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Reveren’ Carlton Whitney was the pastor of our church, and someone I looked up to as a child. Six foot six, with piercing eyes, a booming voice, and yet…his disposition, thankfully - was mild. The very oldest incident that I can recollect - in which I felt the power this man had - Guides me to this very day…and actually makes me wish that someone more like him had been my dad. He caught me skippin’ school one day by burstin’ in to “Bernie’s,” where me an’ old man Moss was shootin’ pool. He moved across the floor to where I stood with cue in hand, and calmly asked me…“Why aren’t you in school?” Really stunned to see him in a raunchy place like Bernie’s, I knew he must have swallowed half his pride, But even though I liked him…and I knew he’d only come to help me if he somehow could…I lied! Half a dozen years from bein’ old enough to be there…(see - Bernie didn’t care how old folks was)… An’ full aware I didn’t really have a leg to stand on…I done what almost every youngster does Pretty close to every time he winds up caught red handed. I exercised a skill, which, as a youth, Saved my butt I’ll bet at least a dozen times a month -- I sort-a -- kind-a – slightly stretched the truth! “Mrs. Pritchard sent me home,” I fibbed, “‘bout nine o’clock, fer fightin’ with a kid that I don’t like. I only came to “Bernie’s Bar” to try an’ win some money to make another payment on my bike.” Well, big ol’ reveren’ Whitney wasn’t bitin’ like my ma would…and bein’ easily twice as smart as Pa… He laid his big ol’ hand upon my shoulder…stared me down…and with the kindest eyes I ever saw… Told me, “Ezra Bingham…you ain’t old enough to be here, an’ I know you ain’t fool enough to boot. All you’re gonna ‘win’ is trouble…hangin’ out in pool halls…course, Bernie, we all know, don’t give a hoot. “But I come in here special, ‘cause I seen ya’ through the window, and you an’ me is leavin’ Bernie’s - now!” He walked me home, and never said a word to Ma an’ Pa, but, ‘fore he left, he actually made me vow To never tell another lie…and from that very day, I’ve not so much as stretched the truth at all. Carlton turned my life around, and saved my soul that mornin'…and here’s a few more “savin’s” I recall: ‘Member Leonard Duffy’s cabin - out on Shelby Road - come close to burnin’ down ten years ago? Well…Carlton run to help him…‘spite he’d never been to preachin’, and weren’t the kind o’ man that’s nice to know… An’after sayin’ a prayer fer rain - despite the skies were clear - it poured like hell…which helped to douse the fire! An’ if I told you Leonard…from that very day ‘til now…has missed a sermon since…I’d be a liar! An’ then there’s Dexter Pinkerton, who’d missed a couple payments, and banker Bell had jumped ‘im ‘bout his note, So Carlton sent around a special plate to help young Dexter catch up on his debt with that old goat! An’ then there was the time when widow Horton broke her hip, an’ had no hired hand to man the plough. Carlton done the plantin’ for her -- didn’t charge her nothin’ -- an’ also fetched her eggs an’ milked her cow! Funny how one man can touch as many lives as he has - and turn them for the better every time - Yet never once - the way I’ve heard it, did that kind old preacher - give less than he could…or take a dime. So me an’ Dexter - we done told a bunch o’ long-time town folk to meet us at the diner Friday night. (Funny thing is - Dexter is the one I claimed the teacher’d sent me home for whoopin’ - in a fight!) Truth is, we been best o’ friends since we was little kids, an’ both of us have Carlton’s help to thank. Me…for how he made me vow to never lie again…and Dexter - for that payment to the bank! Everyone we called showed up, plus everyone they called. The crowd was huge...it actually filled the square! For more than sixty years this man had done the best he could to prove to folks how much a man can care. Standing on the stage where - now and then - our band would play, I raised my hands to quiet down the crowd, And when the noise had tapered off to where I knew they’d hear me, I glanced around and hollered good and loud, “Me an’ Dexter called you here to ask for your opinions on raisin’ funds to have somebody cast A statue of the reveren’. It could be a little pricey, but we was thinkin’…somethin’ that would last “Ought to be erected in the center of the square, to honor Carlton…for the man he was… An’ nothin’ else I know of can commemorate a person better than a big, ol’ statue does. “We was thinkin’ maybe we could pass around a hat so anyone who feels like pitchin’ in Can sort o’ - pay the reveren’ back - by helpin’ foot the bill…an’ as for me… I’m pitchin’ in a ten! Wasn’t twenty minutes later, thirty hats come in…an’ each o’ ‘em was packed with checks and bills. “Thank ya’, folks,” I proudly shouted…“this ‘ll surely build a monument of bronze - with all the frills. “We’ll dress him in his preachin’ clothes, an’ make him ten feet tall, an’ right there - in the center’s - where he’ll stand. One hand reaching out to help…his other arm up high, with, naturally…a bible in that hand. We’ll whip up somethin’ special for the plaque, ‘cause, sure enough…there’ll never be a man like him again. We need to let the whole world know that reverend Carlton Whitney was Paxton county’s most important man.” And that, young man’s, the story that I promised you I’d tell ya’ explaining why that statue’s in the square. And, son…it really warms my heart to know so many people helped to raise the funds to put him there! PS: I've now got 4 new Audio-CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied pieces) available. They’re on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - or available by contacting me at -- mark@writerofbooks.com -- should those of you who enjoy listening to poems care to be so entertained. (We use safe and simple - PayPal) Cheers, Mark
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