Today, my father-in-law, Raymond Climer, turned 87. I love this man from the bottom of my heart, as does everyone who knows him. Here are 87 reasons why…
His unique way with words. After he and I recently lost three consecutive games of Hand & Foot to the ladies, he tried to console me by declaring, “Sometimes bad luck runs in squirts.”
His willingness to go with me for a Krystal burger, regardless of the time of day, whether he’s hungry, or any other factors.
The way he sits on the back porch and watches the birds at the feeder, then later recounts to us exactly what went down.
His daily pattern of spending time reading and studying God’s Word. No exceptions. No excuses. He just does it.
How, whenever he’s asked to lead singing, we’re going to hear his favorite song, “He Will Pilot Me.”
His wardrobe which contains only what I would call “dress clothes.” There are no shorts, jeans, or t-shirts, which is what my wardrobe mostly consists of. As a result, his legs have never seen the sun.
The fact that, in the 36 years I’ve known him, and 8 months I’ve lived with him, I’ve never heard him saying an unkind word about anyone. Not one word. If you ever wonder if Papa is talking negatively about you behind your back, I can assure you he’s not.
The way he looks after and protects Shirley, his wife, aka Mamaw. Like an air traffic controller monitoring planes, Papa constantly monitors Shirley’s whereabouts and well-being.
The way he lowers the seat and naps in the Walmart parking lot while the ladies make a “quick” Walmart run.
His off-the-chart gardening skills. The church garden and our backyard garden are evidence that he knows how to plant, cultivate, and harvest a wide range of vegetables.
How he compares the quality of any restaurant with La Fogata Mexican restaurant in Union, South Carolina. “That’s good salsa,” he’ll say. “But not like La Fogata’s.”
The way he and Mamaw go into their sitting room at night, put on their headphones, and watch shows that almost always feature a horse.
His love for the Atlanta Braves. Plop him in front of a television set with a Braves game on an he’s in his happy place.
The faint, but high-pitched squeal his hearing aids make, especially noticeable in the car. When we ride through our neighborhood, dogs start barking.
The 10-15 minutes he and Mamaw will spend studying and analyzing the menu at a familiar restaurant, like Cracker Barrel, even though they always end up ordering the same thing and splitting it.
His unmatched ability to make the most delicious S’Mores you’ll ever eat, featuring graham crackers, peanut butter, walnuts, marshmallows, and chocolate. If you improperly space any of said ingredients while helping him, he’ll gently remind you of the correct way.
His half-smile when he beats me in a game of basement pool. He always comments on being unable to see across the table on long shots, right before sinking a long shot to win the game.
His willingness to weed the yard for me while I mow. It cuts yardwork time in half.
The trash-talking between him and his best friend, Clarence, over who caught the most and biggest fish. He’ll look at one of Clarence’s fish and comment, “You might be able to use that one as bait.”
His ability to put a family, church, or personal issue or concern in a larger context that reminds me that everything is going to be okay.
His love for the Duke Blue Devils. If you want to locate Papa in heaven, he’ll be the guy in the Duke jersey and Atlanta Braves hat.
The precious look on his face when Carolyn, a teenager from our church, showed up outside his window with a birthday sign and bag of goodies.
The way he responds to Mamaw when she asks for his opinion on curtain height, television volume, soup temperature, or most other matters. “That’ll be just fine.”
His certainty that Mamaw always gets the good luck and good cards in any board or card game. “I tell you, that Shirl…”
His deep love for small red garden tomatoes.
The way he laughed at me when, the day after planting jalapeno pepper plants, I complained that there were no peppers on the vine.
His unwillingness to get rid of old fishing reels that are no longer serviceable. There’s an expectation that someday, somehow, we’re going to need an old fishing reel with brittle line.
His daily trip to the mailbox, around 2 p.m., to retrieve mail which will most likely contain a personal letter to him from Publisher’s Clearinghouse.
His fascination with Zoom. How do all those people get inside the boxes on the screen?
The look he gave the man who told him it would be $650 to repair his car door handle and tail light. “I think I can fix this myself.”
The look on his face when Mamaw adjusted the speed on his treadmill upward about 80% without warning him.
His 40 years of faithfully preaching the gospel at congregations in Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia.
His ability to please his family (myself excluded) by making a fresh, warm batch of chocolate gravy.
The time I got up the courage to call him to get his permission to propose to Janet, after dating her for four years…
“Hello, Mr. Climer?”
“Yes, this is him.”
“This is Steve.”
“Steve who?”
The way he walks around the house at night in his pajamas, with his pajama shirt tucked into his pajama pants, and his pants tucked into his socks…like an old, white Urkel.
The way he sometimes gently challenges the accuracy of something Mamaw says with, “Well, I don’t know about that.”
His uncanny ability to catch crappie by flicking a jig up against a pier under the bridge at Lake Greenwood in South Carolina.
His 10 years of tireless missionary work in India, baptizing more than a thousand people along the way.
How his family thinks he can fix anything, and he usually can…often by applying duct tape and Gorilla Glue.
The way he calls all soda pop “drink.”
The way he uses “carry” instead of “take.” … “Should I carry her some cucumbers?” “I’ll carry you to the store.”
Similarly, he doesn’t get things—he fetches them. Similarly, “over there” is “yonder way.”
His faithfulness in teaching and reaching several hundred people around the world through online Bible correspondence courses.
The way he teared up this morning while recounting his love for Mamaw and the profound impact she had on his life by introducing him to Jesus.
The look on his face when Erika and her family and Valerie and her family showed up recently and served us an amazing lunch. They not only made his day, but lifted all of our spirits.
The time he stored $1000 in cash in his shoes while shopping for a couch, because “a robber wouldn’t think to look in my shoes.”
His certainty that if you press a certain place on one of your thumbs for 45 seconds, you’ll go to sleep within 7 minutes. Where is the location? He doesn’t know.
His 2 years of service to our country in the United States Army.
His tendency to believe that online remedies are true. (He passed this trait onto his youngest daughter.) (The two are convinced that wrapping his body in tin foil will cure his arthritis.) (On the night he does this, I plan to don my full-body Simba halloween outfit and recreate a scene from The Wizard of Oz.)
That he doesn’t avoid social situations/gatherings simply because he doesn’t hear well. He participates in the conversation to the extent that he’s able, and doesn’t worry that he can’t always follow along with what’s being said…and occasionally says things completely out of context.
The way he sometimes changes lanes and only then looks to see if anyone is in that lane.
His consistency in throwing a ball right down the middle and earning a split in Wii bowling.
His fascination with my ability to loudly play YouTube bird calls that match the type of bird that is currently on the feeder.
His complete contentment with a flip phone that is primarily used for one thing: flipping.
The look on his face that time, while dating his daughter, when I opened a bottle of sparkling grape juice on New Year’s Eve and the cork hit the ceiling and left a slight grape juice stain on it.
The occasional toot that can be heard by everyone in the room but himself.
The voracity with which he and Mamaw review, analyze, and take advantage of Hardees and Burger King coupons.
His memorization and recall of applicable Scripture, even at 87.
Although his meals consist of what I would consider tiny portions, he will eat every tomato slice offered to him, regardless of how many.
His deep love and concern for his three daughters and their well-being. Same goes for the rest of the family, but there’s something special about the relationship between this man and his daughters.
Due to pain levels or general restlessness, how he’ll spend time on a typical night in bed, then on the recliner sofa, and then flat on his back, with his feet propped up on the recliner sofa.
His knack for finding the best in people, and pointing it out to others.
That time we were playing Codenames and I was trying to get him to choose “Agent” and “London” with the clue “James Bond.” His response: “Who’s James Bond?”
More generally, his complete lack of interest in popular culture—music, celebrities, and most current events. He loves God, his family, the Bible, the church, his friends (most especially Clarence), the Braves, the Blue Devils, and gardening. He doesn’t follow or get too worked up about much else. I love that about him.
His typical response to anyone complaining about aging or an ailment: “It doesn’t get any better.”
His deep appreciation for strawberry strudel. The time Carolyn, a church teenager, brought him several boxes of strudel may have been his favorite moment of 2020.
The way he gently couches advice, even on things he knows and feels strongly about, with “You may want to consider…” No one is less bossy.
His love for people, regardless of age, gender, race, or background. He promotes equality not through divisive social media posts or slogans, or by toppling statues, but rather through a long-time relationship with Clarence, his best friend and fishing buddy, who also happens to be African-American.
The way he looks people in the eye and gives them his undivided attention when he listens to them.
The time he tried to kill a snake near Clarence’s boat by swinging an oar at it. The snake was unfazed and Clarence suffered only minor injuries.
The time Janet made him and Mamaw a photo book of our RV journey out West, containing both real and photo-shopped photos of them. He’s looked through that book countless times, laughing out loud, and shares it with almost every visitor.
His knack for not looking at the camera whenever a photo is taken of him/us.
His faithfulness in visiting and sharing God’s love with residents of nursing homes.
His ability, at 87, to stuff bags of cereal for 3 consecutive hours at Maryville’s Second Harvest Food Bank…or harvest garden vegetables for an hour in 90 degree weather.
The time I picked him up and lowered him in my hammock for a book photo shoot. (Someday, I need to retrieve him.)
His concern for his reputation when I made him and Mamaw pose for a picture in front of the Clinch River Tattoo and Coffee shop.
The time he fell in a Hardees parking lot during a pounding rainstorm, then popped up, got in the car and looked at me with a big smile.
His theories on why half of the corn crop at the church garden got knocked over. As best I can tell, it was some combination of wind shear, ornery deer, rabid raccoons, and hungry widows.
His wood-working skills, which he has used to make people bookshelves, quilt racks, and assorted other things.
That, while disciplining his girls during their childhood, he would always start out planning to give them a few soft licks, but would get tickled and be unable to continue.
The time he dressed up as a woman, Ramona, for a Bible Camp skit.
The time I was replacing their bathroom sink plumbing and he was helping me. I took off the sink trap, full of dirty water, handed it to him and asked him to pour it out in the tub. Instead, he poured it out in the sink, dousing my head with dirty water.
The smile on his face when Brad and Jenny Diamond sang a special version of the Birthday Song to him this morning, along with a beautiful rendition of “Father God.”
His tendency to hum around the house throughout the day. We’ve been unable to determine which song he’s humming.
His knack for using almost any interaction with a stranger to encourage them, get to know them, and invite them to church.
How everyone who knows him considers him a “gentle giant.” Those who know him best know this is true, except when he’s losing at cards or any game.
More than anything, his unwavering love for God and desire to please God by the life that he lives. What an example! What an inspiration!
Happy 87th Birthday, Papa!
You are simply the best!
I so miss Raymond, Shirley and Clarence and our Monday night card games with Carol and Scott Hamm. They’ve always made me feel like an adopted member of the family, and I love them very much. Thanks for such a wonderful round up of Raymond isms! One I would add was his frequent comment while playing Hand and Foot with a partner besides his wife “Why don’t you play like that when you’re playing with me, Shirl??”
Too bad we moved away and are missing all these funny episodes! You should get a job as a comedian! Thanks for all the good laughs, brighten my day!