Resources | Memoriam by Bill Robinson: Buddy Creal (my Dad) passed 8/20/2008 |
| Wednesday, 20 August 2008 | |||||||
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By Bill Robinson formerly of the AJC, LaFayette Sun, 8/20/2008: The Man who elected Sam Nunn:George (Buddy) Creal demonstrated genius in huge upset. Viewing at Patterson Funeral Home at Spring and 10th Street Friday August 23, 2008 6 pm to 8 pm and Memorial Service North Avenue Presbyterian Church Sat, Aug 23, 2008 at 11 am.
(First of two parts.) Little George Creal walked in short steps ahead of his father and mother. He was knee-high-to-nuthin', little George was, so we slowed our gait to half-match his. We had just left the Creal home on Clifton Road, exercising an almost daily ritual for the Creal family. Buddy, the father, and Wynn, the mother, took Little George to Emory Village. There they visited Everybody's Pizza ... or, was it Jaggers? ... well, anyway, to the place where they had "square pizza," just like the original way back over there in Italy ... a long, long time ago. Now, well, Buddy has come full circle. He is in a hospice, a place called Wesley Woods. It is near the Emory University campus. Buddy, 72, has terminal lung cancer. His father was in Wesley Woods twenty years ago. And I attended the senior Creal's funeral. It doesn't seem like that long ago. Buddy is George Chadwell Creal. His father possessed the same name with the exception of the miiddle name Gaines. The Creal family is from Culpeper, in Virginia. The small red-brick building still sits alongside the old Culpeper Courthouse. This is where General Ulyses Grant made his headquarters before beginning The Battle of the Wilderness campaign. It was fateful and fatal (to the South). It seems like Buddy Creal has always lived around the scenes of old wars and old politics. In 1972 Buddy was an adviser to Sam Nunn, a youngster (only 33) with the high ambition to be a U.S. Senator from Georgia. Buddy brought me on board as a consultant. But I soon was Nunn's press secretary. Buddy's mother had headed the office of Sen. Herman Talmadge for years, both in Atlanta when Herman was Georgia's govenor, and later in Washington. Buddy Creal was raised in politics. And he loved it, oh how he loved a good old-fashioned, give 'em hell campaign ... and especially one in the Deep South. Buddy learned a valuable lesson when he was 8-years-old. He was running around the Talmadge swimming pool down at the old home place in Lovejoy, and he was making high fun of Senator Hubert Humphrey. Nothing nasty, but just hostile to the man from Minnesota. Betty Talmadge pulled him aside, and in a soft but firm voice, she said, "Now Buddy, Senator Humphrey is a NICE man!" Buddy was a fast learner. The two senators, while not public friends, were privately were working on important agricultural, forestry and financial legistlation. Buddy Creal, with the help of Sen. Talmadge, helped fashion the campaign of young Sam Nunn. Jimmy Carter was Georgia's governor. He backed David Gambrell, because he had appointed the young lawyer to the U.S. Senate to replace the legendary Sen. Richard B. Russell, who had died 1 1/2 years before ... after having served 38-plus years in Washington. Former Gov. Earnest Vandiver was angered; Carter, he said privately, had promised to appoint him to the Senate ... that is, if Sen. Russell died while in office. He mounted a campaign for the Senate. We would joke, sometime cruelly, that the "Van Wagon," the name of Vandiver's campaign vehicle, was headed for the nearest nursing home ...that is, when we crossed paths with the former governor. Gambrell's father was E. Smyth Gambrell. The law school building at Emory U. bore E. Smyth Gambrell's name. At this point in time, Eastern Airlines, was every bit as large as Delta, Atlanta's adopted darling of the air. E. Smyth was the third largest stockholder in Eastern. By then, in mid-camaign, we had prospered enough to have our own small airplane. "You better duck, Bill," said Sam, as we flew far under the a huge Eastern airliner, "that big plane is probably armed." Oh, but we did have fun; one time in Quitman, way down on the Florida line, we were in an old-fashioned little white motel. We were ready for bed when Sam Nunn said, "Cut that durn overhead light off, Bill." "I will not," I said, "not until you tell me what that 'A' stands for in your middle name." After much haggling, Nunn said, "Durn you ... it stands for Augustus. Now cut the light off." I said, "That's great, Sam ... six years from now, you can become Emperor Augustus." Sam sort of laughed. But we were exhausted, like on so many days and nights. Our smallish plane on the next morning seemed to barely lift above the tall, tall pines ... the plane's silver belly scraped against the needles, sending dust drifting slowly away. The Perils of Pauline, and running for a high seat in Washington. (To be continued.) To Read the Obituary and Eulogy Click Read More
The Eulogy of Buddy Creal
A Closing Argument for God: Faith and Love in the Face of the Death of my Father
These the notes for the Eulogy of my Father. The actual delivery was a little different. Some points were added and others deleted. Friendship and Fellowship prevented me from giving it from memory as I prefer not to speak with notes. My Dad was diagnosed with Lung Cancer two years ago. We visited in March and he seemed to be doing pretty well. In June, he called me from the hospital and told me that he had collapsed coming into the hospital for his cancer treatments as a result of atrial fibrillation and shortness of breath. He had been in the hospital for 5 days and hadn't called me. The doctors had removed fluid from his chest cavity. Dad was living in Dallas and we had been trying to convince him to move back but he stubbornly refused and so did I. He wanted to do it his way and I wanted to do it my way. I guess the nut hadn't fallen far from the old a'corn tree after all. His extended exile in Texas had been a point of contention. I resolved that I would drive out to Texas to convince him to return. I determined that I wouldn't do it my way that I would just follow God's will. I would do it God's way. What I thought would be an odyssey of disagreement and disappointment turned out to be a journey of redemption and remembrance.
Trust in God with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding, acknowledge him in all your ways, and he will make your path straight. Proverbs 3:6. My paths were made straight and my yoke was easy.
I arrived in Dallas after a 15 hour drive. He showed me his world. We talked. We laughed. We reminisced. He was proud of his adopted town. He immediately decided that a return to Atlanta was the right choice after reading cards from his grand daughters Claudia and Ella. We began our journey back to Atlanta. We had lots of time to talk and recount the days of my idyllic childhood on Clifton Road. I had a creek, a wood, lots of imagination and friends to share it with. We laughed about the old days on Clifton. How I used to shake his beers up, surf fishing in Gulf Shores, about Hortons' Soda Fountain and ordering Banana Splits from Rosie, about Grandpa's goofy smile and dry wit. We spent a magical morning touring the Vicksburg Battlefield Monument early on Friday morning on my birthday. None of this was planned by Man. God had planned this trip long before the birth of man's time. Dad had given me some sage advice as a young parent. That was you only get once chance to be a parent, to not sleep with a crying baby, to change dirty diapers, to get spit up on, to sooth after a nightmare, to tend to a fever, and to kiss a bruised knee. There are no second chances, no replays or redos. He was right. You also only get one chance to be with your father as he is dying of cancer. So we took some extra time to tour the Vicksburg National Battlefield Monument. There wouldn't be a second chance.
Buddy was a man of passion and enthusiasm. He was gifted at almost anything he attempted. He was a natural athlete. He was an excellent tennis player and encouraged me to play. He was an accomplished photographer. We had a dark room in our basement and we would spend hours developing black and white photographs together. I would tag along on his photography assignments. When he decided to get a bird dog, he studied the breeds. He bought all the gear, read all the books, and immersed himself in bird dog culture. In his professional life, he would get a new client and in a matter of weeks would immerse himself in the subject and literally become an expert. He was a brilliant writer. If I told him I wanted to go caving, in a few weeks I would find my self hundreds of feet under the earth squeezing through a crevice in a cave in Alabama. He was the most talented person I've ever known.
Buddy had the heart of a tiger but the spirit of a lamb. I mean that literally. The Radiology Techs couldn't stop talking the strength and vigor of heart on the sonogram. He was irrepressible presence. Always positive in the face of adversity. Always quick with a joke, a permanent smile and a out stretched hand. He was the champion of the underdog, far from a fair weather friend, he was the kind of friend who appeared in the thick of a storm. He never flattered wealth or was a sycophant to the powerful. He would not hesitate to call a spade a spade. He had a heart for others. He was the kind of guy you called when your wife kicked you to the curb or in the pants and you needed a place to stay. Bill Robinson, one of my Dad's closest friends and an retired Atlanta Journal/Constitution Sportswriter, told me that he looked all over Alabama, the State of his birth, for a worthy position and a welcoming community and all he could find was a bus in Birmingham headed for Atlanta and it was because of people like Buddy Creal and Ralph McGill.
Not to say that he was a perfect person. He faced his share of adversity maybe more than his fair share, but always with an air of optimism. He would often warn me of those “narrow between the eyes.” He warned me never to let them get me down or see me sweat. Never let them crush your spirit. Just nice'm to death. It will drive them crazy he would say
He was an involved father. He was always there for camping, fishing, and running the Peachtree. Indian Guides, Cub Scouts, co-coaching the Medlock Mets t-ball team while I picked dandelions in the outfield like “Lupus” from the bad news bears. I even caught a pop-fly with my eyes closed, but that did not dampen his enthusiasm or discourage him. He was still my number one fan. He coached the Fernbank Celtics Soccer Team when no one else would. He went to the library and spent days pouring over soccer coaching manuals knowing nothing of the sport and consulting retired soccer professionals left in Atlanta after a failed professional soccer team.
When you are filled with the holy spirit dogmatic faith becomes dynamic action, his faith was marked by dynamic action not dogma. My Dad was a man of dynamic action.
His spirit fought valiantly, but the cancer would not relent. Within two weeks of moving into the Wesley Woods Towers after Three weeks in Atlanta, he was forced to retreat to the Emory Emergency Room, later to the hospital. He was discharged to the hospice in Bud Terrace at Wesley Woods.
I received a call at 6:45 on the morning after he arrived in hospice that his breathing had changed and his color was poor. On the way to the nursing home at 7:10 am on 8/20/2008, a song by Bob Mould, See a Little Light came on the radio. The Lyrics resonated like a message from beyond.
The Chorus repeating “I see a little light, I know you will” a total of seven times.
When I arrived at the nursing home, Dad has slipped into a coma. His breathing was labored. Casey arrived. As his last moments approached, I grasped his hand and kneeled at his bed. We told him we loved him repeatedly, I told him about of his friends that I had spoken to that were praying for him and wanted to come see him. Finally, I told him, “Dad, I love you, you done good, there is nothing holding you here, go in peace, you can be proud. Jesus is the light, Dad. He is waiting for you, He loves you. Go to the light, Dad. I love you. “ His eyes weld with tears and gentley rolled down his face. He was with God.
Far from having my faith shaken, this experience has strengthen my faith. I feel securely in God's hand. My paths were straight and my yoke was removed. My burden was light. This was not the duty of an only son. It was unconditional love of a son in relationship with his father. Who could ask for more.
John 1:5 A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
I would like to read to you from my second favorite Eulogy. My favorite Eulogy is the 22nd Psalm, sung by David one thousand years before Christ was born and four hundred years before the Persians invented Crucifixion as a means of torture and death. Likewise, my second favorite Eulogy was given by a man struck down by an assassins' bullet the following day. “Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” The next day, April 4, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was struck down by an assassin's bullet.
Life is God's Tapestry. Its strands are tightly woven and immovable. Nothing happens by chance. Everything has a purpose and is a means to a divine end. He knows our choices, whether he likes them or not, and knows the consequences of those choices; but, he weaves them into the fabric none-the-less despite the fact that we often blame him and turn from him when he does. He does not want to control us. He gives us free will, so when we love him it is real. My faith is not shaken. It has been reinforced. God communicates with us and provides signs in the details of the world around us, in nature, in the love and concern of family and friends, in the details and background noise of life. God's love is expressed by many voices but is one love. It is a love to the point of death on a cross so that others may have union with God.             |
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