Borrowing from another who writes opinions: Boy was I wrong. Yet what I mistakenly wrote in Sunday's column, sadly enough, quickly came to pass.
I told valued readers at the close of my Sunday column, after hearing from a seemingly credible person claiming to be a mutual friend of Jim Gaston (who built the nationally popular White River Resort) that Jim had passed away in hospice care.
That information had come as my deadline for Sunday neared, so I wrote that he had passed away and how much I lamented his loss.
Thankfully, that was mistaken. He was still alive at the time, only to succumb hours later. For my error, I sincerely apologize to readers and everyone involved or affected prematurely.
Jim died just after midnight yesterday, according to Todd McCoy, manager of the Roller Funeral Home in Mountain Home. "A lot of folks from across the state and nation had been calling over the weekend asking if in fact Jim had passed away," McCoy said. "There was so much confusion for a few days, which we felt was understandable, but Jim has indeed passed on."
Gaston had remained until Sunday under hospice care where he'd been for about two weeks.
As with many, I came to know and respect Jim over the decades. We shared so many compatible views on life and the condition of our society, which always provided plenty of fodder for conversation around his big office desk.
Rest assured no one feels worse than me for my hours-premature report of his passing. No one can possibly rough me up worse than the beating I administer to myself when I make mistakes, which unfortunately, I do and will. Yet as I've written previously, I believe what matters is how we choose to deal with the blunders we make. Blame someone or something else, or just put on your adult pants and admit it.
Some readers may recall I visited with Jim in the geriatric care center at Mountain Home about three weeks ago and praised all this man accomplished and did for the our state. I realized he was in very poor health at the time, so the news of his death when I received it seemed plausible and credible at the time. Another tough lesson learned.
That said, I do suspect that had he been able to read my Sunday column, Jim would have laughed out loud. I can hear him saying: "So, Mike, you trying to hurry me along a few hours, are ya?" No, Jim. Anything but.
Now his passing is confirmed. James A. Gaston is no longer among us physically. Yet we can rest assured the magnificent legacy he created for untold others nestled bankside beneath the visitors center that bears his name will forever remain in the annals and spirit of our state.
I get letters
Every now and then I like to share the thoughts and expressions of readers who write to comment on my opinions. Here's a few of the more recent ones:
Ken Reeves of Harrison, a member of the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission (and a lifelong friend) writes in response to my Sunday comments about his agency handing out ice cream coupons to children: "The gift of coupons by Sonic Drive-Ins to reward our state's youngsters for being safe boaters and swimmers is a very generous gesture. At the AGFC one of our main objectives is to encourage our young boys and girls to enjoy outdoor activities such as hunting, fishing and conversation and doing all those safely. We know a little bit about using 'bait' and appreciate Sonic for providing some for us."
Lonnie McAllister wrote about the beyond-eerie "GodNod" experience he and his family shared decades ago when, desperate for gas, they happened across a one-pump station on a small 12-mile-long dirt road at night in the middle of nowhere that they could never find a trace of again: "Mom and I thoroughly enjoyed reading your column today about the GodNod we experienced. Thanks again for taking the time to meet with us and then publish our true story, as it's one I'll never forget in my lifetime!"
Carmelia Vorbach wrote: "I thoroughly enjoyed your recent articles so much. Thank you for reminding us how God intervenes in the lives of countries and individuals."
Scotty Freebairn also was affected by the McAllisters' experience: "I was completely thunderstruck by this story and there's no question in my mind it happened just as written. It had to be the Lord's work and it's a never-to-be-forgotten story. Thanks for sharing with us."
Reader Gary Berger has a different take: "You asked for examples of GodNod stories. I have none because they are all coincidences. They are in the same category as fairy tales and Santa Claus. Assuming you get paid to write about this nonsense when you retire, I want your job. I have a pretty good imagination and could fill a few paragraphs with humbug."
I say perhaps, Gary. Yet the desperate McAllister family back in 1954 did get a tankful of gasoline just when they needed it from a tiny, one pump, one-light-bulb station they could never find again despite searching several times along that rural Oklahoma road. Just sayin'.
Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at mikemasterson10@hotmail.com.
Editorial on 07/14/2015