The Office

 The office

Johnclarestokes 

I used to love to visit my fathers office at the First United Methodist Church in Wiliston and just sit and look at the photographs of people I had known all my life. There were the turkey feet paper holders he made from the gobblers he loved to hunt. The large fish hook from his deep sea fishing with Fred Benton in Panacea and his symbol as a fisher of men, the bald is beautiful sign I thought so funny in the day before I followed suit. My father was appointed to Williston from 1967 to 1977, having returned to the Florida Conference after being the Alumni director and head of Public Relations at Asbury college, his ala mater n Wilmore, Kentucky.  Williston, next to Crawfordville was the closest place to what we would call home, my brother Lewis calling Williston his hometown to this day.  When we had my mothers funeral in the sanctuary a few years ago, where now what was once my fathers office was then the choir robe room and elevator entrance. Long time church secretary Nancy Whitehurst Etheridge told me it was now the ushers room. I told her Hank Radasky and Orville Wheeler, ushers when we were in Williston would like that.  Walking in,I thought I heard Mrs Gutekunst his secretary asking what it was I wanted. I wanted nothing more than to pause and recall again Pappy Whitehurst and the chapel in his wifes honor, Dutch Fisher of Berry, Kentucky loving his Cincinnati Reds, leading singing at my fathers early revivals, Bishop John Branscomb of who I was named, Dr  Zachary Taylor Johnson, the great friend and college President of Asbury, Rev Paul Stoneking his best college friend, hold Bobo our dog in Monticello again, see Goliath beneath the desk, hear the IBM selectric with the ball font  humming a letter, recall Methodist Bishop Joel McDavid's visit, the Spradlins of Boyd, his first church, see the photo of his first deer in the Apalachcola forest with Moody Pearce of Crawfordville, Lewis winning the Levy Bicentinnal logo contest and read again the greatest story ever told I illustrated one Christmas for my father, making it to the highest point upon the now empty office wall. But the rotary phone rings, no, its the iphone and I have lingered too long and we must....we must....always we must.