In the framed photograph that sits on the counter behind her teller station, it’s hard to tell who looks prouder, the squared-away Marine in his dress uniform or his mother standing next to him.
I’ve never met her Marine although I know he comes from good stock. He’s part Pendergrass, which means he’s probably quick-witted and funny. I’ve never known a Pendergrass who wasn’t.
I enjoy stopping by to see his older cousin, Ty Pendergrass, at his office in Minden. Ty and I were running buddies in high school and he’s always been my best source for finding out what’s been going on lately in our hometown.
I wish you had a chance to meet the Marine’s, late great granddaddy, Mr. Quedulous (Q.D.) Pendergrass. He was a splendid piece of work and I’m guessing the original source of the Pendergrass family’s ability to entertain. Mr. Q.D. loved baseball. I never knew him to miss a baseball game he could get to. He even named his son, Ty’s daddy, Tyrus Tristan Pendergrass, after two of the best players in baseball history – Ty Cobb and Tris Speaker.
Mr. Tyrus had been a really good ballplayer when he was at La. Tech. He also volunteered to coach me and Little Ty’s baseball team one summer. Although he did his best, he didn’t have much talent to work with and I seem to remember we lost more than we won.
The Marine’s maternal uncle, Reagan Colvin, is one of the funniest story tellers in North Louisiana. He was a pretty fair baseball pitcher too! I remember one time, when Reagan and I were high school teammates; I got into a dispute with Coach Howard Brown over his decision to move me back in the pitching rotation.
Insulted, I verbally floated the idea around the dugout that I should leave the team in protest. I asked Reagan, in a show of solidarity, if he would consider walking off the team with me. Reagan replied, “No, with you gone, I’ll get to pitch.” I understand that Reagan is preaching the gospel now, which is nice. I think it also says something about the Lord having a good sense of humor.
Reagan’s oldest sister Ramona, or Mona Kay, as anyone who grew up in Dubach would still call her, is a certified hoot. I think she married John Lane Wilson shortly after she got her temporary driver’s license.
She came back to our high school when I was a senior to do her student teaching. She asked us to please, please, call her Ms. Wilson in the classroom instead of Mona Kay. It was a hard habit to break, but since she was an old married lady and all by then, we cut her some slack.
Mona Kay’s baby sister is Lisa Jane Whitard. She works at the bank in Dubach. Her son Jared Whitard is the Marine in the picture. He’s now serving his second tour in Iraq. I try to stop by the bank and visit with Lisa Jane every time I’m in town. She told me once that some of the stories I’ve written about people I knew who served in the military made her cry. Now I know why. They reminded her of Jared.
I can’t imagine how it feels to see a loved one go off in harm’s way. I asked Lisa Jane Whitard if she could one day write about that experience. She said maybe one day, but for now, the emotions are still too raw. I understand.
I also understand why Marines are special. I’ve got three very good friends who are former Marines – John Ciruti, John White, and Doug Champagne. Ciruti taught me to never refer to anyone as an ex-Marine because there’s no such thing. There’s only former-Marines. Once a Marine; ALWAYS a Marine.
So the cousin I’ve never met, Jared Whitard, part Colvin, part Pendergrass, all parts Marine, has again joined the long line of the few and the proud. I hope that you’ll join me in saying a prayer for his safe return and for all those who serve our country.
Randy lives in Minden. He can be reached at planorand@yahoo.com.