My cousin Linda, 73, died June 28 following complications from a heart-valve procedure.
I was not particularly close to Linda, and I did not attend the obsequies, but her death delivered a shock nevertheless.
I only saw Linda at funerals and family reunions, but my memories of her go all the way back to a birthday party when I was not much more than a toddler at a house that seemed to be deep in a forest, “a sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend shade above shade, a woody theatre of stateliest view.”*
In my memory, Linda is dressed in pink with a bow in her hair. She moves with celerity, weaving through the oaks and elms, but in truth, the event was so long ago that these details are probably my own inventions, the mind trying to fill in blanks left empty long ago.
I do know it was a Linda before she knew struggle and disappointment, though — a brighter version not yet drained by life’s challenges.
Linda was the daughter of my dad’s brother, Howard, and Howard’s wife, Inez. Linda had an older brother, Gerald, and a younger brother, Kenneth.
Gerald remains the rapscallion of all the cousins and has no filter at all. Kenneth always seemed more phlegmatic, less impulsive. But I haven’t seen him for quite a while.
Kenneth is married to a woman named Sherrie Stone.
My son’s mother was also named Sherie Stone — while we were married, at least.
Linda had a son named Keith, who married a woman named Leah Stansell.
When I became the editor of the Lake Oconee News a decade ago, my go-to person for crime stories in Greene County was Capt. Lee Stancill, who was the sheriff’s office public information officer — a complete professional in every respect. I hope he’s doing well in his career in the private sector. I don’t think I ever told him about that coincidence.
I found out over the weekend that Johnnie Satterfield Jr. had passed away recently. I ran into him at Publix not long ago, and we had a long conversation standing in the nebulous area between the deli and the produce section.
I always loved catching up with Johnnie. I first met him at a Greene County High School football game I was covering way back in 2014 at Tiger Stadium.
During our Publix conversation, we talked about our days on the sidelines and a favor he did me regarding Greene County football statistics. I won’t go into the details, but Johnnie made every story I wrote about the Tigers better because of his generosity and interest in the welfare of the players.
Neither of us knew our Publix conversation would be our last.
I will miss Mr. Johnnie.
A week after my first Greene County football story appeared in the Lake Oconee News, two columns appeared on Page B3 in the Sept. 12, 2014, issue — one written by veteran columnist Dick Hodgetts and a debut column by psychologist Dr. John Stathas.
Sadly, both men have since passed away.
Meanwhile, back at the family ranch, my sister Kim, who had been diagnosed with cancer back in July, underwent her last round of chemotherapy on Oct. 30, 2014.
Here’s a quote from a story we did about Kim for Breast Cancer Awareness Month while she was still in treatment:
“If I could give a message, it would be to trust in Jesus. Trust God. I can’t do it by myself. If I put it in the hands of God, He can.”
And He did.
Kim is still teaching fourth grade at MCES and now riding herd on three grandchildren: Hayes, Collins and Hudson.
So, there are happy endings.
As if to accentuate my recent morbid musings, this morning I saw that actor Sam Neill had died. The first thing I thought of was his final moment in the Red October film, when he is shot in the chest, looks up at Capt. Ramius (Sean Connery) and says regretfully, “I would like to have seen Montana.”
Indeed. I guess we all have to light out for the Little Bighorn at some point for our last stand … just like Custer.
Selah.
- Paradise Lost, Book 4