All he wanted to do was make it to his 80th birthday. Carlson had been a sick man for a long time. The career ending illness some 30 years ago left him with weakened strength and lessening agility. But it didn’t slow down the man that Carlson was, until last Wednesday morning.
He was a man of integrity. He often stated, “If everyone would keep the Ten Commandments, then I would have been out of a job a long time ago.” See, Carlson was a Georgia State Patrolman, having served 18 years on the force. He was also an agent for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and sheriff of Emanuel County. He took his law enforcement duties seriously, even when it came to members of his own family. It would have been much easier on a certain cousin if he had been escorted back to Georgia by any other law officer other than his Uncle Charlie.
Husband, Dad, Grand-dad, Great Grand-dad. - that is how they described him yesterday during the funeral. Deacon, Sunday School teacher, Friend – they listed those titles also. But I knew him as the last of his generation of the family. We watched as his sister Jackie lost the battle with
COPD some 4 years ago. We were shocked when brother Glenn tripped on a rough spot in the sidewalk as he left the dentist office, never to fully recover. That was two summers ago.
So as the elder sage of the Brown family, he would constantly check on the rest of the clan. Either by phone call or email, the households on the family farm were contacted weekly. It was Friday morning and I somehow knew something was not right. I was driving back down the red clay road and slowed down in front of the house where Carlson was born and where he played as a youngun’. I came to a complete stop and from the field on the opposite side of the road, out stepped a beautiful White Tail doe. She paused for a moment, looked square at me in the truck and then bounded into the thicket behind the old barn. Less than 12 hours later, Carlson would take his last breath.
Saturday and Sunday spent with Dot and the rest of the family.
The funeral service Monday at 11:00 was simple. A song was played on the piano as the family entered the sanctuary. A member of Men’s Class spoke of what Charlie meant to them.
Amazing Grace was sung by the music director. The current and past Pastor for Vidalia First Baptist each told of Charlie’s love for his Lord, his family and his many friends.
The photos in the foyer of the church were of three different men.
-The young Navy sailor, with innocence and mischief beaming from his eyes.
-The Patrolman, with stern look of authority chiseled on the handsome face.
-The Grand-Dad, with gentleness and love that is seen in the smile of a patriarch
Carlson was all three of these men.
As we arrived at the cemetery, seven G.S.P. cars lined the drive to the north of the tent where the hearse was to stop.
O, Danny Boy was being played on the bagpipes as the family arrived. I made my way to Dot’s door and extended my hand to her and she latched on to my arm as we walked to the chairs under the tent. As she was seated, I took a chair behind her. Scriptures from 1st Thessalonians were read and prayer said,
Amazing Grace echoed in the Georgia pines. The six member Honor Guard from the G.S.P. marched to the foot of the casket and undraped the flag. As the final chord resounded from the bagpipe, the final tuck was made in the flag. The officer inspected the flag and presented it to Sergeant Collins. Sergeant Collins kneeled in front of Dot.
“On behalf of the Governor of the great state of Georgia and the people of a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your husband rendered this state.”
With tears streaming down my cheeks,
similar words resounded in my head as I was taken back 7 months to a cold and windy day when my Dad’s flag was presented to me at Bethany Cemetery.
Carlson, thank you. Whatever you did, you did to the point of completion! Tomatoes vines as high as my head stand in the yard behind the garage. As I stop in the afternoons in the coming weeks to check on Dot, the dozen or so Better Boy tomato plants will be a reminding testimony of your pride you took even in the simple things of life. To this, I aspire for myself...
80 years, 40 days. Mission accomplished, Carlson!
