Mark Millican: An ode to AC: ‘You know what to do’

Published 2:00 pm Monday, September 18, 2023

Hank Crow remembers when his father Austin took him fishing as a young boy to the late David White’s property in Cohutta.

“We could fish anytime,” Hank said of the lake at his father’s friend’s property. “We would always bring crickets and worms and just fish and spend time together.”

Came the day, however, when a lunker made the fishing a bit panicky for a kid.

“I remember screaming for his help when I hooked into a monster carp using a night crawler,” said Hank. “He just laughed and said, ‘You got it — you know what to do.’”

Austin Crow took his last breath in the early morning hours of Sept. 6, just five days before the second anniversary of his marriage to his sweet wife Jan. She was with him in his final moments before the EMTs arrived.

As the news spread later that Wednesday, we were all in shock and disbelief. A heart attack had taken a husband, father, grandfather, stepfather and our unparalleled friend. I was fortunate to be among a handful of people who traveled to Pell City, Alabama, last week for his memorial service; many of us knew Austin for most of our lives. They came from the communities of Dawnville, Pleasant Grove, North Whitfield and even Dalton High School. and then there were many new friends he’d made since moving to Alabama.

It was a distinct honor to be able to eulogize my old friend. Hank asked everyone to dress in the red-and-black of the Georgia Bulldogs, which was his father’s favorite team — even in the midst of Crimson Tide territory. One of the humorous asides about Austin and Jan were that they each pulled passionately for their respective college football teams. Never one to gloat, Austin simply texted his crestfallen Crimson Tide fiancé across state lines after the Dawgs’ beat Bama for the National Championship: “I am a happy man.”

In a day and time when many of us were coming of age in an atmosphere of partying in the 1960s and ‘70s, Austin was keeping his head about him. Many times at parties he sidled up to me and just said, “We need to go someplace else.” I knew he’d been paying attention to our surroundings and his conscience and discernment were talking to him. Thank God I listened, and I’m probably still around today because I did.

That’s because Austin was soft-spoken around a crowd of people and the opposite of verbose. Therefore when he spoke, people listened. He seemed to have an inner compass of wisdom and integrity, and his word was his bond. AC, as he came to be known, got involved with the Patriot Guard Riders a few years ago, the American Legion motorcyclists who escort veterans’ funeral convoys to their final resting place. He told me once it was the most honorable thing he’d ever done. Girls liked him because they could sense he had a sweet heart under his rugged character. Austin lost his dad when he was 9 years old, and seemed to have compassion for those who’d also suffered loss.

At the tribute table in the funeral home sat a special memento I delivered to him — it was Vince Dooley’s autograph wishing the best to Austin. When I met Coach Dooley around 20 years ago and asked for his signature, I told him to make it out to one of my best friends and a Georgia Dawg lover above all others. Also on the table was a certificate of appreciation to Austin from Bass Pro Shops (he was working in the fishing department of the vast outdoors store, of course) noting his excellence in serving customers. They put up an in-store display table in honor and memory of him after his passing.

Our old friend Ted Williams, also present last week at the funeral chapel, allowed me to share his tribute to brothers Hank and Zane: “I spent many days with your dad sitting in a bass boat, from when we were teenagers at West Point Lake through here at Lake Weiss just a few weeks ago. We always talked nonstop about everything under the sun. He’s in heaven now, but his legacy will always be with us. He was one in a million.”

A couple of weeks ago I was scanning through some movie selections trying to find something decent to watch. Teresa asked me to go back to one that caught her eye: “Sparks: The Ken Sparks Story.” “I believe he coached at Carson-Newman,” she said of her alma mater. Sure enough, he did and we watched it. If you like football, you’ll love this documentary that was just released last year.

Coach Sparks made an eye-opening remark near the end of the film: “We all get to die.” That may be fearful to some, but what a profound look at a true statement. In his life, they knew it was coming. With Austin, we had no forewarning. Yet that’s often how it works — God knows when our time on Earth is over, but often he doesn’t let family and friends in on it. So our loss can be sudden, and grievous. With Austin Crow, who showed forth the fruits of the spirit in his interactions with people he didn’t even know, his death brought together old friends and schoolmates who hadn’t seen each other in decades, and will possibly open up doors for ministry.

And oh yeah, about that big fish.

“Thinking about my Dad, I never thought about the day where I couldn’t call him and ask for his advice or just run something by him,” Hank reflected. “But he was right — I know what to do. It’s gonna be tough, but I know what to do … also, I caught that 11-pound carp all by myself.”

Austin’s words ring out to all of us: “You know what to do.”

Mark Millican is a former staff writer for the Dalton Daily Citizen.