John Jamison, my city editor at The Charlotte News for a couple of years, told me this one, a story that goes in the “Luck Beats All” category.
John Jamison in a photo taken much later in life.
Jamison, who had reported for The News and for WBT-WBTV in Charlotte, said that when he was a reporter he dinged the Mecklenburg County manager over something or other. And then some other reporter followed up with another good one. Then it was Jamison turn again.
After that things got quiet. The string of good stories had run out.
At that point, with nothing in hand, Jamison said he went to see the county manager on a lark, dropped his notebook on the guy’s desk and said:
“O.K. What’s going on downstairs in social services.”
Jamison said the manager opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a folder, handed it to him and said, “I was afraid you were going to ask me about that.”
NOTE: There is only one explanation for that kind of luck: Clean living.
One of my nieces, Pam Stith, told me this story. Here goes:
I was in second grade when my Daddy [John F. Stith Jr.] decided to go back to college, to the University of Alabama, to finish his degree. We moved to Tuscaloosa into a small apartment in student housing. My little brother, Paul, was about two and was put to bed earlier than his big brother and sister. Some nights he had trouble going to sleep. He would call out from the back bedroom, “Daddy, I can’t go to sleep.”
Daddy would say, “Just close your eyes.”
In a minute Paul would say, “I can’t, I can’t close my eyes.”
John F. Stith Jr.
Daddy would get up from his big red leather chair and walk back to the bedroom. He would lean over the side of the bed and tuck the blankets. Paul would close his eyes and Daddy would reach down and very gently touch Paul’s eyelids. Then Daddy would whisper.
“Your mama loves you. Your daddy loves you. Your brother loves you. Your sister loves you. Your Grandmama loves you.”
And the listing would continue. If Daddy skipped anybody, Paul would ask, “What about Aunt Jane?”
“Your Aunt Jane loves you,” Daddy would say. “Your Uncle John loves you. Your cousin Alice loves you.”
When Daddy finished all the family, he would move on to the neighbors. And every night he would finish with, “But Jesus loves you most of all.”
The university had converted an old hospital into student housing and the layout of the rooms was odd. The shower was made of tin and faced a back wall of the bathroom. One day when Daddy was taking a shower, he heard the bathroom door open and close. He knew someone had come in, but no one said anything, so he called out, “Who’s there?” No response. Louder, he said, “Who’s there?” No response. A third time he called out – this time sternly, “Who’s there?”
Paul Harrison Stith
Paul was standing in the bathroom and had not uttered a sound. He thought he was in trouble, but he didn’t know why. He knew he needed an answer for his Daddy and a good one. Then he thought of it!
“It’s the boy that Jesus loves!”
Postscript: Paul Harrison Stith, the boy that Jesus loves, is now the pastor of Grace Heritage Church, a Baptist church in Auburn, Alabama.
