Veteran newsman Tom Brokaw got it right when he declared the men and women who survived the Great Depression and triumphed over tyranny in World War II, the “greatest generation.” I thought of this as I sat with Henry Gaddy in his home in Kannapolis last week. Henry is a poster person for that generation of Americans who inspire us to be all that God wants us to be. We sat under the nearby gaze of a photo of Henry and his late wife, Lois, taken on their 60th wedding anniversary. Her name came up several times in our conversation.

     Henry—he says his friends call him “Gaddy”—is 94 years old. It is easy for him to recollect many details of his long life. We talked about his service in the U.S. navy during The Great War. And we talked about his work as a barber. Henry and I have in common that we are both bald-headed fellows. I didn’t tell “Gaddy”—he’s my friend—that there’s only one caution I have about him. I have a 50-year policy that I never buy hair tonic from a bald-headed barber. But back to my report; we got to talking about churches, singing, preaching and such things as that. One story would prompt another. We just kicked back as two old, southern, story tellers are quick to do.

     He told me about how his beloved Lois used to enjoy listening to the singing wafting out of the upraised windows of the neighborhood church on a hot summer night. That reminded me of the story of the two sisters who were sitting in the swing on their front porch on one sizzling evening. One of the sisters was listening to a chorus of crickets raising quite a ruckus. The other sister was listening to the choir rehearsing down in the village church a few hundred feet away. The windows were open and the voices sounded like angels serenading the town. She remarked, “My, don’t they make marvelous music together?” The sister who was listening to the crickets replied, “Yes. And to think, they do it by rubbing their legs together!”

     Speaking of flinging open the windows on summer days to get some air stirring in hot churches, the minister of one church asked the ushers to open all the windows one sweltering day. He announced, “I can’t bear to watch people sleeping in a poorly ventilated room!” But that’s another story for another time.

     My story about the crickets reminded Gaddy of the fellow who wanted to experience a fox hunt. So his friend who had some fine fox hounds invited him to go along on a hunt. He said, “Now when they rouse a fox, the music will begin and they will get the fox.” Soon it happened. The hounds began to howl and run. When the chase was ended, the owner of the hounds asked the observer what he thought. The tag-a-long said, “Well, it was exciting, but I never heard the music.” I remembered sitting with my grandfather late at night listening to the singing of coon hounds in the hunt on the Eastern Tennessee ridges. Some folk never hear the music.

     We talked about preaching and preachers. I could hear in Gaddy’s comments his love of the Bible—especially the King James Version of the scriptures. I know what he’s talking about. Although, I sometimes use my own translation of scripture in preaching, often I also long to hear the music of that classic, old translation.

     Before I said goodbye to Gaddy, we went out and surveyed his very large vegetable garden. It is a work of art. Not a weed had the nerve to try to take root there. He gets out early in the morning to tend it before the heat takes over. And in a thoroughly modern, eco-friendly practice to save water, he collects water condensed from the air-conditioner in his house and uses it to water his thriving vegetables. As you might guess, after I spoke a prayer with my friend overlooking his garden, I headed home with a bag of home-grown tomatoes.

     If you want to enjoy the company of a member of the greatest generation, you will find him in his pew every Sunday at Trinity United Methodist in Kannapolis.  If you ask someone to point him out, the women will say, “He’s that adorable one.”  Men will say, “He’s that fine gentleman.”  He will be the dapper guy in the bowtie.

• Back to Archive
• Back to Media Gallery