October 18, 2005
Honor
William Isaac's namesake passed away Saturday night. Sergeant Major William Stroup lost both parents as a child and spent part of his childhood in an orphanage and foster homes. He parachuted into Normandy at age 24, killed people who needed killing, saw his friends cut down around him. He raised four children, one of whom was kind enough to have my future wife.
My wife has always been a good judge of character (with one exception) and he was one of her favorite people. As we prepare for his funeral I find myself wondering: how did he capture the heart of a little girl so completely, the heart now in my hands, the heart I've often mishandled? The answer, I think, is that he always believed her, he always made her feel safe, and he never let her leave his sight without telling her she was loved.
It's humbling to think on, and it's my prayer, in between prayers for the wife and children and grandchildren and friends now mourning him, that the same can be said of me one day. And Lord please give me the time to get there, and forgive the time I've wasted.
In her grandfather's final weeks my wife and children spent a lot of time with him while I worked in DC. Though he was worn down and in pain from the cancer that finally took him, he would sit at the organ and play and sing for the boys. Isaac was responsible for some of his last smiles, and he was responsible for many of Isaac's first smiles. I have no idea what they'll look like when we're all on the other side of the veil, but I'm sure I'll recognize them from the crooning.
Every few years he would drive across country for a reunion with the survivors of his battalion, and now their dwindling numbers are one smaller. He never had a big house or expensive car, and like most of us he had no fame. But he did his part to banish some of the darkness from the world for a time. He will be dearly missed by everyone who knew him. Would that the same could be said of all of us once we've departed this earth.
Go with God, Bill, rejoice in your new life. And try not to hog the piano up there.
Posted by Woodlief on October 18, 2005 at 01:26 PM
"Isaac was responsible for some of his last smiles, and he was responsible for many of Isaac's first smiles."
I LOVE this picture of laughter crossing many generations. What a small, yet beautiful and poignant thing to write about.
Posted by: Danielle at October 18, 2005 2:29 PM
My condolences to you and your family, Tony. As always, you paid a nice tribute right there.
Your site, and your writing, is such a shining light in the vast field of dreck that is the "blogging world". Most of it is so disposable, so ephemeral.
Your writing hits me in places that need hitting.
I always know that, before clicking over to your site, I'll feel better after reading it than I did before. I want to say Thank You, for that.
Posted by: Jeff Brokaw at October 18, 2005 2:36 PM
I'm sorry to hear about your loss and pray that the Lord will comfort you and your family.
"... he always believed her, he always made her feel safe, and he never let her leave his sight without telling her she was loved."
That sentence above describes what Jesus does for us. If we can become more like Him, then the same can be said about us.
Posted by: MarcV at October 18, 2005 3:17 PM
How lucky he was to have someone with your talent eulogize him! What a wonderful tribute. I know your wife is so proud of you.
Posted by: Bettye Forster at October 18, 2005 4:36 PM
I love southern writers. "He needed killin" is, of course, one of the recognized legitimate defenses in court when you grow up south of the Mason Dixon. I've met some of this man's ilk. The non-plussed delivery of the facts adds credulity to the stories they tell. I'm sure we are all poorer for his passing.
Posted by: yoda at October 18, 2005 10:53 PM
awwww.
in the desert of the real yet again, i sit, tears soaking into the sand.
i raise my eyes to the sky and say to god:
right now i'm really jealous that you know this gentleman and i don't....yet. :)
go with god, sir. and god speed.
((((tony and family))))
Posted by: MMM at October 18, 2005 11:02 PM
Tony,
You are such a joy to read and your writing touches my soul without fail. I have never posted back to you, but you have had a profound effect on me to the point that I continuously recommend your site as the template upon which bloggers should rely for success.
You hit the nail on the head in hoping to be recognized for just being you and bringing joy to others lives. I've heard it said that we would be measured as having made a difference if our great-grandchildren could recount something profound from our lives.
As a final thought from a third-generation Paratrooper (grandfather-WWII, father-Vietnam, self-Grenada, Desert Shield, Iraqi Freedom), we all hope to stand before the great Jumpmaster in the sky and hear the words "well done, my good and faithful servant". You can rest assured that he heard those words as he entered in and chances are, there are more than enough pianos to go around up there.
Posted by: Scott at October 19, 2005 8:51 AM
Tony and family, How wonderful the honor you've given your grandfather!! I can't think of much better in the world than recognizing the value in the life of an old person, and letting them know how we feel. Thank you for this!
Posted by: Katy Raymond at October 19, 2005 5:35 PM
Tony, I truely as sorry for your loss, especially since SGTM Stroup was a decent and honorable man. I realise again, that at the end, whether one has a lot of money, or a fancy car, it matters not a whit. It is whether or not, one can became a decent, honorable, brave person like SSGTM Stroup that is important. Nothing else really matters.
Posted by: sid at October 22, 2005 5:31 PM
