the one and only randy

 

There are so many Randys in Thomasville it should be called Randyville. But for me, there was only one. My Randy was the one with the heart big enough for anybody, whether you came from his country or a foreign one, whether you were light or dark, city or rural, no matter your beliefs. If you were in need, he was there to help. He never met a stranger, and he took everyone in and trusted everyone—until you lied, cheated or stole, and then his wrath was terrible. He liked to say that he was a member of the Hatfield family, of the feuding Hatfields and McCoys, which I guess could account for the wrath!

   I wouldn’t have lasted in Thomasville without him. He helped me with my well, my electricity, my air conditioner, carpentry, repairs—and was a hero during the flood. But most of all, by accepting me, a liberal citygirl outsider, he caused the rest of the town to accept me as well. He was my foot in the door. More: He held the door open for me. That’s the kind of heart he had. And that’s the reason he has friends all over the world.

   He loved his town, his neighbors, his animals, his children and grandchildren, but most of all he loved his Baby. “I robbed the cradle,” he liked to say. He wanted her next to him most of the time. “I have to get my helper,” he’d say. I don’t know if he and Virginia ever quarreled, but I certainly never saw it. All I ever saw was love, on both of their parts.

    I don’t know what his turkey is going to do without him. There was always an animal following him around, his rooster, his little dog, most recently the turkey. 

 

 I really don’t know what any of us are going to do without him.