Mama

I delivered this eulogy for our mother on November 10, 2008, in Paducah, Texas.  

     Kate Douglas Wiggin wrote:  "Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes, by dozens and hundreds.  Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, comrades and friends--but only one mother in the whole world."  This author was absolutely right when she penned those words you all would probably agree that everyone believes that their mother is most unique in the world.  Those of us who were blessed to experience the love of a mother know this to be true.  
     I must declare that Nita Parks was unique.  Katy and I count ourselves fortunate that we were allowed to follow in the wake she cut through life and, if we hung on, would experience the exuberance and excitement she would generate.  She had little tolerance for those who would sit back and not enjoy each day.  In the play, "Auntie Mame," Mame says, "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!"  That exemplifies Mom's attitude very well.  
     Juanita June Colgrove was born on June 25, 1921, in Dallas, Texas.  Soon after her birth her parents moved to the Schafer Ranch in the Panhandle just outside Pampa, Texas.  Her dad, Doc, was a colorful character who, through hard work and intelligence, managed to keep his family fed and clothed through the Depression.  Her mom, Lucy, was a Norman Rockwell mother and grandmother who worked just as hard as Doc and managed to raise their three children during those hard times.  Nita was a composite of these two personalities.  She had the hard headed stubbornness of her father and the practicality and loving ways of her mom.  When you look at Mom's genealogical tree you find women who were industrious, interesting and vital.  He maternal grandmother, Susan, told her stories of the Civil War days in Northern Alabama. Her mom, Lucy, was born on a mountain top somewhere in Arkansas as the young family was migrating from Alabama to East Texas.  Her paternal grandmother, Tabitha, came from Kentucky to East Texas.  Tabitha was in a wagon one day and a bird lit on her shoulder.  She called this a bad omen and, sure enough, passed away the next day.  Katy and I always thought that Mom had those same psychic abilities for she always knew when we were up to something.  Mom inherited many qualities of her ancestors and was an intricate patchwork quilt of those who preceded her.  We are the sum of many parts.  I love the definition of a family by an unknown author.  "Families are like fudge--mostly sweet with a few nuts."
     Mom readily admitted that she went to college, after graduating from White Deer High School, primarily to land a good husband.  While there she made the catch of the century.  Those of you who knew our father, Neal Parks, will attest to the fact that he was one of a kind.  He was the perfect foil for Mom.  I heard her father say that it was a good thing that Nita married Neal because he was the only one who could keep her in line.  Mom was never one to hold back what she thought and Dad was able to temper that with patience and love.  They had a wonderful journey together that ended much too soon.  
     "Into The Woods" is a musical that presents a journey through the woods as an analogy for life.  The premise is that life is not worth living unless one goes into the woods, confronts what is discovered and learns from all encounters.  One line in the show is particularly appropriate for Mom and Dad's journey.  A character sings, "Often someone leaves us, halfway through the woods."  Dad had to leave her halfway through the woods.  Mom stopped for a moment, grieved, made a reassessment and then continued her journey.  She not only made it through the woods she would revisit it many times and made it brighter by her presence.  As she began to conclude her journey she was joined by so many who cared for her and helped find the final path.  Mary and Batchie Rhodes loved her and were instrumental in making sure her journey was made easy.  Ida and Kenny Bragg were there lifting, tugging, loving and listening to all her tales.  Key Lehman showed her love for Mom in so many ways by helping clear the path ahead of her.  Brenda Truelock inspired, laughed, made things clear and walked along with her on this journey.  Mom's good friend, Barbara Hickman, was always there sharing the journey and being a good companion. Sherrie Nell and Ronnie Owens watched over her and made sure her final travels were trouble free.  Kim Moore tended to the land and was so kind to her because he knew how much she loved the farm.  There were so many others and include a large number of the people of this kind and wonderful town.  Rusty and Wanda Jones, Kenneth and Geneva Bragg, Bob and Joyce Scott.  Katy and I call them the "bunch," our extended family.  The saga of these four families, the Parks--the Braggs--the Jones--and the Scotts rivals the best novels.  Their exploits throughout the years of their friendship would fill volumes.  If you want to be entertained for a long time, ask Katy and me to tell you some stories.  You won't be disappointed.  
     As Mom continued her journey through the woods she found a new companion.  Her friend, Glen Bates, had lost his spouse as well and they found each other.  They embarked on a series of adventures of which we can only dream.  They spent many summers in Alaska fishing and seeing the wonders of that great state.  They would travel deep into Mexico for marvelous trips of discovery and excitement.  They traveled across the United States to a wide variety of locations and reveled in all their adventures.  They went to the northernmost point in the United States at Point Barrow, Alaska, to the southernmost at the Florida Keys.  They saw whales, puffins, fields of flax, the eagle of Jan Lake in Canada, national monuments, the migration of the Monarch butterflies and so many other wondrous sights.  They were never afraid to stray off the path in the woods and that is where they made so many exciting memories.  Those who knew Mom know that was a great story teller.  She was never hesitant to embroider it a bit, and that made it even better!  Their friendship made the road much smoother and certainly more exciting.  
     William Tammany wrote:  "You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around--and why the parents will always wave back."  Katy and I were the ones waving as Mom was on her merry-go-round.  We kissed her, bade her farewell and prayed that God would protect fools, fishermen and Texans.  We have never apologized for her, but merely rejoiced in the fact that she made life so exciting.  
     Tony Blake wrote in an essay on fly fishing that "some go to church and think about fishing, others go fishing and think about God."  That pretty well sums up Mom's belief.  Mom was Baptist to the bone, but the whole world was her cathedral.  The sounds of nature provided the choir and the mountains were the organ pipes.  The lakes and streams provided her communion and the fish she caught were her offerings. 
     No, Katy and I did not have an ordinary mother.  Our children did not have a stereotypical grandmother.  She was an extraordinary woman who could be exasperating and could leave us gasping in her wake.  She was a force to be reckoned with and loved life with an intensity that shamed us all.
     Before Mom's final descent in a world of fantasy and unreality, we were fortunate enough to catch her on the cusp of that finality.  She would talk to us and tell us the stories which would begin grounded in reality, but would end in fantasy.  Her powers of description became enormous and each story took on the proportions of a Cecil B. DeMille epic.  I asked her during this time to tell me about the most beautiful place she had ever seen.  I expected to hear about an Alaskan mountain or a Hawaiian beach.  She paused for the longest time and then began her story.  It began with a phrase familiar to anyone who has ever driven an RV.  This is what she told me.  
     "We were driving down a highway heading to, I can't quite remember where.  It was about lunch time and Glen just turned off and took off down this road."
     Most RV adventures begin in this manner.
     "He found a spot in a canyon with a lot of tall trees and there was the most beautiful river running through it.  He parked and said that this would be a good place to eat.  He wandered off to explore and I began to cook dinner.  Suddenly he returned and told me to hurry and come see a wonderful sight.  He pointed to the river.  There was a spray or mist rising from the water and the sun had broken through the crevasse of the valley and the trees.  The light created hundreds of rainbows in the mist and it was beautiful!  I told Glen to run down and find the pot of gold at the end of those rainbows!"
     "There were other people parked there to eat as well and all of them and Glen ran to the river, dancing through the rainbows and looking for that pot of gold.  That was a sight to see!  Glen and all the others laughing and dancing through the rainbows was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen."
     Where did the fact stop and the fantasy begin?  It's not important that we know that.  What is important was, at that moment, it was what she was seeing in her mind.  She had shared with us a moment of her journey through the woods and we felt blessed to have shared it with her.
     The morning we were leaving to return to El Paso on that particular visit Mom summoned me and asked me to go to where she kept her fishing rods and find a long rod that had the word "Kenai" printed on it.  I had no idea if this was another one of her flights of fancy, but I stopped what I was doing and did as she asked.  I brought several and she examined them all.  These were not the ones and when I went back to look, sure enough, there was a rod with the words "Kenai King" written on it.  This is the rod.  
     She took the rod in her hands and told us all to sit down because she had a story to tell.  This is a true story, which I had heard in bits and pieces many times, but never with this intensity.  George Deaton can verify this because he was present on this fishing trip.
     George, Glen and Mom had been float rising for King salmon on the Kenai river  Their guide was a young man named Robert Johnson who, along with his wife Laurie, had adopted Mom and Glenn during all their trips there.  He would row the boat and maneuver it as they progressed down the wild river to help them land the big fish.  He had asked Mom if she wanted to catch one of the big ones and she stated that she certainly did.  He told her that she would have to spend some money and buy a special rod so she could handle the big ones.  She said it cost her $165, buy she shelled it out.  With the new rod in hand on this particular day the intrepid fishermen took off.  Mom caught a pretty good sized fish, but Robert told her to throw it back.  She did as he asked.  Glen and George caught their big ones and were waiting for Mom to come up with her catch as the limit for these fish was one a day.  Robert told her to cast over in a particular location and suddenly her line tightened, the pole bent as it should and the fight was on!  Now keep in mind they were floating down the Kenai River lined by a multitude of salmon fisherman along the bank.  Most knew Mom and as they floated past them they all shouted out words of encouragement.
     "Hold on, Tex!"  
     "Lasso that fish!"
They kept floating down the river and soon they were floating through the town.  They passed a McDonald's and a J.C. Penny's and kept going  She said it was like a parade!  Soon they were in the wilderness and Robert was able to maneuver the boat into a small tributary and tie up.  George had told her to give the pole to Glen or she would lose the fish.  She told them if they touched that pole they would find themselves in the river.  Robert took a rope from the boat, lassoed the fish and tied it to a tree.  His wife, Laurie, had been following them in their car.  He hauled the fish in, put it in the back seat and off they went to the official weigh in station.  As they weighed the fish Mom adopted a prayerful attitude and Laurie asked for what she was praying.  She told her that she praying that this fish would be at least 2 pounds heavier than Glen's fish and it was!  The fish was longer than she was tall and we have picture proof of it.
     That's our Mom.  She was always in the parade and her fish was always the biggest.  She sparkled and charmed people all across this land.
     I want to end with a quote I used when I spoke at her sister's funeral.  Pat was an avid fisherman as well and I found it apropos.  
     Norman Maclean wrote this in his novel, A River Runs Through It.
     "Eventually all things merge into one and a river runs through it.  The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time.  On some rocks are timeless raindrops.  Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs."
    Thank you, Paducah.  Thank you, friends and relatives.  God bless you and all your families.