It came as quite a blow to the Boy and me when we learned that Sherman had died. I know there are many in the county who didn’t know him, but he was a fixture around McKee. There is a good chance you saw him at every Christmas Parade and Tree Lighting. He would always come dressed up for the season and pass out candy to the children.
The Boy and I live out New Zion ridge, so we would pass right by the road Sherman lived on as we traveled to work each day. It wasn’t unusual to see Sherman walking to town when he was between vehicles, which seemed to be more often than not. We would always stop and give him a ride to town when we saw him. Sherman lived a solitary life when it came to home, but he was not a solitary person in any other way. The reason he would be walking to town was quite often to go visiting, to see people, and to talk to them. He’d stop by Dairy Queen or Lakes Funeral Home or travel to the Senior Center, among other places, all with the purpose of being in the company of others.
Sherman loved people, and people loved Sherman. We loved Sherman, and our trips to town will be marked by his absence. We had just given him a ride to town the Friday before his passing. They were predicting bitter cold weather for the coming week, and we told him he didn’t need to be out walking in that kind of weather. We talked about how he’d been doing, and he told us he had a peacock feather for both of us as soon as he could find them. That’s another thing about Sherman, he didn’t have much, but he always wanted to give to others. He knew I liked strange or interesting rocks, so when he’d find one he thought I would like, he would bring it to me. I think he was constantly thinking of other people, and I like to think that other people were thinking of him as well. I know we were, and as we passed by Lakes Funeral Home on our way to lunch today, the parking lot was full during his visitation, so we know there were many there to see him on his way. We intended to go, but I chickened out. The idea of seeing him in death was more than I could bear at the time. I will remember him always as he was in life, a good, dear soul who had a heart of gold, and that was much more important than any gold that might be held by others.
He loved to dress up and never missed an occasion to put on a costume of some kind. He might be the Grinch one day and a cowboy the next. Dressing up for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or just about any occasion brought him joy, and there is no doubt he brought smiles to the faces of others, especially children, when he would sport a new look. He would often stop by the paper and get us to take a picture of him in his latest getup. We were always happy to see him and happy to oblige.
To say that we will miss him is an understatement. Today, on the way to work, I imagined his spirit was walking down the road, and we stopped to pick him up. I said, “How you doing Sherman?” though I knew he was gone and I imagined what he would say back. “I’m good, youngun, (he always called us younguns, though we were a bit older than his 60 years) “Are you cold?” I said. “Do you want a ride?” “No,” he said, “The cold don’t touch me no more, and I can walk from here to heaven without getting tired. I don’t have any pain or sickness in this body.”
“Where are you headed?” I said. “I’m on my way to see my Momma. I sure have missed her and the others who have gone on before me. I really wasn’t expecting to join them this soon, but I can’t say I’m sad to have parted with this world. It has been both a joy and a struggle, but there’s no darkness now, only light.” In my mind, we told him how much we would miss him, and he said, “Don’t worry, youngun, I’m alright now, and there will always be a part of me walking down this road. Thank you for all the times you eased my burden and showed me friendship. You guys were one of the bright spots in my life.”
It was just an imaginary conversation, but if it had really happened, I’m willing to bet it would have gone a lot like that.
I wanted to share a few of the pictures we’ve taken of Sherman and all his “faces” through the years.
Good night dear Sherman. Rest well. We’ll be seeing you.
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