Once a month my mom and dad would drive my brother and me down to Bay City Texas to visit my grandparents. It was a great place to go and spend a weekend. My grandad would take us down to the train tracks and we would walk along the rails and pick up railroad spikes. Nana would get us donuts in the mornings, we would play along the creekbanks outside and generally have a great time. Every visit we would also go and see my great-grandparents in the nursing home in town. Their names were Tom and Alma Rowland, but to me, they were Grandmother and Papa (pronounced Paw-Paw).
Papa would always be sitting on a bench outside the home. He always wore crisp and clean khaki pants, a button-down collared shirt, and a Stetson cowboy hat. He also would greet me the same way every visit. I would walk up to hug him, and he would shake his cane at me and say, “What are you doing here boy!” Then he would smile and hug me while we all walked inside to see Grandmother. Papa would pass away in 2001 when I was 12 years old.
To me, he was just a kind old man who had to walk with a cane and shuffled slowly and methodically. But I learned there was much more to this man than met the eye.
The first thing I learned about Tom Rowland (Papa) was that he dropped out of school in 4th grade to help support his family. His father was a sharecropper and constable for the town, so Tom had to pitch in and help.
When the depression came Papa went from farming to hopping freight cars all across Texas to find work. The idea of this man with a cane hopping on board boxcars and running to catch trains just amazed my mind. He was also tough as nails, carrying a switchblade in his boot, a pistol in his pocket, and brass knuckles wherever he went. He was also known to be a hard drinker and fighter.
In 1934 he got a job with the Civilian Conservation Corps and helped to build the stone cabins at Bastrop State Park. After that, he went to work for the Texas and New Orleans Railroad (later to become the Southern Pacific) on a Bridge Gang.
During the war (World War II) he served as a Foreman for the Railroad while his brothers joined the army and fought in North Africa and Italy. After the war, in 1954, he retired from the railroad and started his own construction business with his brother Gerald, called “Rowland Bros. Construction.” Eventually, he was appointed City Inspector for Bay City Texas, and then became the President of the Bay City Gas Corporation. During the years after the war, he also quit drinking, joined the local church, and helped with Sunday School.
To me, he was just a kindly Papa who greeted me with a smile and a cane shake. But behind those eyes was a life and legacy that had been lived through countless trials, victories, tribulations, and redemptions. As my nana (Papa’s daughter) says to this day, “Not bad for a man with only a
4th-grade education!”
There is so much more to a person than what we can merely see at a single stage in their lives. Perhaps that is why judging someone in the moment usually doesn’t lead to an accurate picture of what is truly going on. How many times have we passed people on the street in blissful ignorance of the lives they have led and the memories they contain? How many stories have been lost to time by the passing of generations while the rest of the world just barrels on toward the future?
Psalm 92 states, “The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green.” The psalmist is reminding the reader that even those in advanced years or in times of obscurity have stories to pass along to us of this generation. This is nowhere truer than in the church. How many of us younger Christians would learn how to walk in faith by merely sitting and listening or engaging with those who have come before us? How much could we learn if we talked with each other and shared the experiences of our lives, both our victories and our struggles? That is one of the church’s purposes, my friends, to bridge gaps of age and generation experience by joining in social communion with each other!
I wished I had learned this lesson in life earlier so that I could have asked Papa more questions. But at this point in my life, I love to hear the stories of others.
It is one of the great privileges of a pastor to sit and listen to the advice, wisdom, and experiences of generations of Christians. We must never cease those listening ears because someday a generation’s wisdom will pass on and we will wish that we had slowed down and listened more carefully to their words!
—
Pastor Mike McVey
Minister – First United Methodist Church, Fairfield TX
ACS Chaplain – United States Coast Guard, Station Galveston TX
Cell: 919-935-2513
Email: pastormike@fumcfairfield.org
