Dr. Otha Spencer Eulogy

Eulogy, Dr. Otha Spencer

June 23, 2012

Well, here we are.  To dedicate one of the greatest men many of us have ever met.  He will be always remember as an icon of Commerce, a historical legend, the kindest/sweetest man who ever walked God’s Good Earth—Dr. Otha Spencer. 

For almost 45 years, I’ve known Otha Spencer in many roles—as a child, a college student who admired Otha as an outstanding faculty member; an alumnus; a colleague; a landlord; a donor for the Foundation; a friend; a second ‘Dad’; a treasured advisor; a friend, a confidante, and fortunately, a semi-adopted-member of his family by choice.

I value him and all he taught all of us; We miss him and am thinking of Will and Gwendolyn the most this morning.

We are all better for knowing him.  He was a hero at a young age in World War II—just a kid by today’s standards. He wanted to play football but the coach told him he best get a different job. He excelled in everything professionally, and privately.  To see all he accomplished in his life, don’t you feel like a lazy bum?

I’ve been thinking about circles lately.  How so many objects, words of choice, even organizations use the term “circle”.  I think of Otha Spencer today and how incredibly he has now stands on the edge of Glory; an eternal never-ending spiral so wonderful that we as humans have no ability to comprehend the greatness of the level of Heaven. 

Today, I hope this will not be the last time we speak of Dr. Spencer—but let’s pledge to begin a revolving conversation that I hope will continue long after today.  As long as we speak of him, he will remain alive.

In my primitive view of Heaven I envision a window that our loved ones can come look out and see the good things we do—the window is closed if we are being mean or petty….but today I think of a few dozen folks who are at the window watching and listening to me—don’t you know that they would have so many side comments to say?  I’d love to hear their remarks…wait, who I am kidding? I would probably be so beat down—it is best I can’t hear the comments from above.

.

Let’s start at the beginning:

I met a nice man when I was nine years old.  We had just moved to Commerce and my family was attending something that sounded like a wrestling match.  A Hopkins County Stew.  But we were not in Hopkins County, and the stew, well, it looked more like soup….or witches’ brew cooked with an open flame and a huge cast iron pot.  I would have preferred a grilled cheese sandwich.  The cook was Bub Taylor and he and my Dad were fishing buddies—we even bought a boat from Bub Taylor and I thought his wife was so refined and elegant and she spoke to me like an adult—rather than down playing my age and baby talking to me.  I loved her for that and we remained friends for forty years.

So back to the man I met with a tractor at the Hopkins County Stew.  I was barefoot and was kind of hopping from one foot to the other since the gravel was blazing hot…I did the stand on one foot; then switched feet….and then the man asked me if I wanted to ride his tractor with him.  I thought this was a joy from Heaven—riding a tractor.  I knew he had a children in college which seemed so very elegant and old.

The nice man’s name I was told and believed for ten more years afterwards was OKRA.  I saw nothing odd about a man who worked at the University named OKRA and also understood when my folks told me to call him Dr. Spencer. I thought he was a doctor for vegetables.

What I did find odd was that he married a woman named Billie—I had never met a woman named Billie Abernathy Spencer and I never shall meet such a woman again in my life.  She laughed loudly, usually making the joke on herself. She had big fluffy dogs, taller than me, and I felt like she was a celebrity. 

The man named Okra, I mean, Dr. Spencer gave me a ride on his tractor and it was such a relief to get by barefoot off the hot gravel and onto the coolness of the wheel cover of the tractor.  He drove slowly and when we got out of that Billie woman’s sight, he moved me over so I could steer the tractor.  I was nine year old and driving large farm implements.  We were most likely breaking a long list of laws, but for the life of me, that Hopkins County Stew is what should have been under investigation.

The Spencer’s became our friends—with a circle of friends with bridge in common, but mostly they had food and gossip with a little bit of bridge.  It was people like the Roosevelt’s, the Cobles (who were our next door neighbors), Floyd and Robbie Hill; The Titus’s, The Dyes, Ann and Stuart Chilton, Virginia and Bub Taylor—as you can see some of these bridge clubs players have moved upstairs; they have graduated.

Billie and Otha along with the Art and Sara Grace Pullen opened the Country Studio and I bet everyone here has an old needlework or something framed with the address label (which was high tech back then) affixed to the back of the framed piece.  The Country Studio sold great gifts. Dried flower arrangements, colored old bottles (there is still a couple of boxes in the barn), ceramics, antiques, piece work, and well-made frames made carefully by Otha to the exact molecule of measurement; they are impossible to un-make his frames…It was always a treat to make the 2 mile drive to Maloy Road and shop for someone’s special gift at the Country Studio. I recall buying a print of Old Main from the University and years later in 1995, when Mary Spencer supervised the renovation of the President’s Home into the Heritage House, I donated the print from the Country Studio…it seemed fitting to come full circle and the theme of that continues to be part of my life with the Spencer’s.  Later we will gather at the Alumni Center which was built on the site of Deally Hall—the classroom building where Otha attended school; Billie attended Training School there and we will gather to speak of Otha—let’s not make today the last day to speak of Otha—may the circle not be broken—let’s keep speaking of him.  Use a dictionary—a real one with a pages of paper; if you see a word you don’t know or understand, don’t gloss over it…really, go look it up the old fashioned way.  When you read a book, put a post it at the front—your opinion does matter.  Otha could write the entire declaration of independence on a post it note this size. We had a joke that Linda King—who Otha and I love and have had a lifelong crush….I teased Linda King and said she could write on the side of the post it note—and so could Otha…he loved these and I still have a box of them. 

Ok. Now flash forward ten years.  The Country Studio has closed and the Spencer’s have rented me what was originally Billie’s Dad’s little cabin, then the Country Studio, then to me.  And for months, I would be in the shower or cooking in my underwear, and some strangers would just be walking through my house picking up tea cups and turning them over to see the price. They asked if my paintings were full sale. I was standing there dripping from the shower, with just a hand towel and tried to explain, nicely that the store had been closed for some times and they had just broken and entered a private residence.

But I do want to talk about circles.  As a photographer, Otha (whose name easily gives way to a conversation about Circles) looked through the circle shaped lens.  He saw the world through a circle; and we saw him back in full reality—well hidden by the camera.  There are many circles to talk about today.  So let’s get started.

Circle of Friendship

Otha knew many famous people. He rented an apartment to Jim Lehrer—from the PBS news programs—and to prove he rented ‘well’, the other tenant was ME.  Jenna Yeager would ride her horse down and see us—she flew around the world without stopping once. Bill Martin the well-known children’s artist would come over and sit almost enveloped in one of Billie;s antique chairs and speak of clever sayings and quotable quotes.  Famous folks were always coming by to see Otha…but we were always called upon demand to visit Mr. and Mrs. Staley McBrayer—he invented the offset press and had this amazing midcentury modernistic home in Fort Worth and we would go eat at the his country club. Mr. McBrayer always invited us on Sundays and it seemed like a McBrayer Law—the more important and exciting a Dallas Cowboy game was, the more likely he was to invite us to his country club and extend the conversation.  One of these times, I drove and Billie and Otha and I were on pins and needles, skipping dessert and hinting at every chance that ‘we needed to get back to Commerce’….I have never heard any many talk more than Staley McBrayer did that day…as if he started his story in second grade and told his week by week until present day—he was well into his 80’s…but he was a generous donor and kind advisor to the Foundation and we certainly don’t have regular office hours.

Anyway, in order to get back to Commerce for the 3 p.m. kickoff, I was driving so fast….and heard no complaints from the Spencer’s as they tightened their seat belts, grinned from ear to ear and we listened to KRLD pregame—they talk five hours before a four hour football game---telling us what they predict will happen.

We made great time, dashing and darting in between cars along I 30 and sailing from the exit to Campbell…..we were about 100 yards—yeah, about the length of a football field when the red white and blue lights flashed behind me…you know freedom is symbolized by red white and blue unless they are flashing lights behind your car.

The officer slowly, I mean slowly, walked up to my car and I sheepishly looked at the clock, ticking closer and closer to 3 p.m.—why did we think the kickoff was the deciding factor in this playoff game?

He asked me if I knew why I was pulled over…Now, why do they ask that question?  I mean, if they really don’t know, then I sure don’t want to tell them what I was doing wrong…He said he clocked me about 85 miles per hour—I told him our houses were in sight—thinking he might put two and two together and think we needed to number one.  But, he was slick.

He asked if I followed football.  I turned to Otha and he had his head lowered, twiddling his thumbs, and his shoulders hopping up and down..did you notice when he laughed his shoulders hopped up and down.  I glanced back at Billie and she was grinning like a Cheshire cat and had pulled a Kleenex to wipe the laughter tears…that woman always had a Kleenex somewhere.   It was evident that I was to walk the plank alone—no help from them. 

The officer said that was a dangerous speed just to make it home in time to see a football playoff game begin…I looked again at Otha holding back laughing out loud and Billie snickering like a little 7 year old…so I said, “Well, officer, I am taking my very elderly neighbors home and they both have emergencies of personal nature…”  That did it; they exploded in laughter and I was smug in getting even…the officer laughed, said he enjoyed Otha’s column and he sure hoped the Cowboys would go all the way to the Super Bowl…it was a moment we called a ‘graveyard moment’—we would NOT tell Mary or Johnny or the grand children—this graveyard talk would be taken to grave with us.  But, whenever a Cowboy game was on, Otha would say, I guess your elderly neighbors best take care of our personal business prior to the kickoff today. 

Circle of good deeds: Always have a project in mind…Otha did and I swear it was better than any medication—he had goals—writing books, he was adamant in getting me named Distinguished Alumnus of A&M-Commerce and God Love Him, he nominated me about 10 times and I have let him down and it is my major regret and shame in my life.

The circle of life will continue with Emi Elyse Spencer, just a few weeks old—and I bet she will laugh loudly and be interested in research, to find the answers, to be good to people, to praise them in public, and if necessary, to constructively give advice in private.  We often hear that as one family member leaves this Earth, a new life joins us.

When he would tell about someone, the worst he would say would be ‘Well, things didn’t go her way for a while,” or “He had a tough row to hoe but he made it finally.”  That could have meant that they were bank robbers and drug traffickers but the worst he would say, “Well, they just didn’t fare well there for a while.”

I think of Otha and his circle of friends.  If you talked to Otha long enough, you could determine a common friend, and he would know their parents, where they lived before their current house and the name of their dog ten years ago. His mind thought in terms of spherical relationships…and some crossed over created subsets but all were in the fascinating mind of Otha Spencer.  If he couldn’t recall the name, he would leave the room, go get a resource book, sometimes an actual book called a dictionary or even one called a thesaurus and I suggest you Google or Bing them later to find out about them.  He loved research—on topics, on people on places, on buildings, and processes.  I remember buying a Miata and it was a trial test car---only 6 would be released and the ten months later, a larger rollout would occur. I had to report some findings and comments and kind of half way did enough to satisfy the surveyors.  But, now, Otha Spencer did not stop with just filling in the questionnaire…he researched, went to the University Library, and came away with details about my car that I had no idea.  That it was the most easy to handle, quickest reaction car ever made; the technology was years before its time…..all great information….the bad part? It was too small to fit golf clubs and more than two bags of groceries.

Circle of Good Deeds

So many of our journeys in life have us end up where we started and that was the place we belonged all along.  And a circle is completed today in this sanctuary.  Otha was a member of this church for more than 60 years—teaching the Dough Rollins Sunday School Class.

As a 15 year employee of the University, I knew Otha as a colleague at the University—we served on so many committees and Otha’s committee reports were also so much more detailed and interesting and more detailed researched than any of the rest of us.  He was our historian and mentor and advisor.  And he loved conversations that began with, “Otha, I need your advice.”  The operative word was that if you wanted something done right, get Otha to chair the committee.

I knew him as a retiree and he seemed busier in retirement than ever before; I knew him as my landlord and he actually hauled off our trash in a little black trailer—100 degree temperatures—and here was this man with a doctorate from Columbia and guess we all have to be trash men at some points of our lives.

Mary and Johnnie asked him, why he decided to move back to Commerce.  With a doctorate in journalism from Columbia, he could go anywhere in the world. He reminded them he briefly took a job in Chicago and the snow was black….he knew he would move back to the town he loved.  And the circle is completed as we let him rest here; and are all witnesses to those of us who loved him so much.

Otha was one of the last intellectuals—he never mentioned The Greatest Generation—I think that was kind of a given.  He was tender hearted.  There was a summer about ten years ago and it did not rain from something like April until September…it was hot and brittle and this black double bubble gum dirt turned to hard as rock land.  Every day, when I would come home from work, Billie stood in the heat with a garden hose water a little patch of ground….nothing growing on it to speak of.  The next day, same thing, the next day same thing….She would smile and wave and always ask, “What do you know?” or “What do you know good?”  Or “What will you allow?”  I loved that but I truly thought Billie was slipping and I found Otha in his workshop…I asked Otha, something is wrong with Billie…he asked what do you mean….I said well for more than a week I come home and Billie is running water on this little patch of land in the woods and there isn’t really anything to water—she just waves and smiles…do you think the heat has made her a little silly….Otha always laughed before he told the joke—did you recall this—he would laugh, then simmer down, then he allowed this: Larry, our dog Jennifer hasn’t been feeling well lately and we think she might die in her sleep—so in order to have soft ground to bury the dog, Billie keeps that piece of property moist no matter what.

I loved the way Otha named his animals. The dog picked up alongside the highway was part of the state’s highway beautification program and he called her “Lady Bird”…if you get that, you are revealing age but let’s celebrate age today!

A cat who showed up in the barn was named Momma Cat—even 8 years after her surgery, Otha called her  Momma cat…and there was Sammy—I think for Sam Walker and Barney and I never figured that one out….oh, wait, Barney was a BARN cat…I just now got it…well played Dr. Spencer, well played.

Jennifer the dog hated storms and she literally came over to my house and tore off two doors to get inside.  Otha had tranquilizers for the dogs and I think they were gone on a trip and after two doors got ripped off—I took one of the dog’s tranquilizers and we all got under the quilts and I don’t know that I have ever slept better.

Sundays at 5 o’clock, Virginia Taylor and Mrs. Shepherd would come flying down the driveway and honking her horn…it was my signal that  we were convening for single malt scotch and talks about books and theology and theories of life and poke salad and black eyed peas and digging potatoes and Plato and Rembrandt then Tom Landry and then the Bois d’Arc Bash….Otha was a fine host and generous with beverages and gosh we had a wide spread of intellectual talk to a conversations you might hear on Hee Haw…I loved that….Country Common Sense has never been Common; and Intellectual Study should never be out of touch with the common folks. I miss them so much; they were my Jesus in skin.  My granny always said when you met someone very nice, they were most likely Jesus in disguise—Jesus appearing in skin…I have met so many good people who are Jesus in skin; many sit before me today…

Circle of Life I have to repeat this: Otha is standing on the edge of glory.  Something so lovely, so marvelous, so awesome—that we as humans do not have the capacity of understanding….it is awesome—and that word should be reserved for Heaven—cheeseburgers are not awesome; LeBron James is not awesome, but let me tell you; the home our Lord has prepared for us is awesome and He loves us; He loved Otha.  Otha knew his Bible so well, but he didn’t hit you over the head with scripture—he knew the history and the little footnotes at the bottom of the teaching Bibles…He said the sweetest prayers,  always telling God that he appreciate Billie—for sending her to his life. 

Life moves quickly. Its stages move from one into another without you even realizing it. Circle of life Photography captures your precious moments in time and creates a visual landscape that you may keep as a family treasure.

Love your circle of friends.

Expand your circle of good deeds.

Enjoy the fast moving circle of life.