This and That about This and That

Blogging from Bruce
Vonda Keon

August 31, 2008


To gently borrow an opening phrase from a dear friend, This and That about This and That.

There comes a time in your life when you sit down and ponder on the many people that have come and gone through your life. Some encounters are brief like a shooting star and others are recurring like a comet that keeps on coming back into your orbit. In my life I can truthfully say that there have been two iconic characters that have had a profound lasting effect on me. One was my father, David Tedford and the other was Gale Denley.

My daddy was a prankster, a self made man, who would tell you that he was the boss because my Mama told him he could be, and he was a dreamer. He could come up with some of the most hair-brained ideas, most of which was going to involve some sweat equity on my sisters’ or my part.

The other character in my life that has been an influence on me was ‘Buddy’. I went to the funeral of S.Gale Denley on Sunday and it was an event that was a truly fitting send off. It hurts that he will no longer be with us in person, but his spirit will live on in the many lives that he touched in one way or another.

When I moved back to Bruce in the summer of 1996 after my Dad died, I ran into Gale Denley at Jeffery’s eating lunch. We sat and drank tea, mine as sweet as they could make it and his was unsweetened, and got reacquainted. I had not lived in Calhoun County for over 25 years and he wanted to know just what I had been up to. I learned very quickly NOT to tell Buddy very much or it would end up in his weekly column. I kept calling him Mr. Denley because Gale was just a bit too informal for me. But he said that Mr. Denley was his dad so I called him what his kids called him. Calling him Buddy fit like a glove.

Buddy knew that I liked to write and there were many times when he would visit me at work and ask to read what I had written lately. He would critique it and tell me how to make it better. Or he would make some smart comment about what I had written with a twinkle in his eyes and a sly little smirk playing around the edges of his mouth.


Politics was something I would not argue Buddy. He was a self proclaimed Yellow Dog Democrat and I was not. Oh don’t you think that we didn’t talk about politics. I would ask him questions about politicians I wanted to know about. He knew that I didn’t like being pigeon-holed into any one political party but that didn’t stop him from trying. He just called me hard headed and I thanked him.

Over the last 12 years I watched him as he went up and down in weight and as he battled his many health issues. It broke my heart to see him changing so profoundly. Sometimes he was in high spirits and other times he was quite melancholy. But underneath it all he was still Buddy; the man with the strong opinions and the big heart. He might complain, sometimes just a little. But often he did not. He just went on the best that he could.

The last time I got to really sit down and talk with him was in the late spring when Ariel was selected as the Rotary student of the month. He offered me a little of his ever present oxygen. I declined and commented his hair was long enough to pull back into a pony tail. He looked at me and said “it’s not that long. Is it?” When I offered to pull it back with one of Ariel’s pony tail bands, he quickly stopped me and then told Joann that she needed to make him an appointment that day to have his hair cut. I saw him a few days later, nicely coiffured and when I told him how nice and gentlemanly he looked, he just sort of grunted at me and kept on sipping his tea.

My lasting memory of Buddy will always be one of a Southern Gentleman. I told him he needed to wear a big ole white Panama hat. I tried once to get him to sit for a portrait for me wearing a white suit and wearing just such a hat holding one of his canes and leaning back in a porch rocker. He just gave me that sly little grin.

To his daughters, I will cherish my times with your father. He was a fine man and a
true character. Will time ease your pain of missing him? I will tell you no. It has been 12 years since my Dad died and I still miss him every day. When I hear an ag-plane flying or even pass by a freshly sprayed field and smell the chemicals, memories of Daddy come flooding in. I can only offer you this; somewhere along the way, things will happen. You will hear something that sounds like he is walking up behind you. Or you will be questioning doing something and his voice will sound within your head giving you the answer. Buddy is still with you. He is in your heart. And THAT is all I can tell you about this and that.