Mack R. Campbell

And so we mark the passing of Mr. Campbell (I would never have had the nerve to call him by his first name), father to my best friend of 50 years, Joe. And what a man he was. I have many indelible memories of Mr. Campbell's moments of silent reflection, anger (never at me), laughter, stoicism, glee at telling an old story, and always an active, even intellectual curiosity when something about the world caught his attention. And something almost always seemed to.

In childhood, I saw him from afar--standing at the edge of East Lake with his eyes focused somewhere out on the glints on the water, as if trying to piece together the last bits of a puzzle he had long been working out. Or in his truck pulling in from work--we knew then that Joe would no longer be free to play, but would himself be given some new or old chore to finish--for Mr. Campbell was, in those days, not given to tolerating the frivolous, or carefree. A boy's job, or, more exactly, a man's job, was to earn his keep, with the key word there *earn*--and that lesson was well imprinted on his son, as fine a man as I will ever meet in this life, the son a testament to the power of a strong father.

As tough as he was, I was was always spared the disciplinary rigor of Mr. Campbell, who never said a harsh word to me. In the last few years when I'd haul in my family to pay their respects, he'd treat us all as if we were good neighbors he saw every week, telling us stories, asking questions, always making us feel we were the most interesting folks he could hope to talk to.

He was a true personality. In a world of quiet men, he made himself known to the world. As distant and unknowable as he was in my youth, as we both aged, like a good, strong Bourbon he mellowed, bringing those he had known closer to him, as if around a warming campfire when the darkness becomes thick and cold. And in his comforting light you could see yourself and those with you, and you weren't afraid.

The world is now a lesser place. We will miss you, Mack Campbell. Much love and respect, and deepest condolences to Judy, Joe, Kay, and all the grandchildren and great grandchildren.