Hey Dad

One hundred and two years ago on April 9, 1924, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby boy entered the world in a place named Waycross, Georgia. The second son of Mitchell and Reba Hopper who were logging that an airport could be built. Mitchel from Perry County, Alabama and Reba from Bibb County, Alabama traveled to Georgia with four small children and expecting a fifth. That little boy born on April 9 is my dad, Mitchel Clark Hopper.

There is a photograph of Mitchel and Reba (Granny) standing beside a wagon loaded with one huge log pulled by two long horned steers. Not long after dad’s birth one of the steers that pulled the log wagon gored grandaddy Hopper rippling his stomach. This was the 1920’s and his injury was severe. Their logging endeavor ended and they moved back to Perry County Alabama where grandad spent life as an invalid. Granny and five children became sharecroppers in rural Alabama.

One morning as Uncle James, sixteen years old, and dad, eleven years old, were digging post holes for a fence when they heard a loud explosion inside the house they rented. As Uncle James and dad entered the living room they saw blood, skin, and brain material dripping from the ceiling. I have pictured that scene ever since I first heard dad tell it. That was a horrific and terrifying moment for anyone, especially family.

The struggle of the Hopper family was hard. Granny Hopper sharecropping with nine folks trying to make a living. I written this before- dad said they were so poor that when they slaughtered hogs all they threw away was the squeal. Every part of the hog was used. I know I used to help Granny Hopper sling chitterlings (clean hog intestines).

Hard years passed quickly, Uncle James was drafted and fought in WWII witnessing the horror and gore of combat. When dad turned eighteen on April 9, 1942, the next week he went for basic training and eventually North Africa to serve under General George C. Patton.

As the Allies moved north, dad went to Italy. There he received two Purple Hearts. One was from a machine gun as bullets ripped his stomach under his heart to his groin making a large S which called dad superman. He lay in a foxhole bleeding as German soldiers using bayonets made sure that soldiers were dead. Dad used two dead soldiers in the foxhole to shield him from the bayonets. He felt the bayonet penetrate one soldier as the second penetrated to other one. When the German soldiers queried about dad being dead or not one said he was and they moved to another foxhole. Dad knew enough German to understand God spared him.

The second Purple Heart was for shrapnel from a grenade riddling his body. One piece of shrapnel lodged at the base of his skull near the spinal cord in operatable. You could feel the knot.

While in Italy, the German Army captured dad. Dad and several other men were loaded and carried to hill to be killed. Realizing that they were about to be executed, dad and a few other country boys decided to make break and run. Dad said everyone ran in different directions. He said the bullets buzzed by him like angry bumble bees. Escaping and an old Italian farmer hid him in a hay barn for three months. His was listed as missing in action.

Dad shared many war stories. They were humorous and very few were about the horror and gore. I would ask how many enemy he killed and he would say, “We were following orders and so were they. We just shot at one another.”

On dad’s 102^nd birthday I thought about things he taught me. I was the first born and was training ground and learning curve for dad. I realized from a young age that dad lived his life without a dad. He spoke of grandad often. That was one of my biggest reasons for wanting to spend time with dad.

Every time he went somewhere besides work, I wanted go. One time I was anxious that when he said I could go I slammed the front door of the house on the fingers of my right hand. When I yanked them from the door I pulled the fingernail from my middle finger. It bled and throbbed for hours, but I was with dad. I was worth the pain. As a little boy I wanted to cry. I wanted dad to be proud I was though, stupid but tough.

I wanted to be big and strong like dad. He had large hands that carried many scars. He was respected for his size and strength. Most men feared dad because of his background powerful demeanor. Kids loved the gentle giant, and women were attracted to him.

In nineteen eighty-two doctors diagnosed dad with brain tumors. One, the size of a lemon, was in the frontal of his brain. The other was a pea sized near the pituitary gland near his brain stem. Surgeons were able to remove ninety percent of the lemon sized tumor but could not operate on the pea sized one.

Prognosis was that dad would lose his memory, lose his eyesight, and lose his balance making him unable to walk. As people and churches prayed doctors performed saying that God aided them. After the surgery and during recovery, dad got cold and got out of bed moving it away from the air-conditioner. Nurses panicked. Not too bad for some with no memory, no balance, and no sight. Nurses thought him delirious. He told them he was cold.

Dad was bald before surgery. One day after chemo treatment, my daughter used his head for tic tac do. Dad did well for two years. During that time, he and I would go walking and sharing life. One time at a church cleanup, dad and I headed home. He said, “Son I used to wish I did not have to go to work. Now I wish I could.”

Not long before his passing one morning I went to eat breakfast with mom and dad. Mom said to dad, “Tell Bobby about your dream. He will understand.” Fearing being called stupid or made fun of dad was reluctant to share the dream with me. I said you can share it with me.

Dad said, Last night I dreamed I died and I was going toward a bright light in heaven. As I got closer, I saw Jesus with His arms open. As I got close, He was waving motioning me back tell me it was not time yet. And then I woke up.”

I told him that I believed him and that others had similar testimonies. He smiled and said thanks son.

Dad turned sixty on April 9, 1984, and died eighteen days later on April 27. I held that big old right hand as he took his last breath.

Thank You God for allowing me to spend thirty-one years with dad. I think of him daily. I think of him when I see my brother David who looks like him and my brother Glenn who acts like him. I think of him and how he struggled in life. From age eleven, serving in WWII, and thousands of other things that dad experienced remind me of dad, Mitchel Clark Hopper Jr. known best as JM (Junior Mitchel)

Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee. Exodus 20:12 KJV

 Here is picture of dad holding me on one of his logging horses. Dad was 6' 3" standing behind "Jabo". Picture taken @ 1954.

 

 

 

  

He Is Not Here

Remember those monstrosities called answering machines? You know the ones that use a cassette tape to record messages. I won one that turned out to be a hunk of junk. I think that is why I won it. I finally got rid of it when the telephone company added it as a service.

My favorite message went as follows: “Now that you have let the phone ring seven times you have awakened my dragon and if you do not leave a message, he will be very angry. I’m not here so leave a message.”

One message was, “Now that I have awakened your dragon, I know you are not home. That is a good way for people to rob you while you are way. Do not say you are not home.”

The whole answering machine evolution has given us cell phones with emails, text messaging, and leave a message. I was opponent of text messaging in the beginning, but I use us more than anything now. It is convenient and prevents one from interrupting. I think it helps with cell phone etiquette.

If you are as I am you made that important call and you reach that infernal answering machine: “To speak English press one. If you know the extension press two. If you want to speak with a representative press three. To repeat the menu, press four. To speak with an operator, press zero.

Years ago, I was representing employees at the cement plant that filed a grievance because they could not reach the plant when returning a callout phone call. This was back before the telephone companies changed to push button phones. It was difficult to press numbers on a dial-up telephone. The all-knowing human resource person gave me a smart aleck response and said he would give me the money to buy a push button phone. I replied, “You dummy the phone lines have not been updated. The lines are still pulsing dialing, and one cannot press one, two, three or four.” I told the smart aleck that “I did not fall off the turnip green truck yesterday.” The grievance was awarded to the employees.

One of the churches I had opportunity to serve had a sophisticated phone system. Churches members from that church complained to me about not being able to speak with the pastor. I admit that it was difficult to get a hearing with the pastor. There were ample people there to answer the phone, but you had to push those aggravating buttons. It remained a problem for years. People stopped trying to call or see the pastor and finally started calling me or visiting my office.

It can be troublesome trying to reach someone and not knowing what button to push or where to find a person. It can be good on occasion. When you could not call or see a person when you are angry. Things went much smoother when you had time to cool off. How about the time you made a decision? Lord changed your position and you were glad the person you were to tell was not there initially.

This past Sunday was Resurrection Sunday. Before the break of day, Mary made her way to the tomb of Jesus. She was expecting the worst. There was no way of communicating with the keepers of the dead. There was no press one to speak Arabic. No press two to speak with the gardener. No press three to speak with the stone movers.

There is a 1958 song The Angels Listened In and another in 1960's song Trouble in Paradise - Calling All Angels by the Crests. Had Mary known who was waiting at the tomb she could have called Angels that were waiting.

What she did find was an Angel waiting at the tomb. No buttons to push just a living being saying:

He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. Matthew 28:6 KJV

LIKE A ROCK

Excitement filled the air as scuttlebutt surfaced at Blue Circle Cement. Chevrolet was going to make a commercial about their Chevy pickups. Chevy was filming the “Built Like A Rock” Commercial the Roberta Plant in Calera, Alabama. The scene of a Chevy pickup racing up the quarry road is still seen in current commercials.

There was one gigantic problem. The filming was closed to the employees. General Motors management did not anticipate the rock hardheaded men of the plant. Good old boy ingenuity found a way. Though the employees were not close to the scenes, high silos conveyor belt towers, and buildings provided amble venues to watch the filming. The long hours of filming were reduced to just a few seconds of commercial time. Those employees that had sneak previews told of things that did not make the film.

The best scene was a lift dropped a one-ton (2000 lbs.) bag of lime into the bed of the new dual-wheel pickup. The first take the tailgate exploded from the pickup and traveled approximately thirty feet through the air leaving the side of the pickup bed warped open. It was so severe that they could not attach the tailgate back. After several tries, the final cut that aired was without the tailgate. I know engineers designed the pickup to haul a one-ton payload but dropped from above the force was more than the tailgate could handle. I can only imagine if they had dropped a one-ton limestone boulder into the pickup truck bed.

Rocks have been in existence for a long time. Some areas of our planet are mostly rock. Rocks have been and remain a main source of building material. I love to collect rocks. My grandpa Chapman removed rocks from the ground where Lisa and I live. He removed the trees, stumps, and rocks to cultivate the ground. He hauled all the rocks into the woods on the back side of the property. I have slowly moved back into the yard for flower beds, and other nice stonework. I suppose that somewhere in the future someone will move them out again.

The largest rock that I have ever seen and been on top is Stone Mountain in Georgia. That is one humongous granitic rock. One has to ride a sky lift to reach the top. Jesus said the wise man builds his house on the rock. I did not see a house on Sone Mountain but there was a building up there. It would take an abundance, deluge to wash it way.

As Jesus fasted, the devil tempted Jesus with a rock. Devil said if Jesus was hungry to turn the rock into bread. David as a shepherd boy slew Goliath with a single rock and had four more to slay Goliath’s four brothers. As the Hebrews crossed the wilderness in route to the Promise Land they ran out of water. Moses struck a rock and it produced water. Had Moses touched it as was the thing to do, God could have produced a lake, and Moses may have gotten to enter the Promise Land. Simon Peter’s faith was compared to a rock.

Rocks have been used to build altars, as foundation, designate line lines, inscribed as tablets for laws, used to cover graves, and block openings. Rocks have been used as weapons since the first person threw one at an animal or person. Stoning folks was common for millennials. When the lady caught in the very act of adultery was thrown in front of Jesus, Jesus instructed those without sin to cast the first stone.

God is the rock when we search the Scriptures. The song “Rock of Ages” is a great Theological song.

Since this is Passover Week in Christendom there is a beautiful passage in Scripture that our pastor read on Palm Sunday about rocks. During the Triumphant Entry of Jesus people were shouting and praising Jesus as the coming Messiah. When forces tried to quieten the people, Jesus said in Luke 19:40 KJV:

And he answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.

Hope Y’all have a wonderful Resurrection Sunday.