My dad was a good man. He really was. He worked at the steel mills in Birmingham for forty-two years, took good care of his family, and loved me a lot. I loved him and I miss him.
But I want to tell you briefly about three very special men who greatly affected my young life. I never knew the name of the first one. The second one I only knew by his first name. The third one I only knew by his last name. But all three of them touched my life in unusual ways at unusual times, each one five years apart. I am so thankful that they came into me life when they did. Yet, so strangely, my father did not want to know them, see them, or hear about them. He refused to listen to the stories that I am about to tell you.
The first one, whose name I never knew, came into my life and back out in less than a minute. I was a seven year old boy, somewhere in a lake or a huge deep swimming pool. It was the middle of a hot summer. I got in water over my head, and I couldn’t swim. I remember gasping for breath, bouncing my feet on the bottom of the pool or lake, and reaching up, with my hand no longer able to reach the surface. I felt as if everyone was a mile away, and nobody was aware that I was about to drown. Absolute panic began to seize me, and I recall thinking that “right here, right now, I am seven years old and I am going to die!” Just at that moment, at my very last gasp for air, this man came through the water with a “whoosh”, and immediately took me in his incredibly strong arms, carried me safely to shore, and quickly disappeared. I remember that I never had the chance to even thank him before he was gone. God bless that young man who literally saved my life! I never knew his name at all. But I remember that when I got home and told my father, he just didn’t want to hear about it.
The second man was just called “Ernie”. I was twelve years old, and had a job in Constantine’s restaurant in Birmingham. I remember that I wanted to work there because they had great lemon ice-box pie! Other boys had the jobs of waiting on customers in their cars, while I was the “inside man”, preparing the orders for milk shakes and cheeseburgers so the curb-hops could deliver them to the parking lot. Ernie was the cook. What was so special about Ernie the cook? Just that he was the first adult to ever talk to me and treat me like I was an adult! He spoke WITH me, not “at” me, and actually listened to me! With him I felt valued and appreciated. Ernie worked there for many years, with a quiet confidence and maturity that earned him respect from everyone.
He had a great outlook on life. You didn’t to work FOR him, and he didn’t work FOR you. He worked WITH you. After I left that job, I even came back a few times, just to see Ernie. But strangely, when I told my father that Ernie was my friend, he strongly disapproved.
The third man who had such a great effect on my life was “Mister Meredith”. I will never forget the day we met. I was seventeen, had just finished high school and joined the U.S Coast Guard. I was flown to California, and Mister Meredith met us at the entrance to the Coast Guard base. He was six foot three, 230 pounds of muscle and steel. He asked me my name, and I told him, “Lee.” He bellowed, “You mean Lee, SIR, don’t you?” My father had instructed me NOT to call him “sir”, so I said no, I don’t mean “sir”, just “Lee.”
Mister Meredith picked me up and shook me until my teeth rattled and my heels kicked my butt. He asked me if I wanted to live, and I whimpered, “yes, sir!” From that time on through three months of “boot camp”, Mister Meredith taught me strength of character, endurance, and discipline. He was my company commander, and he was the best. I learned so much from him, and he must have forgiven me for that first time we met, because he let me live. And I know that if I saw him today, I would still call him “sir”! The respect I have for him will never go away. Unfortunately, my father felt differently.
Perhaps you are wondering why my dad, a really good man in so many ways, would not even want to hear about these men. And why would he instruct me not to honor them, befriend them, or show them respect? Would you like to guess?
The answer, absurd as it is, is simply this: their skin was black. That was it. For no other reason than their color, Dad rejected these men who had meant so much to me .
Over the years I have learned to appreciate the good that was in my father, while totally repudiating his ridiculous racial prejudice. He went to heaven in 1984, and even before his death many of those attitudes changed.
But can I tell you one more secret? I have dreamed about this, and I have asked God to please let me do one special thing when I get there and see my dad. I want to introduce these three men to him. “Look, Dad, this is the man who saved my life when I was drowning! And this is my friend Ernie!” And my father will give them a big hug and say “Thank You!”
Then I will introduce Mister Meredith, and my dad will look up and say, “Pleased to meet you, sir!”
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