Our father lived a long and remarkable life, a life that he enjoyed to the fullest and wasted little time questioning---taking events the way they came. Ten years ago there was an obituary in the local paper for Dr. George Young. THAT George was a South Pittsburg optometrist and a friend of Dad's. Unfortunately, the next issue of the local Medical Society bulletin ran DAD'S photo with the death notice! A number of friends called, expressing great sadness-and surprise when Dad answered the phone. Of course the Medical Society was criticized for the mistake. Dad could have demanded a retraction and apology. Typical of his nature, he told the Society not to worry-just to print a small correction quoting Mark Twain: "The reports of my demise are GREATLY exaggerated!" I really feel quite WELL! That was so typical of Dad-he looked at everything with a sunny disposition and unquenchable optimism.

He was born at home in what was called "the big house" on the main road through West Armurchee Valley, 10 miles east of Lafayette Georgia. His great grandfather, Col. James Young had driven the first covered wagon into the valley in 1837. James young son Francis, Dad's grandfather, later became a Confederate captain with Georgia's 23 Infantry. In fact, both of Dad's grandfathers were Confederate captains.

Dad was the youngest of five sons-and he also had two sisters. The boys worked the 1400 acre-farm and my uncles got to do the plowing. As the youngest boy, Dad got the hoe. Weeding, chopping and picking fell to him. He always loved to tell the story of how he got so good at snatching cotton-he could pull in 150# in one day.

Despite growing up in the height of the Depression, Dad always described his childhood as happy and secure---eating sorghum, oranges in his Christmas stocking, fried chicken breakfasts on Sunday mornings before church. But times were hard-and country schools were not always able to get good teachers. So at 13, he left home, moving 200 miles away to Elberton Georgia. He lived there with his oldest brother, principal of an accredited high school, making entrance to college easier. Dad graduated from high school at the age of 15. He was Salutatorian of his class-and the title of his commencement address was: "The Elevator to Success is NOT Running: Take the Stairs!" It was a theme he followed all his life- charging up the stairs, conquering obstacles, always finding a way to succeed.

From high school Dad entered Berry College, a notable school founded by Martha Berry and financially supported by Henry Ford and other benefactors to educate the farm children of North Georgia. Dad loved that school and was a great supporter all his life. It operated like a work-study program. His first job was digging a septic line to Miss Berry's house. Other manual labor followed, including mucking out the barn and making building bricks. He never wrote a college tuition check for me or my sisters without reminding us that HE financed college by forging bricks in the blistering heat of Georgia summer.

He left Berry College to go to Athens, where he attended the University of Georgia, entering the Medical College of Georgia at the age of 19. Medical school tuition was $600/year, paid for by loans from his brothers. His brother John had little confidence in Dad's potential----and took out a life insurance policy on Dad to protect his investment.

Dad was a member of that dwindling "Great Generation" we hear so much about-those who endured the Depression and came out stronger for it, who pulled together in wartime to save the country from tyranny, who worked hard and often denied themselves so that their children and generations to come might have a better world. He served as surgeon in the Army Medical Corps for what must have seemed like an eternity-from 1940-1946. He was an officer in the South Pacific and took part in the Philippine Invasion of Leyte Island. He was awarded the Bronze Star for meritorious service, operating under enemy fire for 72 hours nonstop as chief surgeon with a portable surgical hospital attached to an infantry regiment. The citation read:

"His high degree of surgical skill and constant attention to duty were at all times an inspiration to his assistants, and contributed materially to the efficient and rapid care of casualties". His patients were largely American servicemen, but included Japanese soldiers and civilians as well-including numbers of Philippino children.

He came to Chattanooga as an intern at Erlanger Hospital-another institution near and dear to his heart for almost 70 years. Over the years, he served as Chief of Surgery and Chief of Staff at most of the area hospitals-and he was on Erlanger's Board of Trustees.
Many nurses around town who remember Dad in his prime refer to him as Dr. Sunshine. Unlike some of his temperamental peers who barked orders and flung Operating Room instruments across the floor, Dad always treated nurses and ALL hospital staff-in fact, people in general-with kindness. He cared deeply for his patients. As children, we would make Sunday "rounds" at the hospitals with him after church, learning what he did, absorbing the hospital culture. One evening on the way to a symphony concert, Dad and I stopped by the hospital to see a patient he had operated on that afternoon for a breast lump. At that time, women did not know the diagnosis before surgery-if they would wake up to news they had breast cancer and mastectomy. A frozen section biopsy was performed in surgery to determine if the lump was malignant. I will never forget Dad's compassion that night as he quietly discussed with the patient the outcome, his optimism about her survival, his assurance that he would be there to see her through. Over this past week we have heard over and over again: "Your Dad. He was my hero".

It is no surprise that four out of five of us became nurses-influenced also by our mother Irene whom Dad had met as an Army nurse. Honestly, we were all relieved when Maggie majored in art and psychology. It gave us something else to talk about around the dinner table.

Dad enjoyed so many things in life-Georgia football, trips all over the world, weekly golf games, fishing and playing poker in Steinhatchie, Florida, jogging and later two-mile daily walks at Heritage Landing. He was an avid reader with an inquisitive mind-even getting a video eye television system so he could continue reading as he began to lose vision to macular degeneration.

He loved Kiwanis and the work he did and relationships he sustained for over 50 years meant the world to him. He raised funds tirelessly for world-wide efforts to end Iodine Deficiency Disease-and was a significant personal donor. He rarely missed a local, regional or international event and had 53 years of perfect attendance at Brainerd Kiwanis. This summer we went to his 32nd consecutive Kiwanis International Convention in Hawaii together-he wouldn't miss it. He also continued his legacy this summer as the King of Kiwanis Barbecue-selling almost 1,000 tickets. He had many regular customers, cajoled others, twisted a few arms and made many personal deliveries. People were calling as recently as last week to see if he still had a pound or two in his freezer they could have.

He loved his country and was the most patriotic man I have ever met. He enjoyed parades and national holidays and televised concerts from the Capitol. I still can remember as a child of six, going to a parade for General MacArthur in Boston, Dad busting his buttons with pride for having had a chance to serve under him in the South Pacific. He always had a flag flying from his home-I have three back-up flags waiting at my own home-all gifts from Dad.

He loved his church. He was a member here for 45 years and I don't think you opened the doors too often without him coming through. One of the great mysteries is how he convinced Bettye to come over from First Baptist when they got married. He was so grateful they could work that out. He simply could not imagine himself leaving the Brainerd Methodist community. As a member of the Friendship Class here, he is known among other things for celebrating Georgia football victories by dropping a small donation into the "Happiness Collection", saying "I'm happy Georgia won yesterday!" The members of that class he counted among his closest friends-a source of inspiration and support and joy.

He loved his family-every single one of us. We were privileged to be in his life for close to 90 years. We felt his love and loyalty to us. He was such a presence in our lives.

And he loved his God. He read the Bible every day of his adult life-or Bettye read it to him as vision failed. He never had any doubt that he came from God and would return to God some day. He faced his short illness with courage and grace, unused to being on the receiving end of health care, but valiant and cooperative, always a fighter. Although these last days were very hard for Dad, he was never afraid, never complained, and remained stubbornly focused on business as usual. The day he received the catastrophic diagnosis of inoperable cancer, he returned home for some family time, rested a bit-then headed out to a monthly dinner meeting. Never one to miss out on opportunities for fellowship-or a free meal-he did as much as he could for as long as he could. We love him for leaving this life as he lived it-with honor and courage, humor and spirit. He meant the world to us-and we will miss him forever.