The Gift Of Life

That's me and Elijah
That’s me with Elijah.

My 20-year-old grandson, Elijah Riley Gordy-Stith, was shot to death one year ago this week. Police said he was trying to rob someone’s home.

Elijah made a bad decision and paid a terrible price. But what you may not know is that the way Elijah died did not cause the people who loved him to love him any less. Or hurt any less.

What some of you also may not know is that God often salvages good things from life’s worst events.

People who read about his death in the newspaper saw only one page of Elijah’s life, but there was much more. He had survived a traumatic childhood before my son, Bo, and his wife, Vicki, asked him to become part of their family.

Elijah Riley Gordy-Stith
Elijah Riley Gordy-Stith

Elijah’s beautiful green eyes stole our hearts, as he gave his heart to us,” they said in his obituary. “A patient teacher, Elijah always made time for others, especially children. His fun-loving and goofy side cheered us up whenever we were down. Elijah always found a way to smile in adversity.”

The obituary said he died as he lived, giving life and love to others: Elijah was an organ donor. And, months after Elijah’s death, Bo and Vicki received this letter:

I am the 35-year-old woman who received the precious heart from your loved one. I know that there are no words that can truly express my feelings for your family. It takes a special kind of person to make such a sacrifice in their time of grief and need.”

Elijah with his brother, Eli, and sister, Joy.
Elijah with his brother, Eli, and sister, Joy.

Your loved one and your family are in my thoughts and prayers every day. I can never express the gratitude I have for this second chance at life. I can promise you that I will try to live up to the example set by your love one and touch and help as many people as possible in a positive way.”

I thought you might like to know that things are going well with my new heart. Before my gift, I had a LVAD, which is a heart pump, for 364 days. My heart EF [heart failure measurement] was at 8% when I got the pump. I had cancer as a teenager and chemo caused a lot of damage. At 28, I had my daughter. She is 6 now. Thanks to your gift, I will be able to see her grow up, which before didn’t look promising.”

Saying thank you just doesn’t seem like enough when a stranger saves your life. Your family have changed my complete outlook on life and everything it stands for. I sincerely hope that life treats your family to nothing but happiness and prosperity.”

Coming Monday: Wasting Taxpayers’ Money

Popeye The Sailor Man

Don’t tell me.  I already know how goofy this is going to sound to you.  But it’s the way it was.

I was an investigative reporter for more 35 years and during that time I conducted hundreds of hostile interviews, what I called “showdown” interviews.   For an interview like that I would study the documents I had gathered along with transcripts of preliminary interviews and carefully prepare each question.

Sometimes I would be forced to abandon my plan and improvise.  But that careful preparation — knowing I had done everything I could to get ready — gave me confidence and helped me switch to a new line of questions.

An old cartoon song also helped ready me for the mental pushing and shoving.

The state government office complex was only a few blocks away and I usually walked to those interviews.  I would go out the back door of The News & Observer, across a parking deck behind our building, and then turn left on Salisbury Street.  

Popeye
Popeye

And in my head Popeye’s theme song would begin playing.  You know the tune I’m talking about if you’ve ever watched cartoons.

Bluto, the big bearded guy who was always after Popeye’s girlfriend, would tie up Popeye and then try to run away with Olive Oyl. Popeye would suck spinach out of a can with his corn cob pipe — which gave him way more strength — the tune would play, “Ta, ta, ta, ta — ta ta…” and Popeye would break the chains, punch Bluto in the nose, and rescue Olive Oyl.

As I walked to the showdown I’d put a fresh chew of Red Man tobacco in my jaw, sort of like Popeye and his spinach, and play that tune over and over in my head.

And I’d say to myself, “I’m ready. You better be ready.”

Coming Friday: The Gift Of Life