Mr. Dick Cheatham passed away Wednesday at the age of 80. I met his son Richard in the first grade at Roscoe Wilson and we grew to be best friends. Richard is the fourth of five children born to Dick and his wife Joyce. They lived on 25th Street, just two doors from Roscoe Wilson, and all through elementary school, I spent as much time at their house as I did at my own. Once we matriculated to Hutchinson Jr. Hi, where I lived two houses away, Richard reciprocated at our house. Mr. Cheatham served in the Army in WWII and Korea and taught at Texas Tech for some time. That is not what I remembered about him.
Dick was an artist. That's all I ever knew to call him. His house was a strange and magical place, filled with artistic objects of all types. Dick worked with watercolor, oil, wood and bronze. He had a kiln in the back yard, guarded by his yellow lab Gunny, and on a lucky day, you would catch him casting sculpture. When he wasn't creating works of art in paint and bronze, he was creating them with feathers and string, as he tied some of the most fantastic fishing flys you had ever seen. I remember him coming to my house once to teach watercolor to a bunch of snot nosed Cub Scouts. He told us..."If you can feel, you can be an artist." Sadly, my sense of feeling must have been buried at birth, as I never developed any artistic abilities of my own. Dick gave me a watercolor for High School graduation and he drew a personal cartoon for my graduation from A&M. Both are proudly displayed in my office. I also have one of his watercolors, a wedding gift, in my living room.
Mr. Cheatham died Wednesday in that same house on 25th Street, after a long battle with Parkinson's. His funeral was yesterday, and was attended by so many people, they had to set up chairs in the entryway. The tables at the reception were adorned with dozens of carved wooden birds. Birds Dick had carved over the years. At one point, Mrs. Cheatham asked for everyone's attention. She announced that we were all welcome to take any of the birds we liked. She then pointed out two huge boxes in the back of the room, filled with even more birds. It was an unbelievable selection.
I selected a couple that struck my eye, made my way to give Mrs. Cheatham a hug and wish her the best. I then turned to find Richard, one of my oldest friends. Now, I am not one who cares much for the "man hug". But, in this case, it seemed appropriate. Afterwards, we stepped back, and he made some comment about my bald head, and I reminded him even without hair, I was still smarter and better looking than him. That seemed to get us back on the right footing.
Farewell, Mr. Cheatham. Scratch old Gunny behind the ears for me.
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12 comments:
This is a truly lovely post, Batman.
Hmmm. I knew them. Not well, more like I knew who they were and knew people who knew them. I am certain my cousin knew them. He is an artist. It makes me sad. I knew "of" their house, though I never entered, as far as I recall. It makes me sad.
On a lighter note... I didn't know we lived so close growing up. That was my old stompin' ground, from middle school on. I bet if we sat down and visited, we could come up with people we both know. I wonder how Mr. Grimes and Mrs. Usher are... or did you have Mrs. Spencer?
"...'If you can feel, you can be an artist.' Sadly, my sense of feeling must have been buried at birth, as I never developed any artistic abilities of my own."
Anyone who has ever seen something that you have crafted out of wood or watched you with pencils and protractor in hand working on a roadway design, would heartily disagree with your above assertion.
On the drive to work this morning, I was thinking about how last week, once again, we found ourselves walking down parallel paths. We both had close friends who lost their fathers, and we both attended their fathers' funerals on the same day.
Sometimes the way our lives mirror/intersect each other weirds me out -- especially since it seems to happen so often. Or maybe I am just more aware of it where you're concerned.
Huh...cosmic indeed.
I still run into Mr. Grimes from time to time. He served on the school board for many years. He always makes a comment about how he never thought I would be a succesful as I am, given my tenure at Hutch. Funny guy!
That's Mr. Grimes. My teacher decided I was "bored" in math, and bumped me to the next class level. After a day in that class, I decided I was still bored. I had my mother write me a letter putting me into algebra. Mr. Grimes response, "I'll do it, but when you fail, and you will fail, don't come crying to me.
Thank God for Mr. Bebernis. I made a B. I wish I could Mr. Bebernis in person.
Forgot to close the quotes... forgot an apostrophe... I don't feel well, so screw it.
He was Coach Bebernis to me. He had the misfortune of coaching 7th Grade football. One day in practice, he was working with the offense, and was playing quarterback.
He turned to the sidelines, and yelled at me,"Warren, come in for whatever position you want!" He did not have faith that I could play any position, he just didn't give a damn which one I went into. I guess he was tired of watching me screw around on the sidelines.
So, I trotted onto the field, and declared, "Okay Coach, I'm in for you. Hit the sidelines." Many,many laps later, I was allowed to head to the showers.
Heh heh heh. You were an ass even then.
Knowing Mr. (Coach) Bebernis, he could take Billyfish in contest.
Mr. Bebernis was one of those classic goofy looking "math" teachers who would get distracted by the quirkiest little things. But hidden behind that nerdy (and I do mean NERDY) exterior, was a lot of strength.
He was also a rather compassionate teacher. He never gave up on me. He was always encouraging. He always had time.
I love what you wrote about Dick, he was a great artist, your memories are special ones. He is my uncle-in-law and I appreciate the kind words!
Thanks for saying such kind words about my uncle. His widow is my god mother and aunt. I will miss him dearly. I was on my way to visit him one last time and got the call one week early. I had to change my plan info to get to the funeral. WOW, what a day. So many people came. I was not aware that so many people loved my uncle as much as I did. I also was able to get a few of his birds and I proudly display them for all to see. I will cherish them forever. Goodbye Uncle Dick. Say hello to Gunny for me too!!!
I am glad the family members enjoyed the piece. It is comforting to know Mr. Cheatham will live on through his body of work.
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