Wednesday, October 3, 2018

Eulogy for Thomas J. Howell: My Dad. None Better.



You remember the old admonition about following children or an animal act on the Ed Sullivan show? 

Good morning.  My name is Keith Howell; I am Tommy Howell’s son.  

I would like to thank you all for being here today; especially all of you who traveled long distances to be with us.  Your presence is a tremendous comfort to us. 

A reading from Psalm 119:133 (NIV):
Direct my footsteps according to your word; let no sin rule over me. 

Certainly Dad led an unambiguous life. 

When I think of Dad, I think of boots.  Work boots.  A man’s boots.  Nothing defined my memories of Dad more than his boots. 
He spent time with me.  He invested time in me, camping, fishing, cutting firewood, and hunting.  Well, not hunting exactly; we would take guns into the woods and shoot stuff. 
One might think it odd that foot-wear is the one thing that comes to mind on a day like this, but the many things that he did, those lessons learned, that which I remember most about Dad, those things that were a part of his character, I learned while he was wearing boots. 

But it should not be so strange when you consider the Psalm 37.23:
“The steps of a good man are established by the LORD, And He delights in his way.” 

I remember when I was a boy, perhaps I was in second-grade; my Dad came home later than usual.  It was early fall and already dark outside as stepped through the door.  I was lying on the floor watching TV; the first thing that I saw was his boots. 
The reason why he was late coming home that day is because joined a volunteer effort to search for a 5-year-old boy that had gone missing.  My Dad and many other boot-wearing men had gathered, after working all day, to roam the woods near the boy’s house.  Unfortunately, the child’s body was found many days later in a river downstream from where they were looking. 

Seeing my dad do something like that impressed me.  The lesson learned is that men, REAL MEN, are supposed to look for lost children.  Men are created to find the lost and protect the defenseless.  Dad did not have to go look for that little boy, but he did.  Because that’s what men do.  I was so proud of my dad for that.  I wanted to be a man like that. 

Not long after that Dad’s union went on strike.  Dad, being faced with no work and having a family to support, went to work as a common construction laborer when the original K-Mart was being built in East Rome.  The Home Depot is there now. 
He told me that sometimes we don’t get the job we want; but we need to be thankful for the work that we are given.  And we should do that work, and do it well.  For all work done well, no matter how lowly, is noble.  Everything that we do is to be done to the Glory of God.  Dad taught us that. 

Sunday
The only day of the week that Dad did not wear boots was on Sunday.  All of his life, Dad loved to be in church.  When we were real little, we went to Wesley Chapel just down the road the house where we grew up.   

Dad was always serious about going to church.  He was even more serious about being at church ON TIME.  Naturally, we kids were not.  Once we were dressed, we all were glued to the TV and watch “Popeye” and “Hercules” in black and white.  Not that we liked those cartoons, but there were only three channels back then, so what are you going to do?  After the cartoons, a singing program called “Gospel Jubilee” came on.  It was well understood that the kids should be on our way to the car when “Gospel Jubilee” came on.  There was trouble to be had if the “Happy Goodman’s” belted out the last verse of “Jubilee” and you were not in the car yet. 

Another memory from my childhood – There were many Saturdays when Dad would take me with him when he had to go to the auto parts store, hardware store, or other places that men would need to go. 

Dad would often take me to the Waffle House afterward on those Saturday errands, on the condition that I would not tell the girls.  Dad said that they would be upset that he took me (being the boy and all), and did not take them. 

Many years later, after I graduated from college, Tammy and I both happened to be in Atlanta got together for lunch - at a Waffle House in Atlanta.  I figured that the statute of limitations had run out on promises not to tell about those Saturday trips with Dad to the Waffle House.  So I told Tammy about it.  Tammy exclaimed “Dad took me to the Waffle House too!  He made me promise not to tell you about it either!” 
Dad taught us the value of keeping another’s confidence. 

Dad had a great sense of humor and it was displayed in the way that he would say things.  For example, dinnertime in our house was always entertaining when Chris got into high school.  Chris told us all of the latest gossip about the kids and the teachers and the highlights of the day.  She was hilarious!  She talked a lot. 

That prompted Dad to say to her things like: “Sweet heart, if someone grabbed ahold of your tongue; you’d shake yourself to death before you shut up”. 
The real fun started when Chris and Sharon reached dating age.  Dad would frequently answer the home phone “Georgia State Patrol”. 

Speaking of Howell humor, when Dad was still in the hospital, Uncle Larry commented: “I have more hair than Keith and Tommy put together, and I had chemo.”  So C.J., Thomas, Allen – hate to tell you boys, but we got the shallow end of the gene pool on that one.”  

Dad demanded respect for his girls.  One young man came to the house to call see Sharon.  He had on a denim vest and blue jeans, nothing else.  No shirt, no shoes.  It was the 70’s after all. Now, in his defense, he called dad “sir” and shook his hand.  And he drove a cool car – a blue Cougar, if I remember.  But Dad did not say a word the whole time the young fella was there. 

When the young man got up to leave, Dad called him by name and said: “The next time you come here, you need to out some clothes on.”  The boy said “Yes sir” and left – without my sister.  You see, the Howells have a policy: “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Sharon”. 
Daddy’s girls are going to be respected.  He taught me to treat women with respect. 

Then there was the time that I got stuck in my sleeping bag on a church camping trip for boys when I was 10.  That wouldn’t have so bad, except that the preacher told the whole congregation about it, - from the pulpit. 

I wasn’t there, (I was at home with a sore throat, having been camping that weekend) but my sisters were.  And boy, did they get embarrassed when everyone laughed at the family.  Steam was coming out of their ears when they got home they were so angry.  Dad was grinning ear to ear.  He said “It was pretty funny.” 

Then there was the fat baby Tammy baby-doll high chair massacre.  

You wouldn’t know it to look at her now, but Tammy was a fat baby.  When Chris and Sharon were little, they got matching baby dolls and matching baby doll high-chairs.  They thought it would be neat to put a real baby in the high chair. 
These baby doll high chair were made for baby dolls.  No amount of baby oil, Crisco, 3 in 1 oil, could dislodge fat baby Tammy from that baby doll high chair. 
Dad told me many years later “I tried to get good toys for you kids, but darned if you kids didn’t try to tear ‘em as fast as you can.” 

When Tammy was just a toddler, maybe about two or so, she would call Dad her boyfriend.  People would ask her “Who’s your boyfriend?” she would say “Daddy”.  Then they would point to mom and ask “Who’s this?” and Tammy would say “She’s a hippy.” 

And that is how Tammy got to be the favorite.  Chris got the brains, the intelligence.  Sharon got the heart, his warmth and compassion.  I got Dad’s good looks.  

But Tammy, Tammy you got to be the favorite. 

But of all the attributes that we gain from Dad: intelligence, heart, looks, or favor – that which he purposely instilled most in us were his values. 

You see, Dad never tried to be our friend.  We had plenty of friends already.  Friends we have.  He gave us what no one else could give us, and what could only come from him: a father. 

Dad prepared us for life.  He made it clear that he did not want us to be dependent on him, emotionally, financially, or otherwise.  He wanted us to make our own decisions, be our own selves, our best selves.  His goal was for us to stand on our own two feet and be adults. 

But more than that, Dad knew that the principal role, the PRIMARY ROLE of a father is to point his family toward Christ.  Tommy Howell was a Deuteronomy 6 father. 

Deut 6 NIV
“Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. 6 These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts.  Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.”  
No other verse describes our childhood with Tommy Howell better than this.  He not only talked of Christ, he walked with Christ. 

His virtues are so seared in our memories that his vices, few as they were, no longer exist in our memory. 

Dad was the beacon by which we oriented our lives.  He was our true North as Christ was his. 

Judy, it was Christ in him that attracted you to him.  And he to you.  We should all hope to be loved in this lifetime the way that you love Dad and he loved you. 

Also to Rod and Laurie, Dad loved you and was grateful for you. 

We all share the pain of watching such a brilliant light grow dim.  The agony of watching Dad slowly slip away; the origin of all that is best in us, that most intimate portal of humanity through which God expresses Himself to us, the meaning of life itself – to watch it slowly draw to a close.  It is painful.  It hurts. 
But Dad told me many years ago not to cry at his funeral; for he will be in a better place. 

“What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived — the things God has prepared for those who love him— “So “Don’t let you heart be troubled.  You believe in God, believe also in Me.  Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you.  In my Father’s house are many mansions.  If this were not true, I would have told you so.” 
Dad now has peace and joy - a joy that can only be known in presence of our Savior, Christ Jesus.  Dad has peace and joy for all eternity. 
What was it that CS Lewis said? - “Joy is the serious business of heaven”. 

So let us be at peace with it; and let us joyful in it. 

Dad loved children.  He would have us say to them a quote from Scottish Minister, George Macdonald: “Never tell a child, ‘you have a soul. Teach him, you are a soul; you have a body. – the body is but the temporary clothing of the soul,” 

And so, when I think of Dad, I think of his Boots.  Clothing for the feet to walk in the path of Christ. 

Lord - Direct my footsteps according to your word; let no sin rule over me. 

The most enduring memory is that of my dad in the morning, every morning.  His routine was simple: He sat at the table in the dining room, sock-footed, and he read the Bible and he prayed.  When he had finished, he closed his Bible, and put his boots on, and went to work. 

So I say to you now, honor my father.  Let us read the Word, pray the prayer.  Walk in His path.

Wear the boots. 

This is the eulogy that I delivered for my father at his funeral on Oct 1, 2018.  


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