Gary Hegi, John
1983

I have posted my remembrance of the founding of The Good Samaritan Mission in El Dorado in 1975. Brother W. O. Miller along with the financial assistance of five committed Christian men established the ministry in an economically depressed area of town, and he faithfully preached the Word of God to those who came. His motto which was printed on a sign displayed inside the Mission was, “Wanted, the Unwanted.” Brother Miller was a wonderful encourager and made it known to the men involved with the start of the mission he wanted them to have the freedom to preach at the mission anytime they felt led. I was reluctant to ask if I could preach because those men were such spiritual giants in my eyes and able to deliver a much more powerful message. I never volunteered but always waited for Brother Miller to call and invite me. He would occasionally call and ask when I would be ready to preach again, and I would usually say I could be ready within the month. I had to coordinate the date for a weekend I was not on surgical call for our clinic. After I had preached a time or two, I told Brother Miller that I had a friend, Gary Hegi who could  join me in singing some special songs and help lead the worship music, and Brother Miller said it would be a blessing to have Brother Hegi join us.

Just a word about my preaching ability. I am confident God did not call me into a preaching ministry, but I had the heart and desire to faithfully teach the Word of God. At the time I was co-teaching with Robert Wike a Sunday school class of young couples at First Baptist Church. This was wonderful training experience for me as I spent many hours each week studying the Word in preparation. I was also receiving invitations from local area churches to give my testimony and to preach for special occasions such as Baptist Men’s Day and Laymen’s Emphasis Week. I have saved most of my sermon notes from those early years and in reading some of those notes I am amazed anyone stayed awake listening to what I had to say. Perhaps they wanted to find out if I was able to finish what I started. I do take comfort in the conviction God’s Word does not return void, but will accomplish that to which He sent it! What also amazes me is most of the small churches gave me a small honorarium for my efforts! Although I am still not accomplished at preaching Cathy assures me I have improved praise the Lord!

I don’t remember how many times Gary and I sang special songs together at the Mission, but it was at least three or four times. The first time Gary served together at the Mission and I introduced him to Brother Miller he was given his nickname which has stuck with me ever since. I said, “This is Gary Hegi,” to which Brother Miller said, “You mean like the prophet (Haggai)?” I said, “Just like the Prophet!” After the initial meeting whenever Gary was joining me to sing I would tell Brother Miller The Prophet was coming also. Brother Miller never failed to say, “I can’t wait!”

Our repertoire included such songs as, “I’ll Fly Away,” “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder, “Amazing Grace,” “Fill My Cup Lord,” and “Are You Washed in the Blood?” among others. I played the guitar and sometimes also the harmonica, and Gary joined also on the guitar when I played my 5-stringed banjo. Gary had sung with several groups in the past and had a much better singing voice and had more songs committed to memory.

One of our more memorable experiences of singing for the folks at the Mission involved the piano accompanist. There was an elderly gentleman whose name I can’t remember who volunteered to play the piano for congregational singing whenever his health would permit. I had heard him on a prior occasion, and one could easily tell he played by ear and couldn’t read music. He was in his late 70’s in age, tall and slender in appearance and had lost most of his hair except the gray hair in the back and his sideburns. He wore a hairpiece which was brownish in color and didn’t match the color of his sideburns. He was neatly dressed with shirt and tie, and when he was vigorously playing and patting his feet, his long white socks were visible. His playing was similar to my preaching in what he lacked in talent and ability he made up for in desire and enthusiasm.

On this particular Sunday when Gary and I got to the Mission just before the service was to begin this gentleman said he would like to accompany us on our singing. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we would rather not, so I told him the number we were playing was “The Old Rugged Cross” in the key of G. As I began playing the guitar introduction and Gary and I began singing in harmony the first verse of this beautiful song I knew we were in serious trouble. Our accompanist was slowly playing with the proper rhythm, but not in the same key. As we struggled through the verse at the pause before the second verse I whispered to him we were in the key of G. The second verse was a repeat of his playing in a different key from us, but we again made it through the verse and I nodded to Gary to close the song. Our friend looked like he was proud of himself to have joined us, and we thanked him for it. We did tell him the second number we had practiced a certain way and would prefer not to have a piano accompaniment. It didn’t seem to offend him. Our performance was something like I have never experienced. Two instruments playing the same song in two different keys, and two hoot owls screeching to sing harmony in some unknown key. I don’t remember what my sermon was that morning, but I imagine it was about the same quality.

As we were preparing to leave the Mission at the close of the service Brother Miller in his typical fashion said, “Dr. Moore, you and the Prophet did a mighty fine job this morning and sure blessed all of us. We want you to come back any time you can!” What a Mission and what a man! We did return again and both the singing and the preaching were slowly improving!

Dr. John

Dad Young
1970’s

When Cathy and I first met and began dating we were living in Atlanta where she had her first job as a fifth grade teacher at John Clancy Elementary School. I was an intern at Grady Memorial Hospital, and we were introduced by the wife of a friend and fellow intern, Dan Moore. Marsha and Cathy were both teachers at the school. For several months I resisted a blind date despite the fact that Marsha had told me how beautiful her new friend Cathy Young was and what marvelous character she possessed. I had known Dan and Marsha for several years prior to moving to Atlanta, and it seemed she was always trying to “fix me up” with a potential wife. She told me Cathy was “different from the others” she had in mind for me. When I finally agreed and the date was set we went on a double date so the initial meeting wouldn’t be so awkward. When I met her at the door of her apartment I was stunned by her beauty, and my first thought after seeing her was why had I resisted for so long? For me it was love at first sight. Cathy was from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and I had never met anyone from that city. Our courtship began in September, 1964 and within several months we both began to believe God meant for us to join our lives in marriage.

I met her Mom in Atlanta within the first few months because she was attending a national school board meeting there, and I believe her initial impression of me was a good one. It was the following year during Spring Break I scheduled a trip to Fort Lauderdale to meet her Dad and the remainder of her family. It was then I was planning to ask him for permission to marry her.

Cathy had told me many things about her Dad, George Young. He was a building contractor and owned the oldest contracting business of that type in Fort Lauderdale. His father had started the company in 1912, and together they had built some of the most impressive and beautiful businesses and homes in Broward County. From all she had told me I felt I had a good grasp on his character and his personality long before our initial meeting. She said there were some physical similarities between her Dad and me, but our personalities were different. In his type of business he was accustomed to hard physical labor in the Florida sun. In my profession my work is always indoors and required no manual labor at all. Despite the fact he had crews of men working for him he was quiet and introverted, and I am definitely not introverted. He was tall, slender and balding and these were the few similarities we had, but otherwise I didn’t think we looked alike.

Dad Young was so quiet when I was with him early in our marriage I was sure he didn’t think very much of me. I  thought I could have a sustained conversation with anyone I spent more than a minute or two with, but not so with him. He was polite to answer any specific questions I had, but we didn’t have many common interests at this point. I knew absolutely nothing about the construction business, nor did I even know the names of many of the tools he commonly used. I was certain he didn’t know anything about the surgical tools I used each day. I discovered I was more interested in learning about his tools than he was in learning about mine. Dad’s quietness with me bothered me for a long time until I understood this was just his way whether he was with friends or family. I have posted the story of Dad driving with a friend to Atlanta years before, and after riding together for over eight hours, they each realized not one word had been exchanged!

After Cathy and I moved our family to El Dorado her Mom and Dad would visit us two or three times each year and would usually stay for five to seven days. We made the trip to Fort Lauderdale at least once each year and would have gone more often, but it was more difficult for us because of my surgical practice and the many activities of our kids.

Throughout the years of spending time with them and especially Dad, I learned at least three significant things about him and from him. First part of the reason for his quiet demeanor related to the fact as a child he had a stuttering problem, and early on it was embarrassing for him to speak at all. I never learned how he overcame the affliction, but by the time I knew him he spoke very clearly and had a masterful understanding of the English language. He often was seen searching his giant Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary which was located next to his easy chair. I never heard anyone stump him on the definition of any word. One of his favorite words was “eleemosynary.”

Secondly I never heard him say a critical word about anyone or participate in any gossip which might be taking place in his presence. I have often thought about this strong quality Dad possessed, and realize how essential it is for me and for all Christians to mirror this quality the Lord Jesus taught us to have.

Thirdly he had a wonderful sense of humor. When Jerry Clower became a popular humorist I started playing his tapes for Dad whenever we were together, and it was really fun to watch him belly laughing while listening to Jerry’s colorful stories. On one occasion we were able to go to a live performance of Jerry Clower when he appeared in El Dorado. It was just as much fun watching Dad as it was to hear Jerry’s stories.

After Dad retired from his business because of health issues he had lots of time to read and sit on the patio by their pool with his faithful dog, Maude at his side. The location was visible from the sidewalk in front of their beautiful two-story home in the Rio Vista subdivision. Friends and neighbors walking by usually saw Dad sitting there and would wave and occasionally stop for a brief conversation. It was such a relaxing spot whenever we visited this was also my favorite place to sit when he wasn’t there.

When Cathy and I were in Fort Lauderdale for the sad occasion of Dad’s funeral when he departed in 1983 I was sitting in his chair by the pool in the early morning hours on the day of his burial. An older gentleman I didn’t know was slowly walking by, and as he looked toward me I waved to him not thinking anything more than just being friendly. He did a distinct double-take in his look toward me and without waving he doubled his pace in moving away from the house. I believe he thought I was George and knowing of his recent death he must have thought he saw a vision of some type. I can only imagine what he told his wife when he got home from his walk!

In pondering the mistaken identity the neighbor had of me I have thought I would surely like to have others see in me some of the wonderful qualities Dad Young possessed. The Bible says in Ephesians 4:29, “Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.” I am grateful for Dad Young’s model to me of controlling his small but powerful muscle, the tongue. However of all the outstanding accomplishments of Dad Young by far the greatest for me was to father the most wonderful daughter in the world, my wife Catherine Reta.

Dr. John

LaNell and Bubba’s children and grandchildren
Christmas 2010

I have written about the spiritual impact that Bubba had on Cathy and me and also on our children and grandchildren. In several posts I have mentioned the names of several of Bubba and LaNell’s children, but in recent reflections on the importance of family I realize  the spiritual as well as the physical DNA in my brother’s family are also present in Cathy’s and my family. In thinking about and praying for their children I am so grateful for each one of them and how important they have been in our spiritual journey.

The first time I saw LaNell I was a 9-year-old sitting in church at First Baptist, El Dorado. Someone pointed out a college girl singing in the choir and said she was Bubba’s girlfriend. I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had seen and must surely be destined for a career as a movie star. I got to know LaNell Brillhart and every member of her family very quickly and loved being around all of them especially her Dad. He was a real character and could tell some of the funniest stories I had ever heard. His stories accentuated by LaNell’s infectious laughter would make for a fun Sunday afternoon.

Bubba and LaNell were married in December, 1950 which was Bubba’s first year in medical school in Little Rock. I loved the few times I got to spend the night in their tiny apartment on West 6th Street which very near the medical school in its’ old location near MacArthur Park. The highlight of one particular visit was learning to play the ukulele Bubba had given LaNell for a Christmas present. That ignited my desire to play  stringed instruments which continues to this day.

Their first child was born in 1954 during Bubba’s senior year and were we ever excited to welcome Lydia into the world! She was very special on several levels. First she was named for our mother, who died of advanced breast cancer when I was an infant. She was the first grandchild of the Berry Moore family, and she was my first niece. When Mom, Pop and I drove to Little Rock to see her on her second day after birth, it was discovered there was a rule at Baptist Hospital which required one had to be fourteen years old to visit the new-born nursery. Since I was only thirteen I had to remain in the lobby while Mom and Pop got to see her. LaNell felt so sorry for me she walked to the lobby to visit and thank me for coming. It was another month before I got to hold my new niece for the first time.

Upon completion of medical school, the family of three moved to Dallas where the young Dr. Moore began his internship at Parkland Memorial Hospital. I wasn’t able to visit them in Dallas because the distance from El Dorado was so great and Bubba’s work schedule was so unpredictable. I wouldn’t have been able to spend much time with him had I made the trip. Their only son Andy was born in Dallas, and I could hardly wait to see him and begin showing him how to throw and catch a football and baseball like Bubba had taught me.

Following the one year internship they moved to Mobile for Bubba’s two year stint in the Air Force as a medical officer at Brookley Air Force Base. I did get to visit them there on two occasions and had a blast playing almost non-stop with Lydia and Andy. Their next move was back home to El Dorado where Bubba began his family practice with Pop in 1957, the year I graduated from high school. It was in El Dorado their other 2 daughters, Rachel and Becky were born.

Their first home was a very small three bedroom house on Melrose Street. The Harry Wadsworth and Dr. Charles Cyphers families lived on the same street and with several other families combined there were at least fifteen children of all ages in the neighborhood. One had to be very careful trying to navigate his auto down Melrose Street, since there were always three or four children running in the street, chasing a bug, a butterfly, a fly ball or just plain running away from their parents.

I was a student in college and medical school during those Melrose years, and when I came home during school breaks Bubba and LaNell’s house was my favorite place to spend time apart from home. Christmas was always a fun time for me as well as their kids. I always went to their home at 11 or 12 P.M. on Christmas eve to help Bubba assemble the myriad of toys for their kids. We usually had to hurry because all of them, especially Andy would awaken at 3 A.M. ready for Christmas to begin. I felt sorry for Bubba, because I could go home and sleep for three or four more hours, but he was awake for the entire night and the next day. In addition to the Christmas excitement he had a medical practice to manage and was getting continuous calls from patients who had some immediate needs.

I really loved playing with all of their kids, and they always had some new and exciting toy I had never seen. I also liked being called “Uncle John,” although Bubba teased me about the title, because early in our life we had a “drinking Uncle John” (Graham) who was well-known for his alcoholic lifestyle. The title to me was one of endearment, and Bubba told me when Andy was a little boy he once said; “Dad, I’ll be glad when you grow up to be a big man like Uncle John. Maybe you can go to medical school like him!”

LaNell and Bubba taught their children the Word of God and modeled the Word to them with their lives. As each one of their kids matured it was easy to see the life of Christ in them being poured out for the sake of others. Even though their personalities are unique each one is soft-spoken, kind, loving and gentle, and they mirror many of the wonderful qualities of their Mom and Dad.

Bubba spent the last six years of his life providing total care for LaNell in their home. She had developed a progressive dementia, and despite his being physically able to continue his medical practice he retired early to lovingly make certain she could remain at home with him. Following his death in 2009, Andy took his Mom into his home, and he and his wife Ginger loved and cared for her until she joined Bubba with Jesus in 2012.

Lydia and her husband Joey Caraway live in Little Rock, and their kids who are now adults will soon be starting their own families. The Caraway’s have been faithful members of Calvary Baptist Church. Andy and Ginger have remained in El Dorado and are active members at Immanuel Baptist Church. They each have grown children from previous marriages, and their children have the same loving hearts as their parents. Rachel and her husband, David Uth live in Orlando, Florida where they are active members of First Baptist Church. David happens to be the Senior Pastor of this wonderful, Spirit-led, megachurch. Their three children are adults and each is an active witness for the Lord Jesus. Becky and her husband Tim Rogers live in Ooltewah, Tennessee just outside Chattanooga. They moved there from El Dorado several years ago along with their two daughters and are impacting the area through their witness for Christ.

In the picture above taken during their Christmas reunion at their parent’s home in 2010 all of the children were present with their spouses, but several of the grandchildren were not able to attend. Bubba and LaNell were very proud of all of them and rightly so. They all walk with God and are living testimonies to one of Bubba’s favorite verses in Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

Dr. John

Brother Mose
(Meat cleaver to his left)

Whenever our family gets together and stories of old are swapped Cathy usually requests I tell this one. In writing the story it loses some of its’ flavor without the sounds and hand gestures necessary to convey the full impact. The setting was in my childhood home almost seventy years ago.

One of my best buddies and inseparable companions during our pre-teen and teenage years was Eric Richardson. We hunted, fished, camped out, water-skied, rode in his Model A Ford, worked on my motor bike and spent the best part of every summer day together. Eric’s grandfather and father owned and operated Richardson Oil Company, and they gave Eric and me our first jobs during the summer of 1955. Our job titles would probably be general handymen. We didn’t accomplish much meaningful work but sure had a great time while getting paid the whopping sum of 50 cents per hour. I still have the first check I ever received as an employee which of course is a cancelled check.

I have written about Brother Mose who worked for our family and just how much I loved him. I believe Eric loved Brother Mose almost as much. We enjoyed all his funny stories and songs, and we loved teasing him about his snaggle-tooth of which he took no offense. When we had a little extra money we would buy a cigarette or two from Brother Mose for a nickel or a dime. That was an exorbitant price to pay because a pack of cigarettes sold for twenty-five cents, but we dare not go to the store to buy a pack. We feared the store owner might tell our parents. We knew our secret stayed with Brother Mose,  because it was profitable for him, and he didn’t want us to get into trouble.

During one brief period Pop had hired a cook and housekeeper named Ollie. I don’t know who recommended her, but she undoubtedly was very efficient and was also a pretty good cook. Ollie was slender in build, quick in her movements and short-tempered in nature especially with Brother Mose. She couldn’t seem to tolerate his slow but steady pace, and seemed to think he must either be lazy or not very bright. The songs he was always singing or humming must have added to her impression Brother Mose would try to get by with as little work as possible. If for no other reason than she didn’t like my friend Brother Mose I didn’t care much for Ollie. She usually didn’t have time to talk with me and would answer any questions I had with either a short yes or no. She was more interested in getting her work done than in having a relationship with me or with any of my friends. I suppose this was a good thing for Pop and Mom, but Ollie just wasn’t much fun to us.

One day when Eric was at our house and we were near the kitchen, we heard Ollie open the back door and with a loud voice call out to Brother Mose who was far away in the back yard, “Mose, get yo’ lazy self up here in this kitchen and sweep and mop it right now like Miz Mo’ has told you.” Mose responded in usual slow and polite manner, “Yes’um, I’ll be right there in jes’ a minute.” Eric and I couldn’t stand hearing her mean voice and seeing her attitude toward our pal. For some reason Eric said, “Ollie, did you know that Old Mose has epilepsy, and when someone yells at him and threatens him, he will have a seizure?” I picked up on his spontaneous (but untrue) story by saying, “When Mose has a seizure he doesn’t know what he is doing and turns violent by striking out at the one closest to him.” While speaking Eric spotted the meat cleaver which always hung on a rack by the kitchen sink and continued to enlarge on our concocted story. He said with a straight face, “Once when a housekeeper in this very kitchen yelled at Mose he had a seizure and grabbed this cleaver and buried it in her forehead right between her eyes! She died right where you are standing.” Ollie said she didn’t believe this story and asked, “If he killed the lady why didn’t he go to prison?” We said  Pop loved Brother Mose, and when he arrived to check the lady he testified she died of a heart attack. He signed that on the death certificate, so there was never an investigation. Ollie said, “You two boys are telling a big story that ain’t true, and I ain’t got time to listen to no more of yo’ lies.” We said she had better listen and keep a close eye on Brother Mose. The trap had been set in her mind, but we needed to let Brother Mose in on the scheme.

Eric and I made our way to the back part of our large yard where Mose was raking leaves and asked if he would like to make an easy fifty cents? “I shore would. What are you two boys up to?” We told him all he had to do was when he went into the kitchen and Ollie started fussing and complaining, he needed to grab the meat cleaver and act like he was going to use it on her. He said he could do that, so Eric and I each gave him a quarter.

Within five minutes, Brother Mose made his way to the kitchen where Ollie was working at the sink with her back to the door. As soon as Mose entered the room, Ollie began her usual tirade, “I don’t know why you took so long getting here, and you ain’t done what Miz Mo’ told you. Where you been all this time? You know what you supposed to do.” As she turned around to face Mose, he had the cleaver in his hand and according to him, all he did then was show it to her and say, “Here’s what I’m gona’ do!” Mose said her reaction was instant as she squatted down with both hands in the air as if she was about to receive the deadly blow to her forehead. She screamed, “Ohhh Lawd Jesus, hep me.” She then burst out the back door in a dead run and ran half-way up our long driveway before she stopped. When Eric and I heard the commotion and came into the kitchen Brother Mose was doubled over in laughter. He said Ollie had “run off.” Eric and I went quickly up the driveway to tell Ollie it was a big joke, and Mose would never hurt her. It was safe for her to return to the kitchen and continue working. We were afraid she was going to report us to Pop or even worse to the police.

Ollie never fussed or complained again to Brother Mose following this incident, but I don’t think she ever fully trusted him. She kept her eyes on him not knowing whether he might really have epilepsy or some other strange malady. Within a month she turned in her resignation to Pop saying she had found another job. None of us were particularly sad she was gone, and I never told Pop this story. If I had told him I think he would have had a big laugh over it especially the part about the death certificate.

Dr. John