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Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Joe Kimball ('River Joe') - a Memorial Service Tribute

Joe Kimble died in his sleep, they say, sometime during the morning of Friday, Sept. 20, 2013. His companion, Janet, reportedly left him sleeping that morning. When she returned from an errand, she found him dead. He had no known major health problems.

On Tuesday, September 24, 2013, I met Dale of Ellerbe NC and Allen of Vass NC at the Food Lion grocery store in Carthage NC. We met to ride with Dale to a 4:00 p.m. memorial service planned for Joe Kimball at Joe’s home in  Robbins NC. His property is located in High Falls but has a Robbins address.  
Dale, 49, had been Joe’s and my boss at Gulistan Carpet in Aberdeen NC. Dale’s job ended on the last workday in June 2013. He hadn’t found a new job as of Sept. 24.
My office sat next door to Joe’s for 24 years. I hired on at Gulistan in late April 1989 and worked until the day they let me go, Jan. 11, 2013. I felt blessed to be nearing age 66. Many of the about 400 other people affected by the Gulistan bankruptcy would need jobs.
Allen, 57, worked across the company parking lot in Gulistan’s quality control department located in Gulistan’s main manufacturing plant in Aberdeen. He was let go before Dale was and hadn’t found a new job as of Sept. 24.
We three attended separately the Fry-Pickett “wake” for Joe on Sunday in Carthage. There, we walked by a long line of family members to the casket where Joe’s body lay. His body was cremated, as I understand, before the memorial service took place.

The Fry-Pickett Funeral Home of Carthage, N.C., listed this information:
Joseph Kimball (August 06, 1951 - September 20, 2013): Joseph “River Joe” Johnston Kimball, Jr., age 62, of 456 Welch Road, High Falls died Friday, September 20, 2013 at his home.
A memorial service is planned for 4:00 PM on Tuesday September 24, 2013 at the residence of 456 Welch Road, Robbins, NC.

Here is Joe’s obituary as it appeared in The Pilot newspaper, Southern Pines, N.C.:
Joseph “River Joe” Johnston Kimball Jr., 62, of High Falls, died Friday, Sept. 20, 2013, at his home.
A native of Garfield, Ga., Joe was the son of the late Joseph Johnston and Helen Horner Kimball. He graduated from West End High School in 1969, and Sandhills Community College in 1971. After a long career as a designer and stylist for Gullistan, he retired in July of this year. [Acutually he was let go in February of this year.]
He is survived by his sons, Joseph Johnston Kimball III and wife, Deanna Martin Kimball, and Joshua Thomas Kimball, all of West End; companion of 21 years, Janet Cox Chriscoe; brothers, Jessie Kimball and wife, Janet, of Fayetteville, Dan Kimball and wife, Melba, of Louisburg, N.C.; sisters, Frances Graham and husband, Jerry, of Murdocksville, N.C.; Patricia Rush and husband, Greg, of West End; grandchildren, Kaylie Kimball, Brooke Kimball and Hailey Scott.
The family will receive friends from 6 to 8 p.m. (today) Sunday, Sept. 22, at Fry and Prickett Funeral Home, in Carthage.In lieu of flowers, the family would appreciate contributions to cover funeral expenses.Online condolences may be made at www.Pines Funerals.com.



Joe’s house, 2009 01 20 in snow

Dale drove us out into the country away from Carthage on “the new road” toward High Falls (not far from Siler City). He turned left into Joe’s driveway, and we rode a long way on a gray-gravel drive, down to where Joe’s rustic house stands. I had never visited Joe at his home.
Six rounded, smoothed, natural tree trunks make up the pillars on Joe’s old-time, low front porch. The porch extends across the front of the house. His tin-roofed house, built within the last 15-20 years stands on 50-plus acres. He lived in an old house on his land while he built a new house. His property runs down to Deep River. Joe loved spending time along the river and seemed proud that his land lay along that waterway. He liked the nickname “River Joe.”
 

Joe’s river (Deep River) is icy during snow in Dec. 2010. Pepper the dog stands to the right.

We passed a deer stand Joe had placed near his driveway. His granddaughter, Kaylie, last fall harvested her first deer there with Joe. Joe showed us at work the photo of the two of them posing with that downed deer.
Joe’s house has plenty of big, old hardwood trees around it. The driveway circles a huge oak tree standing in front of the house. Joe kept guineas and sold their young. “Pepper,” his little black and white “Mountain Feist Squirrel Dog” walked around the yard at times during the memorial service.
A huge service-station-sized American flag was strung by a wire from the top of the house roof to the top of an oak tree near the right edge of the house.
Some folding chairs stood in front of the porch for the memorial service, and a sound system and speaker’s stand stood on the porch, alongside an electric guitar and an amp. Joe’s family sat mostly on the front row of folding chairs. Dale, Allen and I brought our own folding chairs and sat down several rows from the front row. People were dressed informally. Some wore T-shirts and ball hats.

The Service
“It’s a beautiful day out here with 100 of his friends,” said Greg Rush, a tall thin man who opened the service by speaking into a standing microphone. Rush works at Ingersoll-Rand in Southern Pines NC. He said Joe was in heaven, looking down.
“Joe would love this,” Rush said.”
Perhaps more than 100 people were gathered under the trees.

Joe and his dog, “Pepper.” 


Joe Kimball shown in a photo taken a few years ago.  

“Joe loved animals,” Rush said. “Joe’s dream was to be out here in these woods . . . [with] everything God put out here. He loved people. He said that when he retired, he was going to stay out here in the woods and never leave. But he wasn’t going to be by himself. He’d given an open invitation to people to come out.”
Rush said that as people grow older, they more appreciate people and family.
“That’s a gift – to make people to feel at home,” Rush said. “We’d come over for Thanksgiving. There might be 25 or 45 people at Thanksgiving [at Joe’s house]; you never knew. That man could cook some food. We always had plenty. I had the opportunity to meet some great people through Joe.”
Rush said he thought of “the Golden Rule” when he thought of Joe.
“He was good to all of us,” Rush said. “He touched us all.”
Dana Blakely stood at the speaker’s microphone and sang “Amazing Grace,” accompanied by Danny Coleman on electric guitar.
Blakely’s clear voice offered these words: “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see. . . . And grace shall lead me home.”
Danny Coleman, a graying, tall (maybe 6 feet, 8 inches) wide-shouldered, heavyset man with a baritone voice and glasses sat and strummed his electric guitar as he sang into a lowered microphone. He sometimes plays with “The Midnight Run Band.” He sat a few feet away from Blakely as he sang “Through the Windows of My Soul,” which contains these words:
“(Verse 1) Held a prisoner by my sins, a battle raging deep within / Searching everywhere to find, no peace and comfort for the mind, / But when everything had failed, to calm the tempest that did roll, / Jehovah God did prevail, and brought deliverance to my soul.
(Chorus) “Though storms are raging all around, I know I stand on solid ground, / He was so rejected and abused, that cornerstone hasn't moved. / I've got a right to rejoice, you see I know Him, He's my Lord, / He's walking to and fro, through the windows of my soul.
“(Verse 2) Through these windows you will see, there's sweet assurance for my needs. / If you look closer you will find, sweet peace and comfort for my mind. / You see, I'm bound for heaven, and not hell, amazing grace has prevailed, / And right now He's walking to and fro, through the windows of my soul.”
The crowd listened reverently. The afternoon temperature seemed perfect – just a hint of autumn. The sun shone, and people sat, reflecting. 
Blakely sang “Go Rest High on that Mountain,” a song written by Vince Gill.
Here are some of the words to that song:
“I know your life on earth was troubled / And only you could know the pain / You weren't afraid to face the Devil / You were no stranger to the rain. (Chorus) Go rest high on that mountain / Son your work on earth is done / Go to Heaven a shoutin' / Love for the Father and the Son.
“Oh, how we cried the day you left us / We gathered round your grave to grieve / Wish I could see the angels' faces / When they hear your sweet voice sing.”
Danny Coleman prayed that those people who would miss Joe, especially Joey, Josh and Janet, in the coming days would be blessed.
“It’s coming for all of us,” Coleman said, closing his prayer. “In the precious and sweet holy name of Jesus, we ask these things. Amen.”

Marshall Caddell Speaks
Marshall Caddell of West End spoke. He works with Fry-Pickett Funeral Home as a monument representative.
“A man preaches his funeral while he lives,” Caddell said.
He referred to the song “Turn, Turn, Turn.”
"Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is a Season)" is a song written by Pete Seeger in the late 1950s. The lyrics were adapted from verses written by King Solomon in the Book of Ecclesiastes and set to music and recorded in 1962, according to Wikipedia. The folk-rock song became a hit in late 1965 when sung by The Byrds, an American rock group.
Caddell read from Ecclesiastes, chapter three:
Here are the words of Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 (KJV):
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
“A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
“A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
“A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
“A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
“A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
“A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
“What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?
“I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.
“He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.”
Cylinder pieces of a wind chimes ornament hanging from the front porch boxing touched together softly as Caddell read from Ecclesiastes.
He read John 16:33: “These things have I spoken unto you, that in me ye may have peace. In the world ye have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”
“Joe don’t want to come back, if he could,” Caddell said. “I told Janet [that] I sell monuments. The first date and the last date is not important. It’s that little dash in between.”
 
‘Chiseled in Stone’
Danny Coleman sang “Chiseled in Stone,”
a song written by Vern Gosdin and Max Duane Barnes. 
As Coleman sang, I thought about how much Joe liked
to hear Vern Gosdin sing. Several years ago, Joe told me 
that Gosdin was his favorite singer. 
Here are the words to “Chiseled in Stone” 
(as recorded by the late Vern Gosdin): 
 
You ran crying to the bedroom 
I ran off to the bar 
Another piece of heaven gone to hell 
The words we spoke in anger just
tore my world apart 
And I sat there feeling sorry for myself.
Then that old man sat down beside me 
And looked me in the eye
 And said son I know what you're going through
You ought to get down on your knees
And thank your lucky stars that you got someone to go home to.
You don't know about lonely 
Or how long nights can be 
Till you lived through the story
That's still living in me
And you don't know about sadness
Till you faced life alone 
You don't know about lonely
Till it's chiseled in stone.
“So I brought these pretty flowers
Hoping you would understand
Sometimes a man is such a fool 
Those golden words of wisdom 
From the heart of that old man
Showed me I ain't nothing without you.
You don't know about lonely . . . Till it's chiseled in stone.” 
 
I heard people in the crowd choking back sobs during that song. 

 The Old Rugged Cross 
Dana Blakely sang “The Old Rugged Cross.” That song’s words and music were written in 1913 by George Bernnard. Here are some of  the words to that song:
“On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, / The emblem of suffering and shame; / And I love that old cross where the dearest and best / For a world of lost sinners was slain.
Refrain: “So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, / Till my trophies at last I lay down; / I will cling to the old rugged cross, / And exchange it some day for a crown. . . .
“In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine, / A wondrous beauty I see, / For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died, / To pardon and sanctify me.
“To the old rugged cross I will ever be true; / Its shame and reproach gladly bear; / Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away, / Where His glory forever I’ll share.
Coleman sang “The Anchor Holds,” a song with words and music by Lawrence Chewning and Ray Boltz. Here are some of the words to that song:
“I have journeyed / Through the long, dark night / Out on the open sea / By faith alone / Sight unknown / And yet His eyes were watching me.
Chorus: “The anchor holds / Though the ship is battered / The anchor holds / Though the sails are torn / I have fallen on my knees / As I faced the raging seas / The anchor holds / In spite of the storm.
“I’ve had visions / I’ve had dreams / I’ve even held them in my hand / But I never knew / They would slip right through / Like they were only grains of sand.
“I have been young / But I am older now / And there has been beauty / That these eyes have seen / But it was in the night / Through the storms of my life / Oh, that's where God proved His love to me.”
Dana Blakely sang “Daddy’s Hands,” a song written and recorded by country music artist Holly Dunn. Here are some words to that song:
“I remember Daddy's hands, folded silently in prayer / And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare / You could read quite a story, in the calluses and lines / Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy's hands, how they held my Mama tight / And patted my back, for something done right / There are things that I've forgotten, that I loved about the man / But I'll always remember the love in Daddy's hands.
Chorus: “Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin' / Daddy's hands, were hard as steel when I'd done wrong / Daddy's hands, weren't always gentle / But I've come to understand / There was always love in Daddy's hands.
“I remember Daddy’s hands, working 'til they bled / Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed / If I could do things over, I'd live my life again / And never take for granted the love in Daddy's hands.

Joe at Gulistan
I thought about Joe’s work at Gulistan Carpet. He arrived early at his office and worked hard. He was versatile. Whatever needed done, he usually could do it. As our product development department lost workers over the years, Joe filled in. He worked with designs and colors and took over the making (“tufting”) of machine-run sample prototypes after Roy Thompson retired and no one was hired to fill Roy’s position. Joe had a “can do” attitude. He and I never had an argument in the 24 years I worked closely with him. He was well-liked and drew people to him. I knew he cared greatly for his sons, and I pictured him looking out for them when they were young, back when Joe went through two marriages that ended in divorces. Joe’s hands were talented hands, and they had calluses on them. It seemed sad that Joe died before he collected even one Social Security check. He had decided to begin taking Social Security at age 62 because his job was eliminated soon after Gulistan Carpet declared bankruptcy in a letter published on Jan. 7, 2013 – eight months before Joe would turn 62. 
        
 Joe Finishes at Gulistan 
I was let go on Jan. 11, 2013, but Joe was kept on to help Dale with the shutdown of the Gulistan Product Development Department.
Joe wrote on Facebook on Feb. 7, 2013: “After 40 years of going to my ‘home away from home’ (it's called ‘work’), tomorrow is my last day of working at Gulistan Carpets. It caught me a little earlier than I wanted, but I am blessed to have had the opportunity to work 40 years at one place. I will now do things that one only dreams about when working. Y’all come to see me and let’s party. lol.”
Joe began drawing unemployment benefits.
On Facebook on March 13, 2013, Joe wrote over a reference to an online video he posted on his Facebook page:  “This sums it up so we all understand; please take the time to watch.” Underneath that sentence was (and still is) the reference to the site that offers this video: “Duck Commander Phil Robertson –Deciding To Follow Jesus.”  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KwrmlTPI8w&feature=share

That video features Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson telling of his conversion, at age 28, to Jesus Christ.
Joe once told me that he used to help lead the youth in music at Beulah Hill Baptist Church in West End NC. He told me that he believed in Jesus Christ as the Savior. “I say my prayers every night,” he said.    
Joe wrote on Facebook on July 26, 2013, after he saw an article in The Pilot that told about the possibility of a new business occupying the Gulistan property: “[Gulistan] was my ‘home away from home’ for 40 years; it was my place of work, and I enjoyed it. I hope the best for this place; it holds some great memories.”
Dale, Joe, Arnold (an 80-year-old retiree from Gulistan’s Technical Services), Jerry, Allen and I met for lunch at the Golden Corral a few times after all of us, except Dale, had left Gulistan. Dale left Gulistan on the last workweek day in June 2013. Our group, including maybe our former office administrator, Dillene, was planning on getting together again, soon.

The last e-mail I received from Joe arrived on Sept. 14, 2013, and it contained this message:
“Hope you and Carol are doing great. I have a slack period now until I get my Social Security; the only way to sign back up for unemployment is to go to school. It is really crazy how hard it is now for people to retire. Years ago, it wasn't a problem. I really feel bad for my sons and granddaughters. Take care, --Joe.”

Joe loved country life and the outdoors. He had once taken a survival course, a kind of “living off the land” course, at Sandhills Community College. If I wanted to know something about deer or animals, I just asked Joe. After I hired on at Gulistan in April 1989, Joe persuaded me – I forget which summer – to go to “Farmers Day” in Robbins NC. I went to the parade that featured horses, mules and riders, and I carried a camera. I photographed Joe riding a gray horse in the parade. His son Josh rode double with him, and I took a photo right in front of a carpet retail store. In the photo, the word “carpet” is pictured in big letters behind Joe. We laughed that he couldn’t get away from “carpet.”

‘Home Away from Home’
During the last few years at Gulistan, Joe, Dale and I fairly consistently ate lunch together in the break room/ lunch area of product development. We used to go out for lunch quite often, usually separately, but in recent years, the economy sort of made us conscious of prices. We brought food from home and used two microwaves to warm our lunches. Joe sometimes brought big bowls of things (spaghetti, dumplings, etc.) he cooked. We’d usually eat for 30 minutes and talk over things going on at work or in the world. Then we’d split off to separate rooms to take naps. Joe wasn’t used to napping at lunchtime, but during his last few years at Gulistan, he began to value midday siestas.
The break area was our gathering place for 3:00 p.m. break-time birthday celebrations. There were only five of us in the department during the last few years: Joe, Dale, Jerry, Dillene, and me. When one of us had a birthday, we’d celebrate at 3:00 p.m. on the day of the birthday or a day near that birthday. We’d share a carton of ice cream – we liked Harris-Teeter’s (Hunter) “Truly Chocolate” – and a cake. As Joe said, our office was sort of a “home away from home.”
Especially during 2012, we were concerned with business conditions. Our department developed new products, but those products were not being produced as running line introductions. We introduced a few things, but our development efforts weren’t being used to capacity. We were concerned about the company. I felt close to Joe, Dale, Jerry and Dillene. I worked with them for 24 years. Jerry was let go in December, just before he turned age 67. I was let go on Jan. 11. Dale, Joe and Dillene helped me carry my stuff to my old Nissan truck. We said we’d keep in touch. I felt I was leaving my “extended family” as I drove from the Gulistan parking lot on Jan. 11. I believe that when Joe left on Feb. 8, he felt the same way.

Marshall Caddell returned to the microphone during the memorial service. I think it was at this point that Caddell asked if anyone had anything to say about Joe. No one volunteered, and, as Dale Meacham mentioned later, if the family had desired for someone to say something extra, the family would probably have arranged that ahead of time. I’m sure many could have talked much about Joe, but the service seemed fine as it was.
Caddell closed by praying, “We ask for comfort, especially for the sons, grandchildren, and Janet. We thank you for the good. In Christ’s holy name, amen.”
Tables under a tent held barbecue, coleslaw, baked beans and other foods, including desserts people brought. There were soft drinks and iced tea. Dale, Allen and I sat and ate for a while as recorded music played. I heard songs such as “Just As I Am” and Vern Gosdin’s recorded voice singing “Sweet Hour of Prayer.” I heard Elvis Pressley’s version of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Dale and Allen walked down to the river with a group. I wanted to go but figured the distance might be hard on my joints. When they returned, I spoke with Janet, Joey and Josh. Dale, Allen and I headed to Dale’s Jeep. 

The memorial service offered a time to process Joe’s passing, which hardly seemed real. We sat under trees and listened quietly to words of comfort, mostly offered to us through music.
I researched “memorial service” on the Internet and found that someone said, “A memorial service is to celebrate and remember the life of the person who was lost. It helps family and friends draw emotional support, and it presents a public display of acknowledgment of the person’s life.”
Joe’s memorial service seemed fitting to his memory. Many days have passed since that service, and I often still think about Joe. It’s hard to believe he’s no longer here with us.                                                

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Good to the Last Drop


 Pictured is "Pa Crain," Carl C. Crain, my paternal grandfather. 

My dad was probably too nervous to spend time sitting around a South Carolina fishing pond when I was a boy. He served with the U.S. 84th Infantry in Germany during World War II and returned to my mother, who birthed me in 1947 as part of a post-WWII “baby boom.” Dad’s army service changed him, some said – or maybe he just thought fishing was a foolish way to fritter away God-given time on Saturdays. I’m not sure.

As a young man, my paternal grandfather, a carpenter, worked as a sharecropper until he bought a small farm. He made Fred, my dad’s younger brother, and Dad follow in his footsteps when they were boys. They worked all week and had to put in a half-day’s work each Saturday on their parents’ “place.” When I was a child, however, my grandfather – I called him “Pa” – enjoyed fishing on Saturdays during summer months. I started going fishing with him when I was five years old, and he hooked me on catching catfish in what folk called “pay lakes.”

For one dollar per person per day, one could fish all day, usually with no limit on the number of fish caught. Lake owners bought catfish to stock what we called “lakes” (usually those “lakes” were just ponds of varying sizes). We often drove down dirt roads and through cow pastures to get to fishing paradises that enticed us to spend hours staring at lines and corks while waiting for fish “to bite.”

Pa and I fished many Saturdays at Groces Fishing Lake on State Park Road near Traveler’s Rest, S.C. We’d arrive early – maybe around 7:00 a.m. – and begin “wetting lines.” Sometimes we’d beat the lake owner to the site. When the owner arrived and opened his small canteen, Pa would send me around the lake to get “fishing permits,” receipts we kept with us for the duration of the time we spent “drowning worms” or bating with shrimp to try to catch some “cats.”

The owner of Groces Lake had a nice concession stand with a wide opened and propped-up window that he closed and locked when he went home. While purchasing permits, I’d look into the stand and see candy bars, cheese crackers, packages of “tater chips” and cups of earthworms. He also kept cold soft drinks in his stash.

Pa fished with two rods and reels (two was the limit at pay lakes). I sat and watched the cork attached to the line on my cane pole and feel the morning sun bear down. The straw hat my mother made me wear didn’t do much to keep me from sweating. Often, the fish seemed slow to wake up.

“Got any bites,” I’d ask Pa around 8:00 a.m.

“Naw, not yet,” he’d say.

I’d get dryer and dryer and start wishing Pa would shell out some cash for soft drinks. Sometimes he’d wait until 10 a.m. before he’d say, “Get us a Pepsi.”

He really meant two Pepsis.

He’d give me money, and I’d almost run to the concession stand and bring back two opened, cold bottles of Pepsi.

Man! I’d take a swig of my Pepsi and feel  it froth up in my mouth. I’d feel like a man in a desert who received a life-giving drink of liquid. I’d swill that Pepsi, and it was good to the last drop.  
---------------------
                          
I am pictured here at five years of age with a string of catfish.
   

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Ronnie Eugene Norris and Stanley Norris Green - Their Names Are on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall


 Ronnie Eugene Norris was a native of Greer, S.C.

I have never visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. I was near it in 1997 when I attended a Promise Keepers’ meeting in D.C., but the crowd attending that gathering was large and my time limited; I decided not to try to visit the memorial that day.
According to “Wikipedia,” the Vietnam Veterans Memorial honors service members of the U.S. armed forces who fought in the Vietnam War, service members who died in service in Vietnam/South East Asia, and those service members who were unaccounted for (Missing In Action) during the War.
The Memorial Wall, designed by American architect Maya Lin, currently consists of three separate parts: the Three Soldiers statue, the Vietnam Women's Memorial, and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall,’
Stone for the wall came from Bangalore, Karnataka, India, and was chosen because of its reflective quality. When a visitor looks upon the wall, his or her reflection can be seen simultaneously with the engraved names – an effect intended to symbolically bring the past and present together. As of May 2011, there were 58,272 names (including eight women’s names) engraved on the wall.
During the 1980s, I saw the traveling version of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial wall in Greenville, S.C. That “moving wall” is a 3/5-scale replica of the permanent memorial wall in Washington, D.C.; it stands six feet tall at the center and covers almost 300 feet from end to end (www.themovingwall.org).
Many people who visited that touring wall touched names on the wall; some laid flowers and notes at the wall’s base.
I served in Vietnam for almost all of 1971 as an U.S. Army GI – “GI” stood for “Government Issue,” but by World War II “GI” had become a nickname for military personnel. I never saw combat and experienced an easy “tour of duty.”
I knew at least two men whose names are engraved on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial wall.
I attended Greer High School (Greer, S.C.) with Ronnie Eugene Norris and his brother Tommy, both likable fellows. Ronnie was in one of my high school gym classes. I remember seeing Ronnie adjust his glasses with a sweaty hand before serving as we played volleyball outside the gym on a spring day. He put the ball over the net. We were just boys, goofing around, having fun.
Shortly after his high school experience, Ronnie ended up in the army. When I heard of his death in Vietnam, I envisioned his laughing face as he served during a volleyball game. According to available records, “RONNIE EUGENE NORRIS” is honored on Panel 13E, Row 85 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Born in 1945, Ronnie died on December 27, 1966, in Binh Dinh Province, South Vietnam. He reportedly died “outright” as a “ground casualty” of hostile “gun or small arms fire” as he participated in an “unspecified operation.” His body was recovered. Ronnie served as a private first class (MOS 13A10: Field Artillery Basic) and as a member of C Battery, 6TH BN, 16TH Artillery, 1ST CAV DIV, USARV (U.S. Army Republic of Vietnam).
I met Stanley Norris Green from Macon, Georgia, at Bob Jones University in Greenville, S.C. I didn’t know Stan well, but he and I were art students at BJU and members of the same school “society.” The university had no sororities or fraternities, but it required that every student be a member of one of many “literary societies.” Those societies met weekly (on Wednesdays) around noon and served as social and service organizations and sponsors for intramural sports teams. Stan and I belonged to “Lanier,” a society named for Sidney Lanier, a Georgia poet.
The son of an evangelist, Stan was a handsome young man who possessed a friendly, outgoing personality. He did well in art, but for some reason he seemed restless and enlisted in the army.
Stan served for a year in Vietnam and returned to BJU for a visit (I think he visited the school in the spring of 1967). Our societies met in university classrooms, and when Stan visited our Lanier meeting, he sat on a professor’s desk and related some positive things about his Vietnam experiences. He seemed relaxed and proud of his service in Southeast Asia. He appeared to have found a “cause” and seemed happy and at peace. He told us he had reenlisted.
“STANLEY NORRIS GREEN” is honored on Panel W38, line 26 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Born in 1947, Stan died on November 21, 1968, in Binh Thuan Province, South Vietnam. He reportedly died of “hostile wounds” sustained from an “air loss or crash over land” when he served on a helicopter (“non-crew”) – meaning that the helicopter he rode was probably shot down. His body was recovered. Stan served as an infantryman, a sergeant (E5) with an MOS of 11D40: Armor Reconnaissance Specialist. Stan served as a member of B Troop, 7TH SQDN, 17TH Cavalry, 1ST Aviation Brigade, USARV (U.S. Army Republic of Vietnam).
I often think of Ronnie Norris and Stan Green. Years ago, I never dreamed their names would be engraved on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial wall. 


 Pictured is The Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C. 

------------------ 
  In October 2013, I (Steve Crain) received the following e-mail from Cindi Engle Bolden:  


Sin13 said...
Dear Steve,

Thank you for honoring Ronnie in your post. I have never met him or his family, but I have lived my whole 36 years knowing of him as family.

My dad [
Bobby Joe Engle] served in Vietnam with Ronnie and was there when he was killed. My father was also injured, and he has recently passed due to agent orange exposure while serving. It's been almost 2 years.

Last year, we went to the Wall for the In Memory program to honor my father and those who have died from their service but are not eligible to be on the wall. In the end, my father's memorial picture was 2 panels away from Ronnie's name, which I thought was very fitting.

My father talked of Ronnie often and said that he was his best friend. I imagine that their time serving together brought them pretty close as my grandmother and aunts have been in touch with Ronnie's family since the war. Ronnie's death devastated and haunted my father for the rest of his life, it was a big loss to him and for me personally as well. My father never got over that, and the talks we had left me with a lifetime of wondering and imagining.

Our trip to the wall was one of the most emotional things I have ever done, not just because of the loss of my father but because of his stories and my eagerness to learn and understand our Vets and the war. The loss, suffering and flat out neglect of our Vietnam Vets breaks my heart and leaves a heavy burden that I sometimes wish I didn't have to carry, but I always will.

I have several pictures of Ronnie in my dad's Vietnam album that I would like to share with you, I'm not sure how though.

If you aren't already, I encourage you to become involved with the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund. http://www.vvmf.org/.

Thank you again for your post and please know that there is another family out here that regularly honors and thinks of Ronnie.

Proud Daughter of a Vietnam Vet,
Cindi Engle Bolden 


Shown below are photos of Ronnie Eugene Norris, taken by Cindi's father while in Vietnam in 1967. 



 
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Linda Passwaters sent to me (Steve Crain) the following e-mail in July 2013:

Dear Steve,

Thank you for posting the photo and article about Stan Green. I met Stan in 1967 while he was at Fort Bragg for several months before he was killed in Vietnam. He was staying with an Army buddy, and I had the opportunity to join them for a day at the beach. He was such a nice young man, so polite and courteous.  My father liked him right away.

We only met once or twice, so I don’t know much about Stan,  but your article filled in several gaps. I do remember him talking about art and how much he liked to draw and also about how he had left college to join the Army.  He talked a lot about his parents, especially his Mother. He told me that she was a speech therapist and preceded to tell funny stories about her. As a Mother of two sons my heart goes out to her for her loss. I  have often thought about him and wondered who he was and what he might have been.

I am sorry about going on and on, but this is the first time I’ve spoken to someone about him since that summer in 1968. If you don’t mind, please go to http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GSln=Green&GSfn=Stanley&GSmn=Norris&GSbyrel=all&GSdyrel=all&GSob=n&GRid=18409329&df=all&  .  There you will find a memorial to Stan with a photo of his grave marker as well as a copy of the photo you posted of him. I am trying to keep his memory alive by maintaining the site. Please feel free to leave a short message there.

Sincerely,
Linda Passwaters 


Shown below is a photo of Stan Green's grave marker as displayed in the Mount Hebron West Cemetery, Elmore, Elmore County, Alabama, USA: 

 


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In February 2014, Stephan Howard, who attended church with Stan Green when Howard was a boy, e-mailed me and said, “Cliff Welding was the oh6 Loach helicopter Pilot with Stan Green in the aircraft with him [Green] as observer. They were flying wing on the mission for Joe Shepherd in the lead helicopter. They were working as a pink team (2 oh6 helicopters, 2 cobra helicopters), and went back to assess the cobra's attack damage on a trailed group of VC and they were hit.”
S. Howard referred me to an internet site that contains more information:
  
that yielded this information:
"Cliff Welding and SGT Green were flying my wing that day. We were covered by two cobras and were following a fresh trail from an over-night contact into the foothills. We caught a group of 8-10 VC on the trail. Cliff and I both engaged with mini-guns and fire from our observers. We dropped smoke and the cobras rolled in as we moved off to the west. After making several passes, the cobra lead called us back for a BDA. Cliff's mini-gun had stopped working so he led back into the area and I followed to cover him. As we neared the smoke from the cobra's rockets we received small arms fire. Then Cliff's aircraft was hit by an RPG. It went down immediatley! I tried to land but could not because of small arms fire. I could see that Cliff was still in the burning aircraft and that SGT Green was out, but that he was burned very bad. I stayed on station until the Blues arrived and confirmed that Cliff was KIA and SGT Green was medevaced."
Submitted by Joe Shepherd, Scalp Hunter 15
This record was last updated on 10/22/1999 

The full report accompanying the above site lists this information: 

Information on U.S. Army helicopter OH-6A tail number 67-16355
The Army purchased this helicopter 0968
Total flight hours at this point: 00000047
Date: 11/21/1968
Incident number: 68112101.KIA
Unit: B/7/17 CAV
This was a Combat incident. This helicopter was LOSS TO INVENTORY
This was a Recon mission for Unarmed Recon
Unknown this helicopter was Unknown at UNK feet and UNK knots.
Unknown
UTM grid coordinates: AN962487
Count of hits was not possible because the helicopter burned or exploded.
Small Arms/Automatic Weapons; Gun launched non-explosive ballistic projectiles less than 20 mm in size. (7.62MM)
Systems damaged were: PERSONNEL
Casualties = 02 DOI . .
The helicopter Crashed. Aircraft Destroyed.
Both mission and flight capability were terminated.
Burned
Original source(s) and document(s) from which the incident was created or updated: Defense Intelligence Agency Helicopter Loss database. Survivability/Vulnerability Information Analysis Center Helicopter database. Also: OPERA, LNOF, 80466, CASRP, CRAFX, JSIDR, HUGHS, Joe Shepherd (Operations Report. Lindenmuth Old Format Data Base. Joint Services Incident Damage Report. Crash Facts Message. Casualty Report. )
Summary: Shot down and destroyed by a group of VC during a BDA after a Cobra rocket attack during a VR mission.
Loss to Inventory

Crew Members:
P 1LT WELDING CLIFFORD KAY KIA
OB SGT GREEN STANLEY NORRIS KIA