Doris and Jack

   We left Sweetwater Texas when I was ten years old and it was four years before we settled on a new church and I first met Bro. Jack Slater and his wife Doris. He was a newly graduated pastor from Baptist Bible College in Springfield, Missouri, but he was coming home to Texas when he accepted the position at Fort Worth Baptist on Bonnie Brae Street. In their early thirties, they were both eager to follow the Lord and raise their two boys back in Texas. He had been in the Navy during World War II, serving on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific theatre. After the war he tried many occupations, but eventually succeeded at driving GM auto delivery trucks and a sales position at a major department store. After several years he surrendered to preach and paid his own way through Bible Baptist College while providing for his family. When he first accepted the position in Fort Worth, the church was unable to pay him an adequate salary, so he continued to drive a commercial truck to feed and clothe his family. They were both from the small town of Haskell, Texas and they were well acquainted with hard work and getting by on a meager existence.

   Haskell county lies in the barren west Texas plains filled with mesquite flats and low plateaus, where farmers raise cattle and grow wheat and cotton. The summers are brutally hot and dusty and the winters are equally harsh with cold winds blowing down from the northern plains. Spring brings violent thunderstorms and an occasional tornado, like the one that hit in 1953, and Fall only lasts about 2 weeks in between Summer and Winter. Doris was raised around Haskell and Brother Jack grew up eleven miles north of Haskell in the community of Rochester. From the fourth grade on, he was raised by his grandparents until he joined the Navy. His mother had given him up and an uncle in Wichita Falls had cared for him through the third grade, until he moved to work on canal construction projects in Panama. He once told me that the first time he saw Doris was when he was twelve years old. She was a coquettish ten-year-old swinging on an old tire in her Daddy’s yard as he rode past on a bicycle. When he looked over at her, she stuck out her tongue at him and he didn’t know if that meant that she really liked him or if she didn’t like him at all. Doris seldom left you wondering how she felt about anything, you just had to know what her actions meant.

   During his time on the farm in Rochester he developed a love for hunting. His first gun was a Benjamin pump BB gun and he soon discovered that he was a very good shot. His first real gun was his granddad’s shotgun but he yearned for a rifle that he could use when you can’t use a shotgun. . His granddad gave him a young pig which he fed and cared for until it was old enough to market, and then he sold it and bought a bolt action Remington 22 caliber rifle with a tube feed. A short time later he was playing marbles with his good friend Taylor Segal and his Uncle Alfred when his uncle said, “Jackson, throw that taw of yours up in the air.” Brother Jack tossed his marble high into the air and Uncle Alfred raised his 22 rifle and shot the marble into smithereens on the first shot. He then taught his nephew how to turn yourself loose and fire on impulse instead of aiming. At 14 years old he became a crack shot. One morning his grandmother expressed concern about her chickens because a hawk flew high overhead. He grabbed his 22 rifle, and with his first shot blasted the hawk out of the sky in full flight. Grandma went into the house and grabbed some money and handed it to Brother Jack as she said, “Here Jack, go buy you some more shells.”

   When the Second World War broke out, Brother Jack wanted to join the Navy and serve his country, but he was only fourteen years old. By the time he was fifteen and a half he went to the Navy enlistment office and presented them with a birth certificate showing that he was seventeen and a half. It seems that the county didn’t have his birth recorded, so he convinced the county clerk that he was two years older than his actual birth. With this, he signed up with the Navy in Dallas and was sent to Alameda California for basic training. In basic training he proved to be a ‘dead shot’ with all the weapons he was trained on. Receiving orders to serve on a brand new aircraft carrier, they took the shake down cruise and then shipped out into the Pacific. It was April 1943 and he was immediately engaged in the battle to recapture the Aleutian islands from the Japanese. In constant skirmishes with the enemy around Attu and Kiska, his ship was to return with only a handful of pilots and planes. He became a gunners mate because of his expert marksmanship acquired back on the plains of Haskell county. He became familiar with every piece of ordinance on the ship, from handguns to M1 carbines, machine guns and the five inch batteries.

   His carrier cruised back to Dutch Harbor and then they returned to the San Francisco Bay area for refitting. The day before they were to ship back out, he heard his name announced over the ship’s speakers,

“Seaman Jack Slater report to the Captain’s quarters immediately”.
When he arrived, the Captain was holding an envelope from his Mother, which included a handwritten note from the doctor who had delivered him. This clearly documented that he was not yet sixteen years old. The Captain said, “Young man, you could have cost me my commission.” and knowing that this is one man you don’t lie to, Brother Jack acknowledged that indeed it was true. The Captain then said,
“Son do you want to stay or do you want to go home?” Brother Jack said,
“ I can’t go home, those guys I run around with would never let me live it down. I’d like to stay in the Navy and go on this cruise”.
The Captain then resealed the letter and said, “You’re dismissed. I think I’ll open this letter in a couple of days when we get under way; now you better go get yourself ready, because we ship out at 8:00 o’clock in the morning.”  

   He served with honor and distinction and he still speaks of his service with great pride. On his first leave home, when Doris was fourteen and had blossomed into a beautiful young lady, he saw her again and spoke with her before he reported back to duty. She was probably quite taken by his dashing appearance in his naval uniform and on his next leave, they dated a couple of times.  When he reported back to duty, they agreed to write and their relationship grew fonder across the miles. The war matured you quickly and the uncertainties helped many to make life lasting decisions about the future. Like so many returning servicemen, they were married, shortly after he was discharged on December 21^st of 1945. She was 16 and he was a mature war veteran of 18.

 


Bro Jack at 18

Doris at 16

                                               

Brother Jack was as humble as Doris was direct, he was the strong silent type who never got angry and she was the emotional one who
showed her feelings so that you were never in doubt where she stood. Doris was passionate in her beliefs and she proudly defended her husband, her family and her belief in God.

Brother Jack was slow to anger, rarely raised his voice (even when preaching), and he had the capacity to teach a body of believers like no other pastor I have ever met. Together they were a powerful team that God used to touch hundreds of lives and lead innumerable converts to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I know that by growing up under their combined influence, I became a better person. My Mother was dying from cancer and my Dad was traveling away from home to keep work and pay his bills, so Brother Jack and Doris impacted my life more than they will probably ever know.

   Brother Jack’s attractive features with his wavy black hair sometimes turned the head of female church members, until Doris noticed their behavior. She usually found a way to catch their attention and help them understand that Brother Jack was already taken and very happily married. And I think they were; they say opposites attract and usually complement each other. They were as human as you and I and yet they had to present themselves several times a week as examples for us to follow. Sometimes their human frailties were exposed, but they never broke down or lost their respect for what they represented. They were Pastor and Wife, as well as Mother and Dad. During a sixty-three year marriage they raised sons Brad and Bill to become responsible caring Dads with children of their own. Brad’s son Scott graduated from Texas A&M where he was the kicker on their football team and then later became a Navy pilot who, ironically landed jet fighters on aircraft carriers.

   Faithful servants to their ministry they served in every capacity that was required. Doris loved to sing and she had a mellow alto voice that blended well in a duet or trio. She was nervous when singing solo, but I can still remember her beautiful version of “Follow Me”; I think it was one of her favorites. Her lilting contralto voice had a soft waver when she hit the high notes and you knew she was singing from the heart. She was the youth director when I was a teenager and she led the class singing as well as teaching the Sunday School lesson for the youth class. She taught us what she called a “Hash Chorus” that I still sing to myself when no one is around.

   She taught simply and direct, like she did everything; when trying to teach us about good and evil, she said “The old Indian illustrated the difference between good and evil by using an example of the black and white dogs. Sometimes the black dog is on top and winning and sometimes the white dog is on top and winning. You need to be sure that the white dog is always on top and you are doing the right thing, and don’t let the black dog take over because you will be doing what you shouldn’t be doing.”

It has always stuck with me that when I’ve been astray, I am letting that black dog get back on top and I need to change my ways. It really is that simple.

   Over the years, she did everything that a woman can do in a Fundamental Baptist Church, but I’m sure she could have done more if given the opportunity.

Her main job was to support her husband and in that, she never failed. Doris was his best friend, advisor, Mother of their children, constant companion, settler of disputes, champion of his causes and his loving and faithful wife.

Jack was her man and she forthrightly and earnestly defended him in every way.

   Brother Jack Slater is one of the most humble and gentle spirits that ever preached the Gospel. From his humble beginnings to his current retirement, he accomplished great things for God. All who have sat under his compelling sermons have grown spiritually and intellectually through the years. Unlike many “Fire-Breathing” pastors of his genre, who tried to scare “Hell” out of you, Brother Jack preached the truth and allowed the truth to penetrate through the Holy Spirit. He loved to tell a good humorous story to illustrate a point. He was a faithful counselor to those who needed spiritual advice and he shared the truth of the Gospel to the best of his ability. Pastors like Brother Jack are rare and we were blessed to sit under his ministry. Over the years Brother Jack performed marriage ceremonies for me and both my brothers and he even conducted the ceremony for my brother Ted a second time. I had the privilege to serve as his Music Minister in two different churches. When you work as a music minister, you have complete access to the personal side of the pastor’s life and for the several years that I worked closely with them, I learned that Brother Jack and Doris were the real thing.

Jack and Doris at a Sunday school dinner in the mid 1970’s

         

   Pastors need a hobby to relax and Brother Jack’s has most certainly been hunting and fishing. I don’t know if he picked up fishing out in the murky stock tanks of West Texas or when he was in the Navy, but the man loves to fish. Pastors don’t fish on weekends, so he went as often as he could on early week days. God blessed him, because he usually brought home plenty of bass or crappie. He has always had a boat that he customized to his needs.  In later years he took long trips to Canada to fish for muskies and hunt for Moose. Like in his old navy days, he was a crack shot and he brought home a hunting prize along with some fish he caught every year. He shot a moose every year of the five years that he sojourned  up to Red Lake Ontario. Doris went with him on the last trip and she accompanied him while they fished to their limit and then shot a moose from the boat.

   Somewhere along the way, he decided to try painting and he became very good at it. His early oil paintings were nautical themes but in recent years, he has developed a Native American and western theme to his work. He does life-like portraits of Chiefs and warriors and the horses they rode and the animals they pursued. He stopped painting for over three years when Doris fell and broke her hip. I am privileged to own a beautiful painting of a three-masted frigate sailing on a cloudy night with shafts of moon beams breaking through the clouds and illuminating the ship. It was the first painting he had done since she broke her hip and it is one of my most prized possessions. Since then he has begun painting religious scenes that include Daniel in the lion’s den and Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane.

   Brother Jack and Doris have led extraordinary lives in a simple understated way. Never boasting of their accomplishments, they have quietly influenced at least three generations and they have been an inspiration to a lot of folks like me. Doris resides in Heaven tonight and I’m reminded that she’s probably watching me, so I had better be good.

  Brother Jack told me that a friend of theirs told him recently, “You know Brother Jack, you never had to wonder where you were at with Doris”. I agree with that, and I feel the same about Brother Jack; Pastor, Mentor, Friend and Counselor, a man who has done so much and asked for so little. Together, Brother Jack and Doris were a dynamic team and served with true humility; I can just imagine what it’s going to be like when they meet again in Heaven. Doris will probably stick her tongue out at Brother Jack and then give him a great big hug to welcome him home. Then they will sing a duet together of ‘Follow Me’; Oh yes, Brother Jack, you’ll be able to sing in Heaven! You’ll have to take the lead, because Doris will be ‘spot on’ the harmony.

Brother Jack on 82^nd Birthday

 

 

 

 

 

FOLLOW ME (1953)   by Ira Stanphill

I traveled down a lonely road, and no one seemed to care, the burden on my weary back had bowed me to despair;

I oft complained to Jesus how folks were treating me, and then I heard him say so tenderly:

"My feet were oh so weary upon the Calvary road, my cross became so heavy, I fell beneath the load;

Be faithful, weary pilgrim, the morning I can see, just lift your cross and follow close to me."

"I work so hard for Jesus," I often boast and say," I've sacrificed a lot of things to walk the narrow way,

I gave up fame and fortune,; I'm worth a lot to Thee," And then I hear Him gently say to me,

"I left the throne of glory and counted it but loss, my hands were nail'd in anger upon a cruel cross,

But now we'll make the journey with your hand safe in mine, so lift your cross and follow close to me."

Oh, Jesus, If I die upon a foreign field some day,  t’would be no more than love demands, no less could I repay;

"No greater love hath mortal man than for a friend to die," And then I heard Him gently say to me:

"If just a cup of water I place within your hands, then just a cup of water is all that I demand;"

But if by death to living they can thy glory see, I'll take my cross and follow close to thee.

A visit with Mike

Several months prior to losing his battle with cancer, Mike told me that he inquired and discovered that he was qualified for burial at the DFW National Cemetery in Grand Prairie, TX. He was, in fact, a Vietnam veteran and therefore imminently deserving of the honor. I am proud of him for that. Our Dad was also a veteran of WWII and he would have been proud of his son.

The DFW National Cemetery was opened in 2000 with over 600 acres overlooking Mountain Creek Lake. It is a beautiful setting as the final resting place for thousands of America's heroes. It is a fitting tribute to those who served. I was deeply touched by the enormous integrity of the beautifully orchestrated composition of respect and honor.

Ted and I wanted to visit Mike and pay him our respects. Ted was facing open heart surgery in two days and we just wanted to visit with family. It was a warm sunny day and it was easy to find his plot. The markers are beautifully laid out in carefully planned rows. We found his marker easily and spent time checking out the area. It will be a memorable spot when it is completed.

Love you Brother!

Mike is located in section 100 - Site 817. The map below will guide you.

Tributes to Michael L Warbritton

Vera Jo’s Tribute

  

Three weeks ago, my Popsi passed away after a long fight with esophageal cancer. I've been grappling with the weight of his passing but I've found comfort in knowing that he is leaving behind a legacy of love and service; to live in the hearts of those we leave behind is not to die at all.

Here is what I know———grass feels best underneath bare feet, dirt looks best under finger nails, and peaches taste best right off of the tree.

Here is what I know———scratchy goatee kisses are the softest, the best hugs are big bear hugs, tooth picks don’t make very good q-tips, and tractors will always be more fun to drive than any sports car.

Here is what I know———every day can be an adventure, the back roads will always be more beautiful that the highways, stories are often better told than read, and “darlin’” should only ever be said in my grandfather's voice.

Here is what I know———as much as I miss the growing pains that made my legs hurt, not my heart, I am so lucky to have spent a lifetime learning from my Popsi.

My grandfather was a man with a personality almost as big as his heart. I will always think most fondly of his bright spirit, the ways his eyes lit up any time he looked upon the beauty and grace of my grandmother, and his uncanny ability to turn a stranger into a lifelong friend in just a matter of minutes.

Undoubtedly, my grandfather has made me into the young woman I am today. He taught me to love unselfishly, how to listen wholeheartedly, and how to live passionately. He taught me how to walk with purpose and how to dream with hope. From our farmhouse fun to our dog days in the desert, our relationship was most precious to me.

My grandfather was a blessing to all those fortunate enough to have known him. As my little brother said, he was a profoundly happy man, who always had a smile to offer. From Sweetwater, Texas to Vietnam, to the ends of the earth, my grandfather has touched lives and his memory lives on in us. I cannot wait to tell my own children of the successes and accomplishments of their great grandfather. Fly high, airman.

 

 

 

Andrew's Tribute

 

As every kid grows up, they all have dreams to one day become big and be remembered for their accomplishments. Many set goals to become a famous singer, athlete, or even as far as being the first person to go back in time. Although these goals are set at such a high caliber, and they aren't necessarily impossible, at one point every kid must face reality and realize that it Is highly unlikely that those dreams will come true. While this could be painful to realize, it does no...t mean that you can't still make an impact on the world and be remembered. My grandfather, Michael Warbritton or as I call him, Popsi was able to do just that. Despite losing his battle to Esophagus cancer, he fought every day of his life to keep pushing and surviving. Every day that I was able to spend with him I will cherish for the rest of my life. Before and even after his diagnosis, he was the happiest man I ever knew. He could walk down the street and find a way to become a friend with every one he saw. He never became famous, yet he made one of the biggest impacts on the world that I will never forget. "I believe every human has a finite number of heartbeats. I don't intend to waste any of mine." -Neil Armstrong

 

 

 

 

My Brother Mike - My Tribute

How do you measure the depth of a man’s character, the breadth of his love, the height of his compassion? I believe that it is measured in the life that he lives, by the way he treats those he loves, by the way he serves others in need, by the passion that drives his commitments.

He was named after our grandfathers, Oscar Mike Mosely and James Leroy Warbritton. I am sure that he was glad she didn’t name him “Oscar Leroy”. Mother called him Mike because her father was called Mike. He later preferred to be called Michael and he was tagged “Popsi” by his grandchildren.

Mike was a total commitment kind of a guy. When a task had to be accomplished, he pursued it with a firm dedication until it was done. He dedicated years taking correspondence courses from Southern Illinois U. He eventually acquired an undergraduate degree before he retired from the USAF. He told Ted and I that he completed his entire degree “without ever setting foot on campus”. After leaving the Air Force he acquired a Masters Degree in Education at North Texas University within a few years. He pursued a Doctorate to the point of writing his thesis but decided to pursue teaching and administration in technical education. He stuck to the plan and accomplished his goal.

This level of education enabled him to pursue another of his great loves in life, teaching young adults. Mike taught high school in Fort Worth until he was chosen as a Dean at Mountain View College in Dallas. From there he earned a position of Dean in Technical Training in Maryland. After this time, he taught at inner city schools in Baltimore and York Community College in Pennsylvania. Wherever he lived, he taught, and his students admired and respected him. He loved teaching and he eagerly shared his knowledge to help others. When Ted and I had a computer problem, we always called Mike. Granted, Ted is still trying to figure out how to use his flip phone, but Mike always responded to our needs.

Mike was a “prolific reader”; he devoured books by his favorite authors. He sometimes sent me books by writers he had recently discovered, and we discussed books we had both read. He introduced Ted and I to Craig Johnson and I put him onto Rick Atkinson. We both shared an interest in the Civil War, modern history, historical fiction and contemporary thrillers, but he read with an intensity that I could not match. I have never met a person who could consume so much information so quickly.

Helping others became a driving force after his retirement. He joined the Knights of Columbus and served others in countless ways through their charitable projects. He embraced his faith in God and he put his beliefs into action. He became a staunch supporter of military veterans, going to airports and greeting returning service men and women, welcoming them back with gift bags and thanking them for their service. He told me that he could make a connection with any veteran he met; just for the record, Mike met few in his life that he didn’t make a connection with. He was genuinely interested in everyone’s story.

It was in a summer scout day camp in Sweetwater TX that he learned to build model airplanes. He actually started with simple plastic models but eventually graduated to the balsa wood kits where you built the frame and then covered them with a tissue paper skin, painted them and then put a rubber band motor in them. When completed, you could take them to an open field and fly them.  (Well, at least once). It was the beginning of a lifetime hobby that he never gave up. After retiring from the Air Force, he started building model planes for ex-pilots who flew in WWII, Korea and Vietnam. For everyone that he built a special plane, he requested only that they send him a photo of them holding their plane. He mounted them on authentic bases and with authentic markings, and they were graciously received. One is permanently displayed in the Volk National Guard AFB museum in Wisconsin, honoring Jerome A. Volk, a veteran of World War II who was killed in Korea. Mike was so proud that he was asked to honor him. One of his models proudly sits on a bookshelf in my home. When mine arrived, I told him that one of the bombs had fallen off in shipping and he replied, “Not to worry, I sent you a packet of glue to reattach anything like that.” He prepared for contingencies in everything he did. His models are meticulously detailed with authentic squadron colors and insignia. His work was impeccable.

His thoughtfulness touched all that he loved. As we were talking one day, he mentioned that he had just bought some ruby cufflinks at an antique store. I told him that I used to own some, and they had been lost over the years, but they were my favorites. A week later I received a package from him with a pair of ruby cufflinks. Mike was like that and I’m wearing them today.

   “When Mike and I ventured out on the course for the first time, we knew it was going to be special. Our clubs were loaded into our cart and after warming up on a bag of range balls we advanced to the first tee. It was a beautiful day, we had no deadlines and it was an immense pleasure to just play at our pace and enjoy each other’s company. I know that many folks don’t understand the senselessness of chasing a little white ball over 6500 yards of golf course, but they don’t understand the real benefit of playing a round of golf. First of all, an enormously beautiful setting of plush greenery, fragrant pines, crystal clear ponds and freshly mowed greens surrounded us. Secondly, we were given precious personal time to spend with each other and to catch up on many missing segments of our lives. And lastly, we actually enjoyed the pursuit of excellence in our golf games; especially when we hit a good shot. But golf is about more than striking a ball, it’s everything surrounding the act; including the camaraderie of the participants. We bonded like brothers of old; before the jobs, the families and the distances got in the way; we had a great day.”  

When we were kids, he got Ted and I into a lot of trouble. Like when he talked us into breaking into an unfinished shool in our neighborhood and riding up and down the halls with muddy tires, or when he talked us into roping calves at Uncle Grant’s corral and trying to ride them like rodeo cowboys. I guess these were the days that he was developing his leadership skills. He taught me how to catch crawdads with a piece of bread on a string. He destroyed my belief in Santa in 1954 by showing me where all the gifts were hidden in the top of Mother’s closet.

One didn’t have to be around him long to realize that he loved baseball and football. During Cowboy games we would exchange texts and complain about a play we had just watched, “Romo is off today”, “Did you see that catch that Dez made?”. He knew I loved TCU and he would text me to let me know what channel to watch for their upcoming game.(Like I didn’t already know) He surprised me by sending me a TCU cap and decal after this past season. I think I almost turned him to a Horned Frog fan this past year, but Mike loved his Rangers, Cowboys, and Longhorns.

He also loved his music, whether it be country or classic or most anything in between. From George Strait to Eric Clapton. We swapped music that we both enjoyed. I think that maybe he liked Irish folk music best. He made me copies of his favorite Irish family, “The Leahys”. He listened with sophisticated headphones to fully enjoy his favorites, Mike loved his music.

But what Mike loved most was family, all of his family, all the in-laws, and all the outlaws, and all of his dogs (Cisco, Travis, Scooter and Jefe). If you were family, you were loved and he was willing to do anything he could for you, and all he wanted in return was our acknowledgement of his love.

He had a deep and abiding love for his birth family including his brothers, cousins, his nephews and neices. He loved you all.

His heart was broken at the loss of his  daughter, Melissa, over 18 years ago and his heart rejoiced last week at the visit of his son, James Michael. Michael, I pray that God will grant you peace in your heart as you savor the good times you shared with your dad, for he loved you dearly. Amanda and Shelby and Aaron, you are special and he was brimming over with pride and love when he was able to be with you.

He met the true love of his life and soul-mate in Cynthia. She helped mold him into a kinder and gentler person as she steadfastly stood by her man. Last year in his blog entitled “My Hero Cynthia” he wrote, “ BUT, the real hero in my trials and tribulations belong to one person and one person ONLY, my wife Cynthia.  No one has done more to be there at all the critical moments of my progress through this process called cancer.” He also renewed his faith in God, as he wrote, “My faith in God is paramount, unwavering, and strong.”

He fell in love with all of Cyb’s family. I don’t have to tell you this Kim, but he adored you and Bruce and all of yours. Stacy, he had an unbreakable bond with you and your children, and I know you felt the same. He deeply loved and proudly supported Vera Jo and Andrew and he loved you as his own.

How do you measure the depth of a man’s character? I do it by comparing him to my brother Mike, a man who lived life to the fullest, who accomplished much, who served his country, who gave freely of himself, and above all, a man who loved much. He let us all know we were loved by his constant thoughtfulness and his abundant generosity.

I will end with the last words I spoke to him. “I’ll see you soon, I love you Mike”.

 

 



Remembering Mike

I wrote this story several years ago, I don't have a better memory of Mike.

Mid Pines Lodge

 

   Brothers get separated through the years; we graduated from high school; we joined the military or started careers; eventually we got married; we started a family of our own; then we had children and watched them grow up. My oldest brother and I moved many times to many states and over the years we lost close contact with each other. Our middle brother, Ted, chose a career that kept him in one location for forty years and I lived near him for twenty years, but job opportunities eventually moved me and separated us. We all kept in touch on birthdays and holidays, but none of us were living close enough to visit as often as we wished. It didn’t mean that we didn’t care for each other; growing our own families and careers just took us down separate paths. Ultimately, all three of us went through divorces and each of us in turn discovered our soul mates that will remain our marriage partners for the rest of our lives. Over the years we found ourselves spread out, from Texas to North Carolina to Pennsylvania.

   It was an effort to try and rekindle some of the closeness we had lost over the years that brought my oldest brother and I together in Southern Pines, North Carolina. When he called to plan a visit with me, I suggested that we stay and play at a golf resort community I had discovered in recent years. We had both learned to play golf with good friends and both suffer rather high handicaps. Mike and I had casually played only a couple of times before and we felt comfortable with each other’s level of play. Mid-Pines Inn and Golf Club is not the typical resort that you find today, in fact, the inn was constructed in 1921 and the course was built by the Carolina’s most prominent Scottish designer, Donald Ross. He, of course, is also the architect of the world-famous Pinehurst Golf Resort where Payne Stewart won his celebrated US Open.

   The Inn itself is magnificently nostalgic; it literally takes you back almost a hundred years to a simpler and uncluttered lifestyle. The white painted brick exterior fits in comfortably with the ancient pines that line the circular driveway to the entrance. When you look at it the very first time, you just know that your pace is about to slow down. A caddy meets you in the lobby and your clubs are carted off to be stored for your entire stay. Your room keys are real metal keys and the stairs are your elevator; there are only three floors, so you haven’t far to walk. Although the rooms are currently being renovated, they still retained their quaint original feel when we stayed there. I felt like I needed to purchase some knickers before we started our first round. Aside from our snoring, it was a peaceful and restful place to replenish our aching muscles. We stayed on an overnight golf package that provided dinner at the club, then breakfast and lunch the following day. It included a round of golf at Mid-Pines and another round at the Pine Needles Golf Club across the street where the Ladies US Open was played in 2007.

 

   When Mike and I ventured out on the course for the first time, we knew it was going to be special. Our clubs were loaded into our cart and after warming up on a bag of range balls we advanced to the first tee. It was a beautiful day, we had no deadlines and it was an immense pleasure to just play at our pace and enjoy each other’s company. I know that many folks don’t understand the senselessness of chasing a little white ball over 6500 yards of golf course, but they don’t understand the real benefit of playing a round of golf. First of all, an enormously beautiful setting of plush greenery, fragrant pines, crystal clear ponds and freshly mowed greens surrounded us. Secondly, we were given precious personal time to spend with each other and to catch up on many missing segments of our lives. And lastly, we actually enjoyed the pursuit of excellence in our golf games; especially when we hit a good shot. But golf is about more than striking a ball, it’s everything surrounding the act; including the camaraderie of the participants. We bonded like brothers of old; before the jobs, the families and the distances got in the way; we had a great day.

No 1 Hole at Mid-Pines

 

   After playing through beautiful fairways lined in tall pines and dogwoods, there were usually multiple sand traps surrounding the greens to collect your errant approach shots. On a few holes there were water hazards but we managed to avoid hitting anything into the water. We played in and out of the sand and even tempted a few birdies during the round. When you line up on the 18^th tee box, you feel as though you are playing on television and you are in the lead and about to make the final drive of your tournament. The fairway is lined by pines and a sand bunker that lead up to a small lake just in front of the green.

   The green is nestled in a semi-arc of the old inn itself; my minds eye envisioned thousands of cheering fans waiting for our arrival. We managed to avoid the water, but we did discover a rose garden to the right of the green. The scores weren’t spectacular; just our usual round.

 

No 18 Hole at Mid-Pines

 

   After finishing the round we showered and dressed for dinner. The Inn had a dress code and furnished jackets if you forgot to bring your own. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, but there weren’t many guests staying, so we had a quiet and pleasant dinner. The Inn had a recreation room which included a pool table and a ping-pong table, so we tried a little of both. No fierce competition, just a friendly match between two brothers. I thought that if Ted had come, we could have all relived some fun times from the past. Brothers have a special bond, and even after all the years, we could still renew that spirit which had been lying dormant within us.

We retired to bed early for we had an early start time on the sister course that next morning. The breakfast was excellent with bacon, eggs, grits, fruits, freshly baked muffins, and your choice of juices and coffee.

   We played Pine Needles at the same pace; the course is similar to Mid-Pines, but more daunting and newer. The challenges for golfers at our level were somewhat accelerated because this course has been the site of several tournaments on the LPGA. On the first par-4 hole I hit a good drive and followed it with a decent approach shot, which landed pin-high but buried in the middle of a left side sand trap. I made the sand shot cleanly and it landed just past the flag but it kept on rolling until it trickled off the green on the opposite side. Unfortunately, there was a matching sand trap on the right side of the green.

I managed to do the reverse trick and sent the ball right back into the left side sand trap from whence I had just left. I managed a seven on the hole but played the rest of the round without similar mishap. Mike and I enjoyed the day and again shared the companionship of each other’s company.

   We ended the day with lunch at the Mid-Pine club lounge and a trip to the golf shop at the club. As we packed up and left the premises, we both took a wistful look back toward the quaint old structure that had just provided us with a warm and lasting memory. On the way home we visited Pinehurst Golf Resort and discovered one of America’s finest golfing opportunities; perhaps to be enjoyed on a future venture.

   Although Ted doesn’t play golf, I’ve tried to encourage him to go out with us and just drive the cart, because the real joy in playing with your brothers is not the game; it’s connecting with each other. As the old saying goes, it’s not the destination that counts; it’s the journey that really matters. I hope that someday soon the three of us will tee off to a fun time of sharing; and re-kindling of the bonds of brotherhood.

 

 

Pinehurst Golf Resort

Twenty Years Ago

If you think dating was awkward the first time you tried it, you can’t imagine how uncomfortable it can be on the second time around. If you are fortunate enough to be in a first marriage that has survived all your trials and tribulations, then hang on to your spouse and count your blessings. Some embarrassing things happened when I found myself single again after many years of marriage and in my late forties. You don’t plan on putting yourself in this position, it just happens.
  First of all, I felt lonely for companionship and after raising a family, I needed someone to share my home and life. I met a lady in New Jersey who taught a class I attended for my job. We went to dinner a couple of nights during the week of class and though we were physically attracted, I soon realized that we were poles apart in our philosophy of life. I didn’t call her when I returned home and she became very angry, so I never dated her again. Linda, the lady who cut my hair, decided I was a good match for a client of hers whom I had never seen and she gave me her phone number. I called and set up a rendezvous at a nice restaurant; she told me what she would be wearing and I arrived early to wait for her. Linda forgot to tell me that she would be wearing a hair-do straight from Bozo the clown’s wardrobe. She was a nice person, but I was not attracted to her at all; I didn’t lie when I said I would be out of town for the next week, but I did misrepresent my intentions when I told her that I would probably call her when I came back home. I didn’t call her and I told Linda that she just wasn’t my type. Her hair-cutting partner at the shop said he knew I wouldn’t like her, but he bet that I would like another client of theirs. I said, “No more blind dates”, so Linda arranged a “chance meeting” at the shop. I arrived early for my appointment and the new prospect passed me on her way out of the shop. We had a couple of dates and when I brought candy to her on Valentines Day, she suddenly decided I was getting too serious and said she didn’t want to see me anymore. Frustrated, and feeling unlucky, I decided that I was looking for companionship in the wrong places.
  It occurred to me that God might be waiting for me to turn things over to Him; so I did. I remember praying one evening for a couple of hours, pouring out my heart to God; asking Him to show me His will and His way in my life. I was lonely and I truly sought a companion to share my life. I prayed, “Lord, please give me peace in my heart, and help me find the person that you want me to find”. I prayed through and knew without a doubt that He would lead me to the right lady, in His own time.
   I changed churches and started attending a singles class that included folks who had never been married and those like me that were ‘single again’. I didn’t try to pursue anyone, I became an active member, attended all the social functions, went with the group to eat together after services and we all congregated during the church services.  Even though I didn’t find anyone special, I developed a lot of new friendships and found myself enjoying life again. But I still longed for that soul mate that would complete my life.
  Things became a little awkward when Amy, my twenty year old daughter, moved in with me and started attending my singles class at church. I thought, “How am I ever going to get on with my life under such conditions?” but I wasn’t giving God the credit He deserves. He eventually used Amy to help me find the woman He had put in my path. During a singles class meeting I leaned over and whispered to Amy, “Now which one of these ladies do I need to get to know a little better”. She surveyed the room and whispered back to me,”How about that tall redhead back there?” Now I’ll have to admit that I had considered that possibility myself, for she was very attractive. She was new to the class and I had been in a small study group with her where I found her to be smart and well spoken. I thought she might have some interest in me because she made a point to stop me between bible class and church service. She reached out and grabbed my arm as she told me that she was glad I had joined the class and welcomed me to the class. She assured me later that the gesture was purely plutonic and she would have done the same for any new member. Either way, I’m glad she did.
   After Amy’s confirmation that I might be on the right track, I discovered that the beautiful redhead sat on the opposite side of the sanctuary with a cute bespectacled blond daughter. I asked around, got her phone number and called her to see if she had any interest in me. She said that she wouldn’t object to sitting next to me for the evening service, so I slipped in late and quietly listened to the evening sermon. She took my actions as evasive and thought that I was a bit rude for not talking to her during the service. She was agreeable to going out for coffee after the service and we had a warm and pleasant conversation over several cups of coffee and an excellent piece of pie. With all the normal pleasantries out of the way, we began to date and engage in learning more about each other in our talks over the phone. Now she didn’t know that her name was the same as my ex-wife so I asked her, “Now how do you spell your name, with a ‘C’ or an ‘S’. Cheryl said, “with a ‘C”, so I then asked, “and what is your middle name?” She replied, “Lee” which I did not immediately reveal to her was the same as my ex-wife. After hanging up I assessed that if we were to eventually marry, she would have the exact name as my ex-wife, Sheryl Lee Warbritton. The irony wasn’t lost on either of us when I finally told her. When I asked her how old she was, she must have thought it inappropriate, but I was determined that I was not going to get serious with a younger woman when I was forty-nine years old. When she said she was forty-two, she must have been surprised when I breathed a sigh of relief. Her daughter was thirteen and she wanted to know that I would be a good father, so she grilled me thoroughly on my parental qualities. The more that we talked, the more we wanted to learn about each other.
  I took her to a restaurant and she seemed to talk to everyone but me. I thought, “This is never going to work” and wondered why she even went with me. She apparently was having doubts about me and in a few days, she said she really thought we should just be friends. With no plans on keeping that commitment, I said, “No problem, we’ll just be friends”. On the very next date, I kissed her and told her that I was just being friendly and meant nothing by it. Our friendship deepened over the next few months and I knew that this was the one that God had put in my life and she just needed more time. More accurately, her Mom needed more time, for she correctly cautioned Cheryl to be certain about the man who would become a parent to her granddaughter, Angela. We continued dating and it never became less awkward; when you’re close to fifty, things just aren’t the same as when you were a teenager. One night after going to a movie, we parked a couple of blocks from her Mom’s home, because I wanted a goodnight kiss. A couple of minutes later, a policeman pulled up to the car, put his flashlight in my face, and asked for my ID. Sheepishly, I evidenced my age and explained that she lived just down the street. To our joint embarrassment, he said with a chuckle, “You kids need to find somewhere else to do your parking; the lady inside called us to check you out.” Needless to say, we took his advice.
  Cheryl finally admitted that we were beyond the ‘friend’ stage but she wanted to learn more of my character and past. When my cousins came to visit from Georgia and she saw the closeness we shared as family, she had to admit that we should consider a more permanent arrangement (that would at least keep us off the streets at night). Her family is close and has large family gatherings around the holidays. At the family Christmas party, her step-brother Harold dressed in a Santa costume and everyone sat in his lap to tell him what they wanted. When Amy sat in his lap, she looked around the room and said, “All I want for Christmas is for Daddy and Cheryl to get married”. Cheryl thought I put her up to it, but I didn’t; Amy was just following God’s timetable and announcing to the rest of the family what Cheryl and I already knew.
   I planned on asking Cheryl soon after, in the hope that her gracious acceptance would end our uncomfortable dating scenario. We went to a jewelry store and Cheryl showed me the style of ring she wanted. I returned in a couple of weeks and chose the one she liked best. Anxious to move on with our lives, I invited her to an upscale restaurant and surprised her by formally asking her to marry. Cheryl was easy to talk with and we had just become very good friends as well as being very much in love with each other. We started making plans for a June wedding and now the awkward dating scene was officially over. Her Mom finally gave her blessing and we decided to have the ceremony in her back yard. Now Cheryl is laid back and I’m the planner, so I developed a thorough program that included our whole family.
  Cheryl’s brother, John who is a chaplain, would come in from Texas to perform the ceremony and all five of our children would participate in the ceremony. My two sons and two daughters, along with her daughter, would all sing and my two small grandchildren would be the ring bearer and flower girl. We recorded music that was special to us and we had good friends play it at the appropriate intervals over a rented PA system. It rained in the early morning, but cleared off for the late afternoon ceremony and everything went off without a hitch. My brothers and their families attended as well as Cheryl’s extended local family and many close friends. We had a wonderful wedding and invited everyone to dinner and dancing in the backyard after the festivities. It was not a party to get drunk, it was a time for family to celebrate. It was a joyous occasion for two second-time-around hopefuls to begin anew and share their joy. We played music from the Mills Brothers to current top hits and everyone danced away their cares. Cheryl and I slipped out and headed to the airport for our honeymoon flight to Sanibel Island off the Florida coast. We rented a red convertible and spent several days relaxing on the sunny beaches, shopping at the beach specialty shops and dining in the quaint restaurants that dot the island. No more dating- Hallelulah!
  I sincerely hope that you will be as blessed as we were if you ever have to face the process of dating again. My second-time-around has been my sweetheart and best friend for over twenty years now and we look forward to each new year as if it were our first one.  Don’t forget that only God can bring you true peace in your heart and try as you might, you will never achieve it on your own. John 14:27 “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.”

 

                                                       Happy Couple 


 

                      The whole Bunch            

                                  

 

 Written by David Warbritton for the Warbritton Family