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| Homer and Maude Hudson |
For a quarter of a century, our family used to meet at his small farm in Tipton, Missouri for our annual reunion. Now, that may sound like an "Oh well, it's just a reunion," to you, but it's not. Tipton was magic to us. Homer had a horse and cart, he always had the tire swing ready to go, the yard was immaculate, he had a go-cart made from spare parts that we kids used to fight over (Homer would scold us for that, and organize us into a line.), and it was always the most fun weekend of the year for us. He saw to it. The trains ran by their yard, we would put pennies on the track and when our folks weren't looking, throw apples from Homer's orchard at the passing train cars. (The one time I did it, Dad caught me.) Homer had a penny that he had put on the track over and over and over. It looked like one that had been put in a machine. He knew how to keep us entertained.
One year Mom and I were playing badminton, which of course Homer had set up before anyone arrived. The sun was starting to set, so we were playing the last few points. The game was up by the front porch, and lo and behold, Homer stood on the porch rail, and set up a hanging light bulb so we could finish the game and play as long as we wanted. Everyone was aghast, as he was in his eighties at the time. Personally, I thought it was pretty darn neat. Homer was never going to get old, and he was proving it. People were telling him to get down before he got hurt, and to this day, I remember his reply: "I've been doing this all my life. The day I don't, I might as well die." He was only in his mid-eighties. Later that summer, he picked the hottest day of the year to get up on a tin roof to paint it.
Homer and Maude raised my grandfather, Harry Hudson. All of the morals and common sense he had - which was a lot - he got from them. One of my grandfather's favorite stories was of the time he spilled his milk glass at the dinner table and Homer chastised him for it. In doing so, he shook his hand - and knocked over his own milk glass.
Homer worked for the highway department, farmed, and was the school janitor. He could put anything together, and over the years, became the most loved man in Tipton. His brother Richard was a fine man and very well off, but Homer was the person in town that people cherished.
At the last reunion, Homer, who was in the artillery during the First World War, showed us a lamp he had made from artillery shells. He then told us how he had been asked to speak to a class on the war. Being the person that he was, he studied up on it. Going to school in his uniform - which still fit - he started his presentation, and before he could even get into it, class ended. The teacher told him to keep going as the next class came in, and he went on. All of a sudden, school's over and he wasn't finished. Homer wound up talking to the entire school for three days, and the kids were enthralled. Had we known about it, we would have been there.
Homer and Maude eventually sold the farm and moved into a retirement center. In no time at all, Homer was in a wheelchair and passed away. His words as he was putting up the lightbulb came back to me. I have three of his hats, and when I look at them, I remember a Godly, hard-working man who cared very much for his family and to this day assists me:
Once when I was complaining about being a janitor my father merely said, "Uncle Homer was a janitor." Nothing more needed to be said." Every so often, someone will come up to me and ask why I do what I do. They'll point out I have a college education, etc., and ask why I'm not doing something else. I just state the most remarkable man I ever knew was a janitor and I'm not even a patch on his sleeve. If it was good enough for him, it's good enough for me.
Thanks for the lesson, Uncle Homer.
Aw, I loved Uncle Homer. I just wish we had tape recorded some of his stories about the war and growing up. That would be priceless now!
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