Eulogy for a humble man - Robert Raymond Sykes

Grace to you and peace be with you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

I’m honored to have been asked to participate this evening in the celebration of the life of Mr. Robert Raymond Sykes, known by many of us as Mr. Robert.

Mr. Robert slipped from the surly bounds of this Earth and touched the face of God Sunday around noon while a resident at a nursing home in Oak Ridge, Tenn.

He was a dear and special person to all that knew him.

On behalf of all the family, --- Miss Vi, Carter, Dianne, Robby and Robert’s daughters Ginny and Barbara we thank each of you for coming to celebrate and remembering his life this evening.

Although the passing of our loved ones can be a tragic and sad occasion, I hope this evening I will leave you with some loving, caring and comforting memories of Mr. Robert Raymond Sykes--- for I do believe that he would want us to not mourn his passing but rejoice in his new birth and release him for his next great adventure.

For those of you whom I have not yet met --- my name is Darryl Armstrong.

Dianne and I have known each other more than a quarter of a century --- she is like a sister to me. Miss Vi and Robert, Robby and Carter have treated us like family from the first day we met them.

Dianne and I have lived through and shared many good and bad times, the triumphant and the tragic, and this evening the sad occasion of the passage of Mr. Robert.

Simply, today the world is a little sadder --- because we have lost a truly humble, decent and caring man. And in today’s times that is a great loss.

Robert Raymond Sykes was the husband of Miss Vi for ____ years, he was a devoted husband and a precious friend.

He was a caring, loving, gentle, smiling giant of a spirit with lots of tobacco chewing teddy bear qualities --- we will not soon forget him and so many of us felt honored to have had him touch our lives in some small way.

The past few months have seen a steady decline in his health and yet not once did he ever complain.

I believe it is during these times that all of us face and deal directly with our relationship with our Creator.

And I am confident that Robert’s relationship with his Creator was a personal one and that when he passed from this life at age 89 – he would have been 90 in July --- that he was greeted warmly and lovingly by all those who had proceeded him in death.

Make no mistake about it, Robert Raymond Sykes lived a remarkably full, historic, inspiring and optimistic life.

Here was a man --- one of the Greatest Generation --- that many of you may not realize qualified as an Expert Marksman --- was promoted to Tech Sgt and survived five battles of WWII and yet rarely ever spoke of his military career --- a man who rode down the Waco Glider behind the lines at Normandy and who struggled through the fierce, devastating Battle of the Bulge --- here ladies and gentlemen was one of the men whom we can thank for our freedom today ---

That was just one of the reasons I liked and admired Mr. Robert --- I came to love him when I came to realize he was of the same stock that my grandparents were from

--- and much like my dear friend Dianne and her brother Carter --- we understand and cherish the fact that we have come from and been associated with loyal, solid, and down to earth --- indeed “salt of the earth” people like Mr. Robert and Miss Vi ---

These are kind and gentle souls that have raised us, taught us, disciplined us and that have graced our world with a unique and humbling presence that comes from a life filled with experiences of love, and laughter and yes pain.

Everyone who took the time to know Robert Sykes was blessed by him and the genuineness of his spirit.

Robert Sykes was one of those unique and special people that understood the meaning of and lived the words from Micah 6:8 ---

“...The LORD has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love with mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God.”

Many years ago, while working in North Georgia, I came across an old farmhouse.

When I went to knock on the door I noticed there was a handwritten poem taped in an old frame beside the door jam.

I believe that poem summarizes my personal vision of the spirit of Robert.

Sam Walter Foss wrote the poem. Foss wrote:

“There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellow less firmament:
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by ---
The men who are good and the men who are bad
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s bane;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

The life of Robert Raymond Sykes was one of joyous living by the side of the road ---
First in Possum Holler, where he enjoyed the status of being Pronounced Mayor by Miss Dianne

And then later on at Leatherwood Creek with Miss Vi and her “hidey house” and later still in the mountains of Oak Ridge, Tenn.

And in each of these places Mr. Robert was a simple man with simple pleasures who was never heard to complain about anything to anybody.

After all how many of us would have “stars in our crown” after having worn a catheter for the past three years? And yet never once did he complain --- instead he always took time to personally say thank you to Dianne after each trip to the doctor.

Robert was brought up right --- as my Momma would say --- he understood the importance of courtesy, good manners and civility.

Robert and I shared a mutual passion --- and maybe this is why he became so dear to me – you see we enjoyed books --- books of all kinds of books –—

Goodness knows how many he read in his lifetime --- for sure at least 5-7 a week

Now, many of you may know this but others may not ---

Robert never went beyond the middle of elementary school --- he was in the words of Dianne, who should know having been a teacher and in education for 3 plus decades --- Robert was the most well read and self-educated man she has ever known – I would agree.

Yet, he was not pretentious or arrogant or conceited about his “learning” – rather he was curious, skeptical, and excited --- he was always seeking knowledge and seeking answers to questions – be it through fiction – Louis L’Amour or Zane Grey – or nonfiction books about the civil war or WWII – or just something that caught his fancy that day – he consumed books – and with that he honed his knowledge and lived lives that you and I would never be a party to ---

He always said that his secret to a long-life was his consistent Rough Cut chews mixed with King B tobacco, and his daily pipe filled with cuttings from this chaw –

I always knew that when Mr. Robert stopped chewing that he and God had an understanding that he was soon on his way.

Now I don’t know about your God, or your beliefs, yet like Mr. Robert I will surely respect them,

However, I can tell you that the Heaven he entered the other day probably has gold spittoons –

Yet I suspect Mr. Robert will be content with his Styrofoam cup – he held onto it and went through the motions until just a few days before succumbing to his illness.

By the way Dianne and Miss Vi tell me that there are drawers full of King B and Rough Cut and if there are any of you that would want it I can personally assure you Mr. Robert would have wanted you to have it – just let us know after the service.

Robert Raymond Sykes was a lover of life and of all the people he met in it --- I can still see the dance of mischievousness in his eyes when Carter --- or my wife Kay --- known affectionately by him as Dimples --- would walk through the door at Christmas --- life was joyous to Robert even if he spent many years of it, especially in his 80s, comfortably seated in his recliner

Make no mistake though – let you or I walk in to visit and he was the first to put down his book and stretch out his hand of fellowship – he never met a stranger.

Which leads me to the first time I ever met Robert --- I worked at TVA at Land Between The Rivers --- he worked at Fort Donaldson --- one bright spring day in 1973 I walked through the door of the visitor center there to see Mr. Robert entertaining some Yankees and telling the real story of the War of Northern Aggression – what a story teller – what a raconteur he was!

He had Dianne and Carter believing one night one of the most harrowing and scary ghost tales to ever have been told on Leatherwood Creek ---

They both tell me that they in no way would have questioned his veracity --- why Mr. Robert was always correct and accurate in the telling of his tales --- and so they went to bed that night and tossed and turned a lot --- only to find him back on the door step early the next day sincerely apologizing for telling them an untruthful yarn of great exaggeration.

Such was this man --- this gentle spirit --- this giant of a teddy bear --- this humble, meek and quiet teller of tales.

So, this evening I want us to take a minute to remember Robert Raymond Sykes from what others tell me about him:

Let us remember him as a Father who always looked forward to seeing his children Barbara and Ginny.

Let us remember him as a soldier --- he would never call himself a hero --- heroes are those who don’t come home, and who like so many of the Great Generation spoke little of his decorations and awards from the 5 battles he survived during WWII.

Let us remember Robert as a man who cherished his friends and his family.

Let us remember him as a fighter to the end --- a man who refused to let his illness take him without the good fight.

Let us remember him as the husband who counseled Dianne to be sure to look out for Miss Vi --- even at the end of his life being more concerned about others than himself.

My grandfather, whom I revered as a man, always told me that you can tell the character of a man by how he is with dogs, cats and kids --- let us remember him fondly for his love of Miss Vi’s cat and the way he cherished Dianne’s dogs - Tiffy and Peppie and how much he enjoyed having Peppie sit on his chair with him.

Let us remember Robert as a farmer, a timber man and as a ranger at Fort Donaldson where he knew every nook and cranny by heart and could recite the history to you in his sleep.

Let us remember the fondness and respect he had for his girls at the bank and the grocery store --- where each one had a special name --- “Apple Butter,” “Sugar Dumpling,” “Sweet Pea” and let Miss Vi always know that when she hears the words “Sugar” and “Honey” --- he was always referring to her.

Let us remember Robert Sykes as a man who loved his catfish dinners at Cindy’s and as a man that never met a donut that he didn’t like.

And in those dark hours of our nights when we want to take the precious memories from the recesses of our mind and remember Mr. Robert,

Let us remember him as the loving, and caring and devoted father, husband confidant and dearest friend that through 89 years of perpetual motion could smile and say – that some of life was magic, some was life was tragic but I had a good life always.

The Rev. John Newton was a slave owner.

On board a slave ship on his way back from Africa to the East Indies a nearly “Perfect Storm” overcame his ship.

Hours of fear and terror led him to write the following words and abandon the enslavement of other people. He wrote this poem later set to music:

“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.

T’was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.

The Lord has promised good to me, his words my hope secures; he will my shield and portion be; as long as life endures.

Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; t’is grace that brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home...

It was through grace that Mr. Robert was allowed to spend 89 wonderful years with us and we are so grateful for that.

It will be through grace that our grief and sorrow we shall bear in the coming days and months.

For all of you have come today, we thank you and express our sincerest appreciation.

I want to encourage you as you leave today --- in your final moments with the Family and all of Mr. Robert’s friends --- to take time to stop, and give them a loving hug.

Hugs are the beginning of the healing process.

Hug the family and friends gathered here today before you leave --- just as he so warmly hugged so many of us over the years.

As the days progress, and our grief and sorrows lessen - let us not forget that Miss Vi, Carter, Dianne, Robby, Barbara and Ginny and all the immediate families involved, will still need your attention, your love, your support and your encouragement.

Please call them, or stop by and visit them frequently.

In closing, I would like to speak to all Robert’s immediate and extended family.

Please know that many, many of us love and care for you.

We know of the many personal sacrifices of time, energy and devotion you gave Robert these past several years and especially the past several months.

Your commitment to his care in the final months is commendable and was important to him and indeed to all of us.

It’s important to us because it reinforces in our hearts and minds that there are still children who have highly instilled values and understand the importance of being there for the family.

I know that you will deeply miss Robert --- you will miss the very essence of him.

Such devotion to a parent in today’s world is the exception rather than the rule.

Please be comforted by the knowledge that you did all that you could do for him and you did it very well.

And yet, we all know that it is just Robert’s body that is leaving us --- his spirit lives on in each of your smiles, your gentle touches, and your very being.

I believe that Willie Nelson captured it best in the song the “Highway Men” when he wrote:

“I'll fly a starship
Across the universe divide
And when I reach the other side,
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again and again and again...”

Perhaps as Robert was transitioning from this world to the spiritual realm he was thinking ---

“I could see the white house gleaming welcoming me through the reddening autumn leaves, I could feel the quiet hush of the country twilight coming down over me like a benediction and hear the coyotes, tree frogs and night critters, I could feel the dew falling on the acres of green fields, and see the raw color of the red rocky earth and the dismal dark beauty of the oaks and hickories on the rolling hills and I knew I was going home.”

I hope ladies and gentlemen – family and friends -- that in some small way I have brought you comfort and some peace this evening - and that we shall continue our life journey knowing that the dearest of friends are always cherished.

Let us pray.

“Lord make me an instrument of thy peace;

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury --- let me pardon;

where there is doubt --- let me sow faith;

where there is despair --- let me sow hope;

where there is darkness --- let me find light;

and where there is sadness --- let me seek joy;

Divine Creator, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love;

for it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”

May the Grace and Peace of God our Father be with each of you.

Amen

Dr. Darryl

L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

In Election 2008, Don’t Forget Us Angry White Men

Amen Gary Hubbell, Amen! Read on ...

In election 2008, don’t forget Angry White Man

Gary Hubbell
February 9, 2008

There is a great amount of interest in this year’s presidential elections, as everybody seems to recognize that our next president has to be a lot better than George Bush. The Democrats are riding high with two groundbreaking candidates — a woman and an African-American — while the conservative Republicans are in a quandary about their party’s nod to a quasi-liberal maverick, John McCain.

Each candidate is carefully pandering to a smorgasbord of special-interest groups, ranging from gay, lesbian and transgender people to children of illegal immigrants to working mothers to evangelical Christians.

There is one group no one has recognized, and it is the group that will decide the election: the Angry White Man. The Angry White Man comes from all economic backgrounds, from dirt-poor to filthy rich. He represents all geographic areas in America, from urban sophisticate to rural redneck, deep South to mountain West, left Coast to Eastern Seaboard.

His common traits are that he isn’t looking for anything from anyone — just the promise to be able to make his own way on a level playing field. In many cases, he is an independent businessman and employs several people. He pays more than his share of taxes and works hard.

The victimhood syndrome buzzwords — “disenfranchised,” “marginalized” and “voiceless” — don’t resonate with him. “Press ‘one’ for English” is a curse-word to him. He’s used to picking up the tab, whether it’s the company Christmas party, three sets of braces, three college educations or a beautiful wedding.

He believes the Constitution is to be interpreted literally, not as a “living document” open to the whims and vagaries of a panel of judges who have never worked an honest day in their lives.

The Angry White Man owns firearms, and he’s willing to pick up a gun to defend his home and his country. He is willing to lay down his life to defend the freedom and safety of others, and the thought of killing someone who needs killing really doesn’t bother him.

The Angry White Man is not a metrosexual, a homosexual or a victim. Nobody like him drowned in Hurricane Katrina — he got his people together and got the hell out, then went back in to rescue those too helpless and stupid to help themselves, often as a police officer, a National Guard soldier or a volunteer firefighter.

His last name and religion don’t matter. His background might be Italian, English, Polish, German, Slavic, Irish, or Russian, and he might have Cherokee, Mexican, or Puerto Rican mixed in, but he considers himself a white American.

He’s a man’s man, the kind of guy who likes to play poker, watch football, hunt white-tailed deer, call turkeys, play golf, spend a few bucks at a strip club once in a blue moon, change his own oil and build things. He coaches baseball, soccer and football teams and doesn’t ask for a penny. He’s the kind of guy who can put an addition on his house with a couple of friends, drill an oil well, weld a new bumper for his truck, design a factory and publish books. He can fill a train with 100,000 tons of coal and get it to the power plant on time so that you keep the lights on and never know what it took to flip that light switch.

Women either love him or hate him, but they know he’s a man, not a dishrag. If they’re looking for someone to walk all over, they’ve got the wrong guy. He stands up straight, opens doors for women and says “Yes, sir” and “No, ma’am.”

He might be a Republican and he might be a Democrat; he might be a Libertarian or a Green. He knows that his wife is more emotional than rational, and he guides the family in a rational manner.

He’s not a racist, but he is annoyed and disappointed when people of certain backgrounds exhibit behavior that typifies the worst stereotypes of their race. He’s willing to give everybody a fair chance if they work hard, play by the rules and learn English.

Most important, the Angry White Man is pissed off. When his job site becomes flooded with illegal workers who don’t pay taxes and his wages drop like a stone, he gets righteously angry. When his job gets shipped overseas, and he has to speak to some incomprehensible idiot in India for tech support, he simmers. When Al Sharpton comes on TV, leading some rally for reparations for slavery or some such nonsense, he bites his tongue and he remembers. When a child gets charged with carrying a concealed weapon for mistakenly bringing a penknife to school, he takes note of who the local idiots are in education and law enforcement.

He also votes, and the Angry White Man loathes Hillary Clinton. Her voice reminds him of a shovel scraping a rock. He recoils at the mere sight of her on television. Her very image disgusts him, and he cannot fathom why anyone would want her as their leader. It’s not that she is a woman. It’s that she is who she is. It’s the liberal victim groups she panders to, the “poor me” attitude that she represents, her inability to give a straight answer to an honest question, his tax dollars that she wants to give to people who refuse to do anything for themselves.

There are many millions of Angry White Men. Four million Angry White Men are members of the National Rifle Association, and all of them will vote against Hillary Clinton, just as the great majority of them voted for George Bush.

He hopes that she will be the Democratic nominee for president in 2008, and he will make sure that she gets beaten like a drum.

Dr. Darryl

L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

Two Wolves

The Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all.

One is Evil.
It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good.
It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity,truth, compassion and faith.

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Dr. Darryl

L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

America is at the "Mall"

FROM THE BACK END OF LAKE BARKLEY ON EDDY CREEK --- It is COLD and ICY and miserable outside today and the boys and me are snuggling up in the office. I have just cancelled my afternoon appointments, Kay has gotten on the slippery road to Nashville to catch an early flight Tuesday to Florida on business and I am diligently working away to catch up having been on the road myself the past week.

And today my old friend and colleague from TVA days Chuck Howell has shared a most poignant and in my eyes truthful accounting of why Americans have the perception they do of the Iraqi War.

It follows for your educational enhancement...


'You Ain't Gonna Like Losing'
(Author unknown)

President Bush did make a bad mistake in the war on terrorism.

But the mistake was not his decision to go to war in Iraq Bush's mistake came in his belief that this country is the same one his father fought for in WWII.

It is not.

Back then, they had just come out of a vicious depression. The country was steeled by the hardship of that depression, but they still believed fervently in this country. They knew that the people had elected their leaders, so it was the people's duty to back those leaders.

Therefore, when the war broke out the people came together, rallied behind, and stuck with their leaders, whether they had voted for them or not or whether the war was going badly or not. And war was just as distasteful and the anguish just as great then as it is today.

Often there were more casualties in one day in WWII than we have had in the entire Iraq war.

But that did not matter.

The people stuck with the President because it was their patriotic duty. Americans put aside their differences in WWII and worked together to win that war. Everyone from every strata of society, from young to old pitched in. Small children pulled little wagons around to gather scrap metal for the war effort. Grade school students saved their pennies to buy stamps for war bonds to help the effort.

Men who were too old or medically 4F lied about their age or condition trying their best to join the military. Women doubled their work to keep things going at home. Harsh rationing of everything from gasoline to soap, to butter was imposed, yet there was very little complaining.

You never heard prominent people on the radio belittling the President.

Interestingly enough in those days there were no fat cat actors and entertainers who ran off to visit and fawn over dictators of hostile countries and complain to them about our President.

Instead, they made upbeat films and entertained our troops to help the troops' morale. And a bunch even enlisted.

And imagine this: Teachers in schools actually started the day off with a Pledge of Allegiance, and with prayers for our country and our troops! Back then, no newspaper would have dared point out certain weak spots in our cities where bombs could be set off to cause the maximum damage.

No newspaper would have dared complain about what we were doing to catch spies. A newspaper would have been laughed out of existence if it had complained that German or Japanese soldiers were being 'tortured' by being forced to wear women's underwear, or subjected to interrogation by a woman, or being scared by a dog or did not have air conditioning.

There were a lot of things different back then.

We were not subjected to a constant bombardment of pornography, perversion and promiscuity in movies or on radio. We did not have legions of crack heads, dope pushers and armed gangs roaming our streets.

No, President Bush did not make a mistake in his handling of terrorism. He made the mistake of believing that we still had the courage and fortitude of our fathers. He believed that this was still the country that our fathers fought so dearly to preserve. It is not the same country. It is now a cross between Sodom and Gomorra and the land of Oz.

We did unite for a short while after 9/11, but our attitude changed when we found out that defending our country would require some sacrifices.

We are in great danger. The terrorists are fanatic Muslims. They believe that it is okay, even their duty, to kill anyone who will not convert to Islam. It has been estimated that about one third or over three hundred million Muslims are sympathetic to the terrorists cause... Hitler and Tojo combined did not have nearly that many potential recruits.

So... We either win it - or lose it - and you ain't gonna like losing.

America is not at war. The military is at war. America is at the mall.

Dr. Darryl

L. Darryl Armstrong

http://www.armstrongandassociates.org/

From Panama City

LaQuinta Inn - Missing my boys this evening. Hope they are enjoying their vacation with Kandace and Kennae.