quick text to my friend,

I’m here early.

I pulled into his driveway and hopped out of my truck. One of my turn signals was not operating correctly and I raised the hood of my truck to check the connection…a two-minute process. As I lowered the hood, it occurred to me that I hadn’t felt a vibration from a returned text message. I checked my phone.

My three-word message was the last entry.

Things looked eerily quiet at his home as I made my way up the walk and a terrible sense of dread swept over me. I won’t go into details but the realization that it was time to be an adult and face a grim reality was upon me before I opened the door.

The next hour was chaotic as this deaf man maneuvered the 911 call and some interactions with questioning Sheriff’s Deputies.

I will admit that I originally saved that text because it helped me establish a timeline with the Sheriff’s Dept. But after a few days when they had asked me specifics about why I was there and what time I arrived, I became nostalgic and did not delete the text.

This morning, one year later it was still on my phone and seeing it took me back more than fifty years.

Brooks and I attended elementary school together. I recall him playing Little League on an undefeated Eagles squad from Westcliff Elementary. Brooks was quick as lightning and could bunt much better than typical kids our age. Once, I remember him placing a well-timed bunt and flying all the way to third base before the dust settled.

I recall him attending my birthday party in 1972 during the first year that the Texas Rangers were in Texas. The Rangers played at the old Turnpike Stadium that night and Dizzy Dean threw out the first pitch.

In high school, he once taught me that his was the fastest car around and also taught me to not ride with him anymore (all during the same encounter).

After college graduation, he played in my annual golf tournament for more than thirty years.

Recently, he and I gathered some friends and (under his direction) built a wheel-chair ramp for a high school classmate that was mobility impaired.

After more than fifty years of friendship. I readily admit to being nostalgic…

This morning before sunrise, I read a beautiful tribute to a father that had prepared a young woman to sell a house, file taxes on her own, deal with attorneys to settle probate, and to purchase her first home.

Lily spoke of the gift of independence based on the support of her loving father.

Her story of a man taken from us too soon made me think of that text again.

I believe that on January 18, 2022, my friend Brooks actually heard those words as an invitation when he made his way to heaven.

Brooks, I am here early…

So, to you, my brother, thank you for more than fifty years of friendship! And as you likely already know, this morning I re-read that text, I wrote the words on my heart, and I removed the nostalgic message.

Rest easy my friend!

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,
KBM
Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com