NOTE: I was going through a folder today looking for a letter that James had written to his Grandchildren and found the memorial I had written to give at James funeral. I may have shortened it a little when I spoke that day, but this was my original copy. So, I decided to add it to my Blog SnoopSue's News and Views to keep for my family.
MY JAMES
If you call him Carroll, you are either family or a longtime friend. James and I met in this very same place almost 70 years ago. Not the same building but the original Highland Baptist Church where my dad was pastor. He talked of many memories of Sundays here at Highland with his family and good friends Ron Newman and Bill Monday. I am sure at that time he did not notice the preachers black haired daughter but just a few years later in 1956 after we had moved to North Acres Baptist Church, he did notice the preacher’s daughter singing in the choir wearing a yellow dress.
In December of 1956 we had our first group date with our Sunday School at a church Christmas Party. I was 13 and he was 16. The next fall James called to ask if I would go to the movies with him. I asked my mom, she said call your dad at work and ask him. I called my dad and he said I will leave the decision up to you to do what you think is right. Of course, I accepted and that was the best decision I ever made. For the next 6 years we had a date every Friday night and saw each other every time the doors of the church opened or if my dad was holding a revival James was right there. When I was 19 and he was 22 we were married there at North Acres the same church where both of us had been saved.
James was not able to get a good job because he had not finished school. Due to a couple of humiliating incidents that happened in the 5th grade, one when he was trying to harmonize as he had heard his mom and dad and aunts and uncles sing and not singing like everyone else the teacher said he was singing off key. The other was when he "borrowed" a pair of binoculars off the teacher’s desk that a kid had left when he moved to another school. A big deal was made of it and his mother was called to the school and she cried, and it crushed him. He decided he was through with school and refused to study any more. He read constantly but only what he wanted to, and he said as long as he didn't cause any trouble the teachers just ignored him and passed him on to the next grade.
When he was in the 8th grade James had rheumatic fever and become homebound. He was sent a teacher and learned a lot during the 5 months he was bedfast. He started to Central High School but became a 9th grade dropout. He would leave school and go fishing and hunting. Most nights would be spent with his best buddy Sherrill Greer cruising around and seeing what mischief they could get into. He said a praying mother was the only thing that protected him during those years. So, when we married, he was basically a high school dropout working at the Standard Knitting Mill running a knitting machine, making minimum wage, and hating every minute of it.
We had been married about 4 years when one of his bosses at the Standard encouraged him to get his GED and try to further his education. By that time, we already had Pamela and Byron. So, he went and took the GED test and passed it. He decided to try to take some classes at the University of Tennessee. he took the College Admittance Test and passed it. So basically, James started college with a grade school education. Four years later in 1970 he received his bachelor’s degree in Education from the University of Tennessee with honors. That Fall he began his 30-year teaching career teaching History at Mascot Elementary then moving to East Knox Elementary when Mascot closed and finishing at Carter Middle School. James's summers ere his favorite time of the year and he spent time fishing and gardening. He also loved to hunt.
More than his love for teaching History was his love for teaching the Bible. James served as a faithful deacon and Sunday School teacher at House Mountain Baptist Church, Union Baptist, and Highland Baptist Church. To him it did not matter if he had one person in his class or 40, he prepared and taught the same writing most of his lessons himself.
James was also a praying man. He prayed for his children and grandchildren even before they were born that they would make good decisions in life and their marriages and live for the Lord. I could see the fruits of this during his sickness when more than saying "I love you dad" they would say "I'm praying for you dad." The lowest and most heartbroken I ever saw him was during the illness and loss of our daughter Pamela. He grieved many nights and days and wanted her picture right by his chair where he sat. Many times, he said to me "I can still see Pam coming around the corner from the kitchen to the living room and saying "where's mom"?"
James was a man of few words. I decided to test this one day when we were driving back from visiting our daughter Jennifer when she was going to college in Chattanooga. I thought I will see just how long James will go without talking if I don't start the conversation. Two hours later we pulled into our driveway without a word spoken all the way. Although James was a man of few words, he was a man of much wisdom. This wisdom he wanted his children to have, to live a life of integrity and a life that they would look back on with no regrets.
We had 53 years of good marriage and I cherish each one of them. It was heart breaking to see the effects the cancer had on his body, a body that had been my rock and fortress since I was a girl of 13. He did not fear death and he said to me during this time that the reason he would like to be healed would be to encourage and strengthen the faith of those who prayed for him so faithfully. This is just a little of the man I knew and the memories I will cherish until we again are reunited.
