Mark Millican: Take time with old friends

Published 12:00 pm Friday, August 11, 2023

When Richard Phillips and I met to chat about a potential book project a few months ago, we got to talking about days gone by. When he mentioned that he, Mike Robinson and the late Gentry Vaughn had been behind a rock music venue called The Warehouse in south Dalton, I was surprised because it was news to me.

Fifty years ago, I recall sitting in front of The Warehouse in John Hade’s pickup truck with him and his younger brother, Ed. The “marquee,” if you want to call one of those signs where you plug in black letters on a gaudy yellow plastic background a marquee, announced a band named Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing that night. With a moniker like that, we all agreed, they better be good or they’d be run out of town.

They were and they weren’t. After lead singer Ronnie Van Zant got the words of the song out of the way, he backed up and let Allen Collins and Gary Rossington put the hammer down with dueling guitars. Yep, all there heard “Free Bird” before it became a rock music national anthem born in the South. (Footnote: The band got their name from one of their high school teachers, Leonard Skinnard. Evidently, Mr. Skinnard ventured into real estate since one of his signs graced the back of an album.)

When I told Richard and Mike that story recently when we sat down for an interview about The Warehouse at Mike’s business, A-1 Lock and Security, they both smiled. As a mere lad, I had accompanied my mother-teacher to the old band room at North Whitfield High after school let out one day, and Mike (on guitar) and a couple of his buddies — Lamar McClure on drums and Ira “Buck” Padgett on bass — had their rock band cranked up. I even recall them playing “Love Potion No. 9.”

Ah, the good old days. The great thing about being able to put newspapers in Ellijay, Chatsworth and Dalton on my résumé is that I have friends in all these communities. Just last week, Teresa and I attended a ministry event at Salem Baptist Church north of Dalton. I was thrilled to see two old high school friends, Paul Wilson and Terry Land, not only involved in the outreach but taking leadership roles.

At a nearby church, Pleasant Grove Methodist, I recently went to a visitation to see another two old friends, sister and brother Debra and Curtis Sloan, who I grew up with and whose mother had passed. While standing in line, I read through the funeral home’s little memorial folder about Bonnie Sloan. Inside the front page, there were words handwritten in cursive. I’ll share them here:

“If we had only to rely on the courage we could muster to accomplish the work of the Lord, we would do far less than he asks of us. Some of us are quite naturally reserved — speaking out boldly goes against our grain. Some of us are timid by nature — even the thought of sharing our faith quietly with a neighbor frightens us.

“Some of us find ourselves embarrassed to express faith — especially in the presence of intellectual unbelievers. So the call is not ‘try harder.’ No, the call is to be open to the Holy Spirit to empower us for whatever God calls us to do.

“God will not call all of us to witness verbally or to preach, but he does call us to something. This call should drive us to prayer for his guidance and aid. That is the beginning of holy boldness — which comes not from within but from on high.”

Wow. Those are better thoughts than I’ve read in some published devotionals. Debra told me she found the words inside her mother’s Bible after she died, and isn’t even sure her mom wrote them. However, they seem very personal and I like to believe she did. When Debra asked Dan Peeples of Julian Peeples Funeral Home to put the words on the inside of her mother’s memorial folder, he told her he’d be glad to type them up. She asked they be copied and left in cursive instead, and he acquiesced. It was a beautiful complement.

Mrs. Sloan and her husband, Henry, were married 71 years. I spent a few moments talking to him, and he expressed his enjoyment with reading my stories about veterans. He is a vet of the Korean War era himself.

It’s ironic, I suppose, that the place we run into so many of our old friends is the funeral home. John Hade. Roger Crossen. Tony Ingle. Tom Phillips. Dale Morrison. They’re just a few in my thoughts from the North Whitfield community while penning these words. They and numerous others left us too soon, and although the good Lord knew their time had come, he didn’t tell us in advance.

After working in three counties for most of half a century now, I have a lot of “old friends” who have added to the richness and blessing of my life. Many of us have lost our parents and so heartbreakingly, children and grandchildren, too. It seems to me we need to sit down and take some time with old friends who are still around — to tell and record stories — before we’re lying supine in the funeral parlor or church to receive visitors and hear others tell tales — hopefully humorous and hopeful — about us.

Amen.