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Dalton
Roberts |
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In Felicia These Fish are Delicious (www.dancinggoatpress.com) my favorite novelist, Max Yoho, wrote: “The great tragedy of death is not death itself, but the loss of accumulated wisdom. It also occurred to me that despite my advancing years, surprisingly few young people are pounding on my door for my thoughts and opinions. For two cents I'd take my secrets with me to the grave. But I'm just not that kind of guy.” He went on to share his greatest life pearls, such as, “In doing penance, an 8-oz. serving of liver is equal to 862 Hail Mary's.” Someone wrote a line I love that says the tragedy of each death is that you are burying a library when you bury an old person. The greater tragedy is that we seldom download that library while the person is alive. A few years ago the late Judge Raulston Schoolfied told me he had gone to Chattanooga State or WTCI to tape some of his memories. He said several other seniors had been invited to do the same and I hope someone will read this and tell me if these recordings are available to the public. It might be good for our Regional History Museum to establish an archive of CDs or DVDs of such rare and precious information. I am sure you have had the experience of wanting to ask some older person in your life about some chapter of their life, or to answer some question about why they did this or that. Most of the things we wonder about are real personal things like, “Why did you divorce grandpa when you was 80 years old.” When they die you go around the rest of your life fussing at yourself for never asking. Maybe they wouldn’t want to talk about it but you don’t know until you ask. Maybe they would feel a sense of relief to talk about it. I have written both of my children asking them to take their time and make a list of the questions they want to ask me about my life. When I get them, I am going to tape my responses and then get Gene Norman at Digisound (digisound@bellsouth.net) to make CDs or DVDs of it for them. How I wish I had such treasures on the lives of my dear parents, in their own voices. The more personal the tapes, the better. Even if Judge Schoolfield made some tapes for WTCI or Chattanooga State I am sure some of his saltier stories are not included. I frankly admit I am a man who enjoys a salty tale and he was a master salty storyteller. One magnificent man I did tap into in his last years was John Popham. At my request, Papa John came by my office toward the end of my county service and talked for several hours. I also shared lunch with him several times and one conversation at Chattanooga Billiards was especially open, honest, thought-provoking and at times, hilarious. I only wish I had taped them. His voice is now still. He had one of the grandest voices and styles of oratory ever heard on this planet. He could speak on a subject of little interest to me and keep me spellbound. Two of James Dillet Freeman’s poems are on the moon, carried by astronauts who must have loved his poetry as much as I loved it. For fifteen years I corresponded with him and if my leg would kick backwards, I would kick my own hiney for not driving to Kansas City to talk with him. He invited me several times. Yes, I regret it. Let us reduce our future regrets and simply sit own and talk to every older person we think someday we may remember and say, “Oh, how I wish I had a tape of their voice, telling me about their life.”
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