growing up Church of Christ

Remembering Uncle Claude

2012-02-22T20:52:00.000-05:00

OnSaturday, I attended a funeral service for my Uncle Claude in Searcy,Ark. He was a minister of the gospel fora long, long time. He loved the church,his family, and music.

Mycousin Tim shared a story about Uncle Claude. It went something like this:

During Claude and Madge’s early years of marriage, my aunt would say, “Claude, I love you. Now tell me those three words I want to hear.”

“Fix my supper!” my uncle would jokingly reply.

But later on, in the final years of their marriage, my aunt would say, “I love you,” and my uncle wouldn’t give her three words … he’d give her four.

“I love you more,” he’d reply.

Finishingthe race.

Keepingthe faith.

And,mostly importantly, loving to the very end.

Things that make me smile

2012-02-13T20:19:00.000-05:00

Inthe past couple of weeks, I’ve come across a couple of things that made mesmile.

One ... this video from a church in Brazil where my brother-in-law Kevin and mysister-in-law Benay serve as missionaries.

Kevinand I belonged to the same “social club”—I love that term—at Harding U. Here we were, the men and women (“queens”) ofSub T 16, back in the day at the old Harding swimming pool.

Also,last week I worked the “night shift” at my job, which freed up my mornings todo other stuff. I’d usually drop offCheryl at her school (where she teaches 3^rd grade), and then I’dwalk for awhile on the Washington and Old Dominion trail. One morning I noticed a white steeple off inthe distance and veered south for a closer look.

Ido like a church with a sense of humor, even if it’s a little corny.

Seem’slike there’s a good spirit here. Welcoming.

Astack of brochures out front said:

lovingGod
lovingOthers
lovingLife

Soundspretty good to me. Maybe we’ll check outa service one of these days?

I Always Hated Pep Rallies

2012-02-06T09:27:00.000-05:00

Ialways hated pep rallies. Hated them.

In7^th grade, pep rallies were the worst.

Cheerleadersspinning. Cheerleaders screaming, “LET’S HEAR THE SEVENTH GRADE BATTLE CRY!”

7^thgrade battle cry? Are you kidding? You want us to yell a silly chant in front ofGod, the seniors, and everybody else?

Well, okay.

“V-I-C-T-O-R-Y … that’s our 7^th gradebattle cry.”

This is followedby moans and laughter from the rest of the audience and disappointed looks fromthe cheerleaders. They quickly forgetabout us and shout: “OKAY EIGHTH GRADE, LET’S SHOW ‘EM HOW TO DO IT!!”

Dozens ofstudents to our left immediately jump out of their seats and scream, “V-I-C-T-O-R-Y … THAT’S OUR 8^TH GRADEBATTLE CRY!!!” They sit down again with arched eyebrows andsmug expressions.

The cheer continuesits journey around the auditorium, and we discover that the only group lamerthan the 7^th grade is the faculty. They are always scattered about and somewhat concerned with protectingtheir vocal cords.

“… andthat’s our faculty battle cry.” What? What did they say?

Evenas I eventually figured out all of the cheers, handclaps, foot-stomps, andother appropriate moves, I still hated the pep rallies. You see, my father handed me a last name thatstarted with “A”, which meant for about 180 days in 7^th grade andabout 180 more days in 8^th grade, I sat in an assigned seat on thefront row of the auditorium. This meantthat, during every rally, the cheerleaders invaded my personal space withpompoms and spirit sticks. How was Isupposed to look cool when I was constantly avoiding arm thrusts and jump kicks?

ButI survived, somehow, against all odds. AndI made it on to 9^th grade where the cheerleaders stood fartheraway. And I went on to college, wherethere were cheerleaders, but no pep rallies. And then one day I strode off into a world filled with ties andbriefcases and PowerPoint presentations.

Andsometimes, now, especially during an extremely long meeting, I wouldn’t mind forsomeone to jump up and lead us all in a battle cry.

HA chapel, 7th grade.

In My Culture ... by Cheryl Allen

2012-01-30T20:31:00.000-05:00

Inmy culture

Weget skinned knees

andsunburn

andwe have plenty of time to play outside

aslong as we’re home by supper

Wemostly eat meat, potatoes and

onegreen vegetable

andwe drink sweet tea with lemon

Wesay “Yes maam” and “No maam”

butnot “ain’t”

orbad words like “stupid”

Weknow our neighbors

andwe borrow sugar from them sometimes

Wehave little gardens in back of our house

andwe hang laundry out to dry in summer

Ourdogs run wild and get so dirty

thatwe can only pet them with our feet

Weall help clean the house on Saturday mornings

andstay for potluck meals after Sunday church

We trynot to get sick during the week

becausesomeone will have to stay home from work

totake care of us

Wego to high school football games on Friday nights

andlearn to drive stick shift when we’re teenagers

Westill get spankings when we’re bad

andno one really tucks us in

becauseeveryone is real tired by that time

Undercotton sheets and homemade quilts

wewhisper silent prayers

aswe drift off to sleep

Mama, baby Cheryl, and Benay.

After the Potluck

2012-01-23T20:23:00.001-05:00

Thekids gather in the auditorium after the potluck meal. It’s dark, but there’s still enough light tosee.

Theydecide to play church.

Whowill do the announcements? Who will leadthe singing? Who will preach?

Thekids divide into two groups, boys in one and girls in the other. The girls move over to sit on the front pew.

Theboys argue for awhile over who will do the announcements. This appears to be the most coveted position.

Andthe church service begins.

Theboys sit on the stage and the girls remain quietly in their pew.

Theoldest boy makes the announcements, and there are scattered giggles from theaudience. He’s a funny guy.

Anotherboy leads a couple of songs, and the girls all sing loudly. Beautifully. They certainly know how to carry a tune.

Twoboys serve communion, and everyone pretends to break off pieces of thebread and eat them. Even the kids who haven’tbeen baptized are allowed to participate.

Thesermon is a short one, and then the group heads back into the fellowship hallto meet up with families.

Theboys and the girls mix together on their way out of the auditorium. Equals again.

Best of Twitter by @growingupcofc

2012-01-16T21:20:00.000-05:00

Ijoined Twitter in September and have since come to realize that I tweet like amiddle-aged government employee. Icannot change this about myself. I yamwhat I yam.

Onething has surprised me about Twitter, though. I like it—or maybe a better way of putting it—I’m strangely fascinatedby it. People say the darndest things,and I think it’s mostly because they don’t believe anyone’s payingattention. Like these tiny messages arebeing projected out into cyberspace and then slowly evaporating into outerspace. There’s a freedom in Twitter. A freedom to say exactly what’s on one’smind, without thinking much about it. Where else can you do that? Okay,prayer or with a super-duper-close friend, but where else?

Sohere are a few of my favorite people. Check them out, if you like. Ornot. I’m guessing they won’t mind toomuch one way or another.

AlYankovic … @alyankovic… You know... the Eat It guy.

WeirdAl has won three Grammy Awards. Three. I’m not kidding. My personal favorite Weird Al song is White & Nerdy (2006). LOL is way overused … but Al is trulyLOL-funny. Here are a couple of samples:

“I personallyknow a lot of nerds, and I’ve NEVER seen one with tape on the bridge of theirglasses. #NoteToHollywood”

“72 Days is nowan official unit of time known as a Kardash.”

GaryHaugen … @garyhaugen… President & CEO of International Justice Mission.

Ifyou haven’t checked out this charity … you should check it out. Now! www.ijm.org

Garyspoke at our church a few years ago. Theword “inspiring” is an understatement. Twotweets from GH:

“Iwrote 2,084 on a whiteboard at HQ today- the # of individuals (w/ names) IJMhas rescued from violent abuse so far this year.”

“Amount Americansspend on Halloween costumes for their PETS ($300 million) equals nationalbudget of Burundi. Just sayin.”

RickAtchley … @RickAtchley… Wanting to be better husband, father, preacher, and golfer.

Imay be the only person I know who’s never heard Rick Atchley speak. I can tell you, he’s got so many good tweets;it’s difficult to choose the best. Theyare mostly funny …

“On Halloween …You would think these little kids coming to my door would be more grateful forthe classic sermon tapes I am handing out.”

“Four stages of aman: 1) you believe in Santa, 2) you don't believe in Santa, 3) you are Santa,4) you look like Santa.”

Andyet, sometimes poignant …

“God will neverhaunt you with the memory of a sin He has forgiven.”

“I need toremember that the Bible says to mourn with those who mourn. It doesn't say tofix them.”

GeorgeStuart Benson … @drgeorgebenson… President, Harding College (1936-1965).

A spoof account (obviously). Funny and sometimes a little irreverent. Buckle your seatbelt:

“RT @ouachita:International Awareness Chapel //I'll have 500 Harding College students inZambia before your closing prayer. #chapeltweet”

“I'm normally an optimistbut whenever I lose a follower on Twitter, I assume they've either died orbecome a communist.”

RachelHeld Evans … @rachelheldevans… living, learning, writing, and evolving in Monkey Town.

Ihaven’t read her book (yet), but I like her ‘tude:

“DearHaters, Thanks for motivating me to work harder, for teaching me to seek truepeace, and for weaning me off my addiction to approval.”

Desmond Tutu Peace Center … @ThePeaceCentre … The Desmond TutuPeace Centre -Creating a home for sustainable peace.

Howcan you not like Desmond Tutu (a Nobel Peace Prize awardee)? One of the world's good guys:

“Howcan we create a culture of peace? #tutu: ‘Let women take over!’”

Wellsaid Brother Tutu.

***

Nowhow about u? What do u say?

Baptism Blurbs

2012-01-11T21:12:00.001-05:00

Ata church staff meeting in Boston, a minister begins his speech by saying:

"Baptism.
AllI want to talk about today is baptism. That’s the most important thing.
Baptism. Baptism. Baptism."

***

Oneday around lunchtime, an older Christian and I chat in the food court of anAlabama mall. I mention something aboutbaptism. He replies, “Maybe we should placeless emphasis on baptism and more emphasis on loving God with all our hearts.”

***


Baptism of my wife Cheryl’s friend.

www.fairfaxvideos.com

***

Mary writes:

Sometimes preachers would encourage people to bebaptized, saying, “The clothes are prepared, the water is warm, come while westand together and sing.”

The Gospel Service

2012-01-02T17:33:00.000-05:00

In1997 I attended a “gospel” chapel service at Maxwell Air Force Base inAlabama. It was one of the few times, upto that point, that I had attended a non-Church-of-Christ service. I tagged along with my friend Raymond, an AirForce captain.

Wegot to the chapel right on time and noticed a good number of people alreadyscattered throughout the small auditorium. Several congregants nodded and smiled as we passed down the aisle. Ray led us up to the second row.

Afew minutes later, the band struck up. They were rockin’. I’d never seensuch a thing in church. Heads bobbed allaround us. Hands raised in the air witharms waving back and forth. Pairs ofeyes closed for awhile and then opened back up. Bodies swayed.

Thiswas an unruly group.

Andsinging. Oh yes, the people were singingloudly, a song I’d never heard of before. And then more singing before the chaplain finally made his way to thefront. He spread his arms wide and said,“Everyone, greet your brothers and sisters.”

Andthe Christians turned sideways and backwards and started hugging. A spate of hugging.

Iwas safely out of my comfort zone.

Andafter the hugging had died down, the chaplain delivered his message full ofemotion and grace, and the gathered believers supported him with plenty ofUh-huhs and Amens.

Andbefore long it was all over. A prayerand a scattering back to homes and barracks, a time of getting ready foranother week with the Lord.

AndI went back to my quarters that day a little bit changed, reflecting on a worshiptime with movement.

Preaching the Word

2011-12-28T20:29:00.000-05:00

As kids, weused to sit up front during gospel meetings. Up-front was where the action was, especially during the invitationsong. It was exciting to see the pewsfill up as people came forward for baptism or prayer.

Dad often recalls a meeting at the College Church,sometime in the 1970s, when over 100 people were baptized. The responders included several members ofthe Harding College basketball team. Ihave this memory—maybe it’s real or maybe it’s imagined—of men as tall astrees, walking down the aisles.

***

In the pastcouple of years, people have told me about “preachers” who've had a positive impact on their lives. The list includes:

· Francis Chan

· Gabe Lyons

· Jim Bill McInteer

· Jim Woodroof

· Joe Beam

· John Ortberg

· Kristy Thomas (see below)

· Landon Saunders

· Mike Cope

· Rod Stafford

Who wouldmake your list?

***

Cheryl writes:

During myhigh school years, Kristy Thomas led the women’s prison ministry at our church.We went to the jail week after week, and I saw the Holy Spirit at work in thelife of Kristy and in the lives of the women she was teaching.

Kristy died 10 years ago on my birthday. I’m sureJesus was glad to finally meet this woman who’d told so many other people aboutHim.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T15:39:00.000-05:00

National Christmas Tree, Washington, DC.

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.”

Home Alone

2011-12-19T19:38:00.000-05:00

Up early on a Sunday morning, I decide to attend the early service at the College Church. By myself. I like going by myself sometimes.

Service starts at 8:15 sharp, so I gotta leave the house by 8:05. Mom drops me off at the side entrance to the church building.

I sit through the service with a couple of other kids my age. The auditorium is warm and stuffy, and I feel drowsy in the middle of a crowded row.

After the service, I meet more friends for Bible class. We’re out by 10:30. Set free!

I walk and jog home, cutting across the Harding College campus.

I enter my house through the carport. I don’t need a key; we never lock the door.

I whip up some lunch, a grilled cheese sandwich and some potato chips. I scarf them down and turn on the TV. The house is quiet, and I’m all alone. I like the quiet. I like the alone.

I slip further down into the recliner. Ah, this is the life …

Thump.

I freeze.

What was that?

The noise came from the back of the house, down a long dark hallway.

My ears perk up. I hear the faint rattle of a bedroom doorknob. Instantly, I jump up and run outside in my sock-feet.

I play in the yard—on the hard cold ground—until my mom returns from the late service. She smiles at me as she gets out of the car. We walk into the house together.

It appears to be empty.

St. Louis Cardinals football fan and sometimes scaredy-cat.

Jerome Williams, Our Hero

2011-12-07T20:15:00.000-05:00

By the mid-1990s, my wife Cheryl and I had a baby son, Cal, who absolutely positively hated his car seat. HATED it. Just about any trip, be it five minutes or five hours, Cal would be screaming his lungs out from the backseat. Cheryl and I didn’t know what to do or where to turn. It was a miserable existence. Until one day we found…

Jerome Williams, a cappella singer.

His soulful voice, pouring out of our Volkswagen cassette player, took the cry right out of Cal.

…You Are The Song That I Sing…

…I Want To Be Where You Are…

…God Is So Good…

When other families told us about their screaming babies, we’d always say, “You gotta try Jerome.”

We lost the cassette and now have the CD. (You can borrow it sometime, if you need it.)

Age Rules – Part II

2011-12-03T19:55:00.000-05:00

In our home, and somewhat in our community, there were a couple of unwritten (but sometimes spoken) “age rules” for youngsters.

Rule #2: A person who grew up in the church should be 16 years old before going out on a date. (My wife grew up with a variation of this rule which allowed for double-dating at 15 and for single-dating at 16.)

One night, early into my sophomore year of high school, I stood on the sidelines before the start of a Harding Academy football game. My arm hung in a sling from a separated shoulder. I smiled and struck up a conversation with the nearest cheerleader, “Mary.”

It was a crisp and clear autumn evening, and I could see my house off in the distance. Talking to Mary, time stood still and time flew by … and I thought, “I may have found myself a Homecoming date.”

We chatted again a few days later, and I asked her out. She said, “Yes!” I floated through the rest of that day, until I realized I had broken The Dating Rule. Four months shy of my 16^th birthday, I passed the bad news along to my mom who, in turn, told my dad. He, in turn, told my mom to let me know it was okay, but that this would be my absolutely positively last date until I had reached the age of 16. I nodded and said mostly nothing, because I knew in my heart I liked Mary and that I’d ask her out again.

And I did … two or three more times that fall.

Please don’t tell my dad.

On a date with (future wife) Cheryl. We were both over 16.

Age Rules – Part I

2011-11-28T13:22:00.000-05:00

In our home, and somewhat in our community, there were a couple of unwritten (but sometimes spoken) “age rules” for youngsters.

Rule #1: A person who grew up in the church should be baptized between the ages of 10 and 12.

The concerns, as I recall, went something like this: If kids went forward too early, they might not be ready for the commitment. If kids put off the decision until later, they might slip through junior high and high school without ever giving their lives to Christ.

My sister Cindy went right on time – age 10. I think she might have gone sooner, if it had been more acceptable. My brother Jimmy waited longer to take the plunge – around 12. (In fact, Dad got a little bit worried about Jimmy and had him read a portion of a commentary that dealt with “immersion.”) I remember keeping tabs on all of this, aware of the times of their baptisms. I knew it was an important decision, more important than choosing my spouse or anything else.

And so my turn came on August 31, 1976, a Tuesday night. I went forward during the fall gospel meeting at the College Church. I don’t know who was preaching, but I do know that my dad made his way down to the front, took my good confession, and baptized me in front of about 1,000 witnesses.

I was 10 ½, and it was a very good night. Maybe my best night this side of heaven?

To be continued … Rule #2 on dating.

Bible Class Field Trip

2011-11-16T19:21:00.000-05:00

Mom taught our 3rd or 4th grade Wednesday night Bible class. She prepared for the class like crazy, planning craft activities, flannel board stories, memory verse posters, and film strip lessons. You name it, she did it. She even wrote weekly letters and mailed them to us. (Most of our parents were connected to Harding College, so the correspondence traveled through Campus Mail for free.) One of Mom’s letters was written backwards, like a passage from Leonardo da Vinci’s notebook, so we had to hold it up to a mirror to read it. That was kind of cool.

Later in the year, on a summer Wednesday night, Mom piled all of us into a couple of cars and took us over to her co-teacher’s house. At the door, the robed co-teacher told us she was Lydia, seller of purple. Inside the home, the women served us a Bible meal—okay the lentils weren’t so hot—and taught us the story of Lydia from a first-person perspective. It was an awesome night.

Can you imagine breaking out of Bible class for a field trip? The freedom of that?

Fulltime mom, part-time Bible class teacher.

_____

Of course, from a completely objective point of view, Mom was my favorite Bible class teacher. With that said, here are some folks who would get an honorable mention nod:

* Coach Larry Richmond (5^th or 6^th grade boys-only) … kept class fun with Bible bowls and quizzes.

* Mr. Bob Alexander (9^th grade) … captured our attention with lessons about “preparing for adolescence.”

* Mr. Ben Berry and Dr. Bill White (11^th grade) … with engaging personalities, they showed us that the Bible was relevant.

Who would you nominate?

Go Ye Means Go Me

2011-11-12T16:59:00.000-05:00

Alan Buchanan is an old college buddy. He’s funny and honest … two things I like in a person.

I met Al my freshman year at Harding U, and we did five years together there. For one of those semesters, Al and I lived with two other guys in what was probably the smelliest apartment in Searcy. We prepared a good number of our meals in Al’s deep-fry cooker. (I’m still waiting for my cholesterol levels to return to normal.)

I met Al’s dad, “Buck,” on a weekend trip to El Dorado, Ark. He impressed me as being a good man.

Mr. Buchanan, a faithful member of the College Avenue Church of Christ, went on to be with the Lord about a week ago. Rick Butler, a close friend of the Buchanan family, wrote this tribute to Buck:

_____

I spent hundreds of hours in Buck Buchanan's living room on the outskirts of Norphlet, Arkansas. First, it was as the messy neighbor kid who showed up for dinner a couple times a week, then later as a brother in Christ who had found a role model.

I can never remember sitting in that living room, though, when my eyes didn't find their way to a book on the built-in shelves, just to the left of the television. It was called Go Ye Means Go Me. It's a book on the Great Commission by Ivan Stewart. When I was told of Buck's passing earlier today, my mind went directly back to all those hours I spent in that living room.

And back to that book. (I'd bet anything it's still there.)

Because the title of that book (I never bothered to actually take it down and read it) summed up Buck's attitude about life and about the people he encountered each day.

I know this because I spent a lot of time watching him. Sometimes he probably realized this and intentionally put himself in situations to teach. Most of the time, though, he didn't have a clue all the lessons I was learning just by paying attention.

You see, a trip to town with Buck was no ordinary trip to town. I can remember his son Alan complaining that he couldn't stand going somewhere with his dad because of how long it took. He was right. Strangers to Buck were simply people he hadn't gotten to yet.

No one was safe when Buck was out. I saw him start conversations at traffic lights. Conversations he intended to finish.

No one was beneath Buck. A person's wealth or lack of wealth, stature or lack of stature meant nothing to him. They all needed to know there was a God who loved them and I believe he intended to tell them all.

He ran out of time before he ran out of people.

Go Ye Means Go Me.

I can't remember seeing Buck really relax. He'd slip in an occasional Sunday afternoon nap during a football game but for the most part, if he was awake, there was something that needed to be done. The saying, "Idle hands are the devil's workshop" isn't actually in the Bible but I think Buck would have put it in given the chance.

A boyhood friend of Alan's, visiting Buck just days ago, later told someone, "I talked real low and tried not to wake him up, cause I knew if he woke up he'd find some work for us to do."

If he had a pet peeve, it was likely laziness. When a daughter came home from college over Christmas break, there was a temporary job there waiting for her. When a teenage son seemed he might have a little too much free time on his hands one summer, a truckload of bricks arrived in the yard.

"Scrape the mortar off these," were Buck's opening instructions.

When that was finally finished (weeks later?), it was "these bricks should be over there. There's a wheelbarrow." And he pointed about 50 yards away to the other end of the yard.

One of Alan's daily jobs that we oversaw as youngsters was feeding the hunting dogs. Buck had built beautiful new pens for them and, apparently, didn’t want his dogs walking around in poop all day. So, each day about 5 p.m., Al and I would find ourselves standing in front of those dog pens, pushing poop around the concrete floors with a water hose.

Buck’s kids rarely found themselves in trouble.

They didn’t have time!

Go Ye Means Go Me.

Buck later found time to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity, which was likely as perfect a fit as it sounds. Helping people, meeting new people, working with others in service.

Buck taught me - at a fairly young age - about serving others. I remember a couple times when he dropped Al and me off at houses, armed with a mower or two. While we took care of cutting grass that the homeowners couldn't handle themselves, he would find another need that he could take care of while we finished there.

He taught me about being generous.

I wouldn't want to begin to count the money Buck and his family spent on me growing up. Lots of little things, like Sunday after-church pizza meals, the almost sacred roast, rice and gravy meals at home, the gas used to come pick me up for church before I was old enough to drive.

I lost my mother to cancer more than 15 years ago while I was living a long way away. There were several costly flights, etc. that had us pretty strapped.

While driving my wife and me to the airport on one of those trips, he and Francille tried to offer us money to help defray some of that cost. We politely turned down the sweet offer and thought that was the end of it.

Until we unpacked our bags after arriving home. And suddenly remembering which bag Buck had carried through the airport.

I'm convinced God puts people in our lives and begs us to watch and learn. And I'm convinced that's why He had me cross paths with Buck and his family when He did. Everything that I try to do with and for my family, the goals I have for my family, are modeled after what I saw from Buck.

He and Francille built the type of family a person dreams of having. The only thing better than Francille's roast, rice and gravy on Sunday afternoon was the laughter at that table. A family that absolutely loves being together. While the heartache will remain, the members of this family can count themselves among the blessed because of what was done before they came along.

Instilling a love of God above all else.

Working hard.

Never missing an opportunity to meet someone new.

I wish now that I had taken the time to tell Buck everything I'm telling you now. I thank God, though, that I had the opportunity to know him.

Loooooooong Prayers

2011-11-07T19:32:00.000-05:00

When our family got back to the car after church, my brother said, “Brother C’s prayer lasted 8 minutes. I timed it on my watch.”

8 minutes! Now, we had men at the College Church who could go for maybe 5 minutes, but no one was in Brother C’s league. 8 minutes! That’s a lifetime to kid.

From the time he said, “Our holy Father who art in heaven…

if I wanted to,

I could walk across the street,

buy and eat a box of Cracker Jacks,

and make it back into the auditorium,

before Brother C said,

… We pray all of these things in Christ our loving savior’s name, amen.”

His prayers were full of Thees and Thous, and sometimes I had a hard time understanding them. But they did sound pretty good. I’ll give that to Brother C; they had sort of a psalm-like quality about them.

They were beautiful prayers.

And they were loooooooong.

My First Brush with Cool

2011-11-02T20:31:00.000-04:00

There was this tall, skinny guy on my Little League baseball team named Mark. He was very cool, and he always pitched or played shortstop.

Mark could throw the ball about 100 miles per hour. Maybe faster.

He was so cool that he didn’t have to call anyone by name. He’d just say, “Hey!” and everyone’s head would turn to him.

That year, my first year of Little League, our team made it to the Searcy “World Series” game. Mark, of course, took the mound, where he proceeded to bean the first batter in the head. The other team didn’t get many hits after that, and we won the game handily.

Mark was definitely a cool customer, and every once in a while he’d look over at me and say, “Hey, Mike!” and I would bask in the glory of his attention.