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If graduation is the goal of a scholar, then entry into glory is the ultimate experience for a Christian. Thursday, September 24, Paul James Irwin answered the angel’s call and followed into the embrace of his Savior. He was 82 years old.

Paul had many names. Those who called him son are gone, but three women and one man remain who called him brother. Two wives, also gone, called him husband. For five others, his name was Dad; their children and grandchildren called him Grandpa. Some of us called him Uncle. And every title was given him in love because he loved us so much.

In the 60’s, he moved his family to the Phoenix area, far away from his Pennsylvania relatives. His mother always grieved at the distance her first born had migrated from her. But the years were filled with visits back and forth, and the rest of his life came back to us in his letters. Reading his letters was like reading the stories of the Old Testament saints – not that his life was perfect – far from it, but neither were those Old Testament saints. But like those people, in every situation, Paul remained faithful to God, even when others were faithless to him. And like the saints of the Bible, his humanity and his faith became examples for the rest of us.

A few years ago, he shared his salvation story. Vernon Vanness, a local minister at the time, visited his home in Jackson Summit, Pa. Married, with kids already, Paul had never given his heart to Christ even though he had been raised in church. But that night he gave his life to the Lord and began another journey – a spiritual one that changed his life.

Oh, he still worked as a mechanic, but he got involved in his church – everywhere he lived. He taught primary Sunday school – not the image one expects of a man, but he enjoyed it. He served as deacon and trustee and sang in his choir, and as a soloist or with others. And when he wasn’t fixing cars and buses in the church lot, he was fixing vehicles for his family.

When heartache came to his family and things didn’t turn out the way he had planned, he didn’t turn his back on God because he knew God still loved him. And Paul loved his family just as much, both in Pennsylvania and Arizona.

Paul Irwin leaves a legacy of love and service, and as much as we will miss him, we don’t want to keep him from the heavenly rewards he deserves for his life well-lived.

We say the pledge of allegiance — every morning. And yes, oral, group prayer is missing, but the problem is, who is supposed to teach it that doesn’t offend someone else? There are some teachers who none of us want to teach prayer. Instead, the parents of public school children see the God given right to teach their own children about God and then to allow them to teach each other. Students have those rights that the adults do not have.

And our students do pray. Every day. Individually, in the moment of silence. And some teachers pray then too. And we all have that right. And in some schools, students meet together in prayer groups. They have that right, and they exercise it.

And as a Christian school teacher I honor that right. And I pray individually, silently for each of my students and they know that without me saying so. This is America where FREEDOM rings and freedom of religion is still present — the religion we individually choose and those religions others choose. That is the definition of religious freedom.

Charlie Spencer was Everyone’s Atticus

Charlie Spencer served as custodian in Henry County schools. He moved furniture and cleaned, always with good humor. But the quiet man behind the broom, like Atticus of To Kill a Mockingbird, contained a character that few possess.

Charlie and teacher Roger Spencer formed the best comedy team that never hit the road. In their routine, Charlie, African-American, and Roger, white, both claimed the same mother and different fathers. Their jokes flowed spontaneously, without rancor or racism, like seasoned performers. The first time I heard them, I understood that Charlie might be the janitor, but he didn’t lack intelligence. He provided levity for weary teachers. Charlie took care of our spirits.

            He had as much honesty as humor and intelligence. Once, while cleaning, he found several hundred dollars hidden in the ceiling of the boys’ locker room. Charlie was wise enough not to tell what he found, but he listened. He soon learned one of the coaches had missed money from his truck. Charlie returned it to its rightful owner.

            One day my freshman English class wrote in their journals on the topic: “Who is your hero?”

            The opening line of one student’s paper said, “Charlie Spencer is my hero.”

            Intrigued, I continued reading. The young man wrote that when times grew tough for his family, Charlie knew about it. Charlie and his wife purchased that young man school clothes and other necessities – on a custodian’s salary.

            Later, I told Charlie about the paper. He quietly smiled and brushed it off as a small event in his life. He simply saw a need and met it, he said. But his eyes beamed.

As Atticus sat behind his newspaper, influencing Scout’s life, Charlie stood behind his broom. While he may not have provided for other teens like he did that young man, he often encouraged disadvantaged students to do their best. He cared about them.

            As gentle as he was, Charlie did surprise me one day.  A colleague, who had given verbal abuse to several faculty members that year, turned on Charlie one day. Most of the faculty bit their lips when this man approached, saying nothing. But Charlie, like Atticus, knew when to fight back. He stood before that man, shook his pocket and set an example. “I’ve got heart pills in here. Don’t you make me start popping them.” The man backed up, walked away and never bothered Charlie again.

            Charlie served in Vietnam, but he never talked about it. Those years were better forgotten he said, but he wasn’t one of those vets who returned ashamed of their service. And he shouldn’t have been. I was proud to buy a VFW calendar from him every year.  Charlie was my Atticus. He stood behind the scenes, ready to come forward when needed. His character was filled with kindness and integrity for everyone. He defended and cared for us in his post-military days as well as he did while he served. Charlie was not only my Atticus, he was everyone’s.            

As I wrote this essay to enter it in The Big Read contest, I knew it needed to be about a local person. But which one? Even though I have met several in the last 11 years who have the qualities of Atticus from To Kill a Mockingbird, I have to confess that I wasn’t sure about whom I should write. I prayed about it and within two days, all the little anecdotes in Charlie’s life were circling my mind.    And so I wrote — and yes, hoped I might win. But I wrote mostly because Georgia Wentzel, president of Piedmont Writer’s group said, “We’re the writers of the community, ladies. We need to participate.” She was right, so I wrote.    The thing I did not expect was the wonderful sense of community that resulted when I won. Charlie became even more of a local hero — a deserving tribute. Those of us who know him reminisced about those good days he was a part of our Magna Vista community and about the others who have retired from our presence. Charlie and those people set a high standard for us to follow that was one of meeting the needs of a whole person, not just academic needs. We remembered the ideals we held important and dedicated ourselves to them again.

de Spot in Martinsville, Virginia, contains an eclectic collection of art for sale. From handmade jewelry to glass centerpieces, wood carved bowls, paintings, knitted garments, christening gowns and much more, the journey through the shop, owned by local artist by Karen Despot is a cultural event.          

   Karen brings fine pieces as well as creative workshops to the consumer. And she educates the public, enabling them to create their own art. For example, Karen is currently planning with world-famous knitter Debby Ware to bring one of Debby’s workshops to  de Spot.    

   Debby Ware is to the knitter what Yo-Yo Ma is to the musician. She is unique in design, talent and instruction. Recognized from New York City to Martha’s Vineyard, Debby now resides in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. But she doesn’t stay there. She travels the country, teaching her art. And even though stitches may be complicated, she works well even with beginning knitters.

   Few teachers know how to inspire and encourage, but Debby is one of those who can and do. And her talents include more than knit and knit design. She has also authored three books. And now, the knitters of Martinsville and the surrounding area will soon be linked by more than yarn.

Uncle Paul is 81. In spite of kidney dialysis three timess a week, he decided to attend his 65th class reunion, so with his daughter Bonnie and grandson Josh, he boarded a plane and came. He had to endure a family reunion before the class reunion, but he managed. He also spoke to his class. I want that kind of spirit when I’m his age.

Andrew did not want to go to his end of the year competition, but he did. Once he arrived, he participated, as we knew he would. He won third place in form and second place in sparring. Then he was glad and we were proud.

 Excellence runs in the Gravely family. Gravely, who teaches Andrew, has a son Tony who is a two-time Virginia state championship wrestler in the 112 weight division. Last year he placed #14 in the nation. Read more about him (by clicking on the links below) in the February (page 11) and March editions of the Smoke Signals, Magna Vista’s school newspaper.

http://henryva.schoolwires.com/43562012775154680/lib/43562012775154680/_files/MVHS24148FEB.pdf

http://henryva.schoolwires.com/43562012775154680/lib/43562012775154680/_files/MVHS24148MAR.pdf