Standing in Harrison's sun-dappled Maplewood Cemetery, where I've long paid scores of visits to the engraved marble headstones of those gone, it still seemed surrealistic to watch the ashes of my late uncle, John Paul Hammerschmidt, laid to rest beside his wife Virginia, who died in 2006.
It's not by accident that the numbers of years a newspaper columnist lives can be equated to the stories we write about loss. It's one of those subjects that affects each of us, which means we all relate.
On this Saturday morning, more than 100 gathered beneath and around the blue tent erected alongside the tombstone bearing the former 3rd District congressman's name. His birthdate, May 4, 1922, had already been inscribed, with his final day of life, April 1, 2015, yet to be carved.
Seated with other family members and a few of those who worked daily in the Harrison offices John Paul maintained to continue helping others in every way possible, we watched in silence as the Air Force honor guard went through its flag-folding ritual and presented it from the grateful nation to his only child, John Arthur.
John Paul had earned the honor guard by piloting supply missions across the treacherous Himalayan mountains during World War II, earning four Distinguished Flying Crosses in the process.
The Rev. D.C. Adams of the First Presbyterian Church in Harrison quoted scriptures and words of reassurance as some wept openly and others reflected on individual relationships and associations with John Paul.
Everyone, and I do mean everyone, who knew the man, had positive accounts. So many people across the state had been helped in one way or another by his pervasive sense of caring and concern for others. Some who had worked in his congressional office over 13 terms between 1966 and 1993 were here.
One told me that Uncle John would tell them there were two ways of getting things done. One was by any means to an end and the other was the right way. "He always reminded us and insisted that we do things the right way," said Cheryl Daugherty, who was standing with his former staffers, Cindy Suchecki and Karen Karps.
Beneath the tent, I remembered the last visit with my uncle at Jamie's Restaurant in Harrison just two months ago. At 92, he'd driven his own car to that lunch and, while using a cane to assist his mobility, he'd still been as alert and personable as always. At one point, a diner had approached to tell him hello and advise me that I should "quit picking on those poor hog farmers in the Buffalo River watershed at Mount Judea." Uncle John (who in 1972 had shepherded legislation designating the Buffalo National River through the House of Representatives) had just smiled at me.
The program for this service, one of three in his memory over last weekend, said: "Of all his accomplishments through life, John Paul's dedication to his family, his country, his state, his hometown community and his Lord never wavered. He was kind, compassionate and always willing to make time for others ... He will be missed immeasurably."
Watching the white-gloved airmen so painstakingly and methodically unfold, then refold, our nation's banner, was mesmerizing in itself. Beside me, Lisa Brightwell, who for many years had managed John Paul's office at Northark Community College and had felt such a connection with his spirit, sobbed softly from her heart.
I glanced at my son Brandon and 8-year-old granddaughter Elizabeth, watching from alongside my parents' adjacent graves, and was reminded of just how quickly our time here races inexorably toward the same end.
From atop a nearby hill beneath scores of maple trees the crack of 21 shots fired from the airmen's rifles punctuated an otherwise calm, followed by the mournful yet elegant farewell, "Taps."
And then in a half-hour the burial was over. I realized that whenever I visited these gravesites in the future, I'd be laying yet another small stone to the top of those family marble markers to let each of them know I'd been by again just to say hello.
The visitation at his college offices was well-attended Sunday afternoon, as was his formal memorial service at First Presbyterian Church yesterday afternoon where eulogies were offered by U.S. Sen. John Boozman and Harrison attorney Ken Reeves. The sermon was delivered by The Rev. H.D. McCarty of Fayetteville's Ventures for Christ.
GOP Gov. Asa Hutchinson ordered flags across Arkansas flown at half-mast throughout the day as a final salute. "John Paul Hammerschmidt was an Arkansas icon, a political giant and a personal mentor and friend," he said. "As the lone Republican member of Arkansas' congressional delegation for many of his 13 terms in office ... [he balanced] strong conservative convictions with a remarkable ability to reach across party lines and find common ground to get things done. He was respected by all and beloved by many. Arkansas misses him greatly."
Well said, Governor. I only hope, as I'm sure do many others reading today, that those representing us in Washington and in the state can learn from the gold standard of public service John Paul Hammerschmidt established.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at mikemasterson10@hotmail.com.
Editorial on 05/05/2015