Wendell H. Hall, Sr.
A graduate of Louisiana College and L.S.U., Hall dedicated his life to the education of children and was deeply devoted to the West Feliciana school system. After serving as principal, he was appointed superintendent of West Feliciana Schools from 1969-1989 and successfully navigated the parish through very difficult and lean times to lay the groundwork for what would become a top school district in the state. In addition to his work in the parish, his generous service benefited state education through his many efforts in state and national school associations. His devotion to the parish was felt throughout the community because of his service and efforts on many boards and organizations. A truly humble man, even his family was often surprised to read of an accomplishment in the newspaper that he had forgotten to mention.
Born in Newton, Texas on February 18, 1927, he served in WWII in the United States Navy before attending Louisiana College where he met and married his beloved Rachel. He also served as Educational Officer in the USAF stationed at England AFB in Alexandria, as well as a commissioned officer in the US Army Reserve until 1958.
He is survived by his children Wendell Jr., Shannon and his wife Melissa, Amy Hall Daigle and husband Carl and seven grandchildren, Catherine Wilson, Barrett Hall, Madelyn Murgas, Andrew Hall, Blaine Daigle, Caitlyn Blank and Karly Ann Daigle, as well as three great-grandchildren.
Preceded in death by his father, W. H. (Humpy) Hall and his cherished wife Rachel.
Visitation at First Baptist Church St. Francisville December 7, 2017 from 5~7pm, and again from 9-10am preceding service at 10am 12/8/17.
Internment at Mt. Carmel Cemetery in St. Francisville, Louisiana.
THE following was written by Mr Hall's daughter, Amy and read at his funeral ~
Monday, I told my Daddy that I knew he was ready for his trip to be with God and my Mother that he loved with all of his heart. I kissed his head and said, "You're work here is done, and it was a job done well." In the days since, I have reflected on those words—A job done well. So much about who my father was is in that simple statement. For all jobs he took on were done well. Son. Husband. Father. Soldier. Principal. Superintendent. Friend. Civic-Leader. When Hall took on a job, the result was always - a job done well.
Many of those jobs I cannot speak to—so I will take a minute to talk about the one I absolutely know was a job done well—the job of Father. The job of Family Man.
My father was a giant among men, but I was privileged to know the gentle giant. I was struck at a very early age at how he could command a room with simply his voice or a raised hand—but the same voice and hand comforted the tiniest creature and many a crying baby. Each grandbaby that came into their lives, Dee would say, "This one will be mine." And each would attach to Hall immediately. He would rock a baby for endless hours or stroke a crying kitten until it purred. And I was in awe. I often laugh at how many times in recent years he settled a dispute over the house heater with a very grown me by simply saying, "Little Girl." His strength was in his kindness and his ability to bring calm to anything because he could protect, direct and handle anything.
He taught me what love looks like. He taught many what love looks like. He doted on my mother, and my mother on him. When people talk about Daddy, they talk about Momma. They were truly a team. Love was an open and flowing gift in our home. They truly embodied the scripture: The two shall be as one. As I thought about how to convey this, I struggled, because the love in our house was an aura; no single event could do it justice. I was talking to their very dear friend, Teeta, and she gave me the perfect example. She said when she moved here and became involved, she constantly heard people talking about Rachel Ann Hall. "Rachel Ann Hall would take care of that," or "Rachel Ann Hall would be there." It was quite some time before she realized it was two people—that it wasn't Rachel ANN, A-N-N, Hall, but Rachel AND, A-N-D, Hall. I felt that was the perfect way to explain who they were. Two people that had long since become one.
Daddy was a wise soul. The big picture was never hard for him to find. He often saw what many didn't. My brother, Shannon, shared this week how when asked for advice, Daddy would present him with multiple options, and when Shannon questioned why he wouldn't just tell him what to do, Daddy responded it was better to teach him how to make good decisions or live with the consequences of his bad decisions than it was for him to tell him what to do. Daddy prepared us well through lessons and examples.
He possessed true charm—a gentleman to the core. But he loved fun, especially making fun - of Momma, of me, of the boys. He could flip off a most outrageous line, and if you didn't see it coming, well - you were "got". Those dancing blue eyes were often the only clue. And it was constant. How many times I went and asked Momma about some ridiculous something because he, with a straight face, had me believing what couldn't possibly be real. Just last week, when he moved to hospice, a nurse came in the room and said, "You must be his daughter," and without so much as a hint of a dimple, he looked over and said, "You told them you were my daughter, Honey?" The poor little nurse…. This is only one example. He was full of them. It was one thing I will cherish forever. His constant play shaped each of us. No one was safe from being the recipient of one of his little jokes. He loved every minute of it, and from it I learned ~
Life needs breaks. Take time to play. Laugh. Enjoy the journey.
But the character trait that made him most amazing to me through all the years was how principled and humble he was. Daddy taught me to believe in something - to study a situation and apply my morals to it. To determine what was truly right, and then, with all that I had, embrace my convictions and move forward with quiet determination to make the world a better place. And to always do it for the right reason. To do it simply because it was the right thing to do, not because of credit that could be given. He never made a choice for his family or the school system because it was in Hall's best interest, but only because it was the right thing to do. We often found out later, from the newspaper or other people, about some position or honor that he had received. I remember one Sunday morning as we were having breakfast before Church, Momma was reading the paper, and looked up and asked if he had forgotten to tell her something. He honestly looked confused. She began reading an article that talked about Daddy being elected President of the Southern Association of School Superintendents, or some such title, and before she was two sentences in, he grumbled, "Oh, that," and went back to his coffee and paper. He lacked only his dissertation for his PHD, but told me once that it would take time from his work, and what he was trying to do in his job was bigger than a title he really didn't need.
But maybe the story that speaks of his humble nature best is a family story. My sweet grandmother, my mother's mother, lived with us. As a teenager, I would go to the drugstore to pick up her medicines. This was in the day when you simply signed a ticket, and the bill was sent at the end of the month. One day, MawMaw handed me her little Social Security check, and told me to bring it to Daddy to pay for her medicine. Now, I was not the best math student, but even I could easily tell that check didn't come near the tickets I had signed. I brought it in Hall's office and explained what she had said. As he took it, I said, "But Daddy, her medicine is so much more than that." His hand flew up, and his blue eyes locked with mine, and he said, "Little girl, don't you say a word to your grandmother. You let her think this is enough. Do you understand?" You see, MawMaw was a proud woman. Daddy never wanted credit for taking care of her. He wanted to quietly do what was right.
Daddy taught us what it meant to be a family man, from living with his Mother-In-Law from day two of his marriage for the next 36 years, to dropping everything at a moment's notice to go to Texas if his beloved Aunt B called.
My second week of college, I got the flu. Even his dedication to West Feliciana schools could not stop him from coming to Hattiesburg and renting a hotel room for three days to take care of me. As important as everything else was, we, his family, always took priority.
The first August after he retired on the first day of school, I called home and asked how the day had gone. He told me every bell in West Feliciana Schools had gone off, and the day had gone on without him there. He guessed he had done his job preparing them for this day. Daddy, my alarm clock will go off tomorrow, and I will get up and go through my day because you have prepared me for this day. I have learned the lessons, and I am a better person ~ because your job was done well.
A graduate of Louisiana College and L.S.U., Hall dedicated his life to the education of children and was deeply devoted to the West Feliciana school system. After serving as principal, he was appointed superintendent of West Feliciana Schools from 1969-1989 and successfully navigated the parish through very difficult and lean times to lay the groundwork for what would become a top school district in the state. In addition to his work in the parish, his generous service benefited state education through his many efforts in state and national school associations. His devotion to the parish was felt throughout the community because of his service and efforts on many boards and organizations. A truly humble man, even his family was often surprised to read of an accomplishment in the newspaper that he had forgotten to mention.
Born in Newton, Texas on February 18, 1927, he served in WWII in the United States Navy before attending Louisiana College where he met and married his beloved Rachel. He also served as Educational Officer in the USAF stationed at England AFB in Alexandria, as well as a commissioned officer in the US Army Reserve until 1958.
He is survived by his children Wendell Jr., Shannon and his wife Melissa, Amy Hall Daigle and husband Carl and seven grandchildren, Catherine Wilson, Barrett Hall, Madelyn Murgas, Andrew Hall, Blaine Daigle, Caitlyn Blank and Karly Ann Daigle, as well as three great-grandchildren.
Preceded in death by his father, W. H. (Humpy) Hall and his cherished wife Rachel.
Visitation at First Baptist Church St. Francisville December 7, 2017 from 5~7pm, and again from 9-10am preceding service at 10am 12/8/17.
Internment at Mt. Carmel Cemetery in St. Francisville, Louisiana.
THE following was written by Mr Hall's daughter, Amy and read at his funeral ~
Monday, I told my Daddy that I knew he was ready for his trip to be with God and my Mother that he loved with all of his heart. I kissed his head and said, "You're work here is done, and it was a job done well." In the days since, I have reflected on those words—A job done well. So much about who my father was is in that simple statement. For all jobs he took on were done well. Son. Husband. Father. Soldier. Principal. Superintendent. Friend. Civic-Leader. When Hall took on a job, the result was always - a job done well.
Many of those jobs I cannot speak to—so I will take a minute to talk about the one I absolutely know was a job done well—the job of Father. The job of Family Man.
My father was a giant among men, but I was privileged to know the gentle giant. I was struck at a very early age at how he could command a room with simply his voice or a raised hand—but the same voice and hand comforted the tiniest creature and many a crying baby. Each grandbaby that came into their lives, Dee would say, "This one will be mine." And each would attach to Hall immediately. He would rock a baby for endless hours or stroke a crying kitten until it purred. And I was in awe. I often laugh at how many times in recent years he settled a dispute over the house heater with a very grown me by simply saying, "Little Girl." His strength was in his kindness and his ability to bring calm to anything because he could protect, direct and handle anything.
He taught me what love looks like. He taught many what love looks like. He doted on my mother, and my mother on him. When people talk about Daddy, they talk about Momma. They were truly a team. Love was an open and flowing gift in our home. They truly embodied the scripture: The two shall be as one. As I thought about how to convey this, I struggled, because the love in our house was an aura; no single event could do it justice. I was talking to their very dear friend, Teeta, and she gave me the perfect example. She said when she moved here and became involved, she constantly heard people talking about Rachel Ann Hall. "Rachel Ann Hall would take care of that," or "Rachel Ann Hall would be there." It was quite some time before she realized it was two people—that it wasn't Rachel ANN, A-N-N, Hall, but Rachel AND, A-N-D, Hall. I felt that was the perfect way to explain who they were. Two people that had long since become one.
Daddy was a wise soul. The big picture was never hard for him to find. He often saw what many didn't. My brother, Shannon, shared this week how when asked for advice, Daddy would present him with multiple options, and when Shannon questioned why he wouldn't just tell him what to do, Daddy responded it was better to teach him how to make good decisions or live with the consequences of his bad decisions than it was for him to tell him what to do. Daddy prepared us well through lessons and examples.
He possessed true charm—a gentleman to the core. But he loved fun, especially making fun - of Momma, of me, of the boys. He could flip off a most outrageous line, and if you didn't see it coming, well - you were "got". Those dancing blue eyes were often the only clue. And it was constant. How many times I went and asked Momma about some ridiculous something because he, with a straight face, had me believing what couldn't possibly be real. Just last week, when he moved to hospice, a nurse came in the room and said, "You must be his daughter," and without so much as a hint of a dimple, he looked over and said, "You told them you were my daughter, Honey?" The poor little nurse…. This is only one example. He was full of them. It was one thing I will cherish forever. His constant play shaped each of us. No one was safe from being the recipient of one of his little jokes. He loved every minute of it, and from it I learned ~
Life needs breaks. Take time to play. Laugh. Enjoy the journey.
But the character trait that made him most amazing to me through all the years was how principled and humble he was. Daddy taught me to believe in something - to study a situation and apply my morals to it. To determine what was truly right, and then, with all that I had, embrace my convictions and move forward with quiet determination to make the world a better place. And to always do it for the right reason. To do it simply because it was the right thing to do, not because of credit that could be given. He never made a choice for his family or the school system because it was in Hall's best interest, but only because it was the right thing to do. We often found out later, from the newspaper or other people, about some position or honor that he had received. I remember one Sunday morning as we were having breakfast before Church, Momma was reading the paper, and looked up and asked if he had forgotten to tell her something. He honestly looked confused. She began reading an article that talked about Daddy being elected President of the Southern Association of School Superintendents, or some such title, and before she was two sentences in, he grumbled, "Oh, that," and went back to his coffee and paper. He lacked only his dissertation for his PHD, but told me once that it would take time from his work, and what he was trying to do in his job was bigger than a title he really didn't need.
But maybe the story that speaks of his humble nature best is a family story. My sweet grandmother, my mother's mother, lived with us. As a teenager, I would go to the drugstore to pick up her medicines. This was in the day when you simply signed a ticket, and the bill was sent at the end of the month. One day, MawMaw handed me her little Social Security check, and told me to bring it to Daddy to pay for her medicine. Now, I was not the best math student, but even I could easily tell that check didn't come near the tickets I had signed. I brought it in Hall's office and explained what she had said. As he took it, I said, "But Daddy, her medicine is so much more than that." His hand flew up, and his blue eyes locked with mine, and he said, "Little girl, don't you say a word to your grandmother. You let her think this is enough. Do you understand?" You see, MawMaw was a proud woman. Daddy never wanted credit for taking care of her. He wanted to quietly do what was right.
Daddy taught us what it meant to be a family man, from living with his Mother-In-Law from day two of his marriage for the next 36 years, to dropping everything at a moment's notice to go to Texas if his beloved Aunt B called.
My second week of college, I got the flu. Even his dedication to West Feliciana schools could not stop him from coming to Hattiesburg and renting a hotel room for three days to take care of me. As important as everything else was, we, his family, always took priority.
The first August after he retired on the first day of school, I called home and asked how the day had gone. He told me every bell in West Feliciana Schools had gone off, and the day had gone on without him there. He guessed he had done his job preparing them for this day. Daddy, my alarm clock will go off tomorrow, and I will get up and go through my day because you have prepared me for this day. I have learned the lessons, and I am a better person ~ because your job was done well.
Wendell H. Hall, Sr.
A graduate of Louisiana College and L.S.U., Hall dedicated his life to the education of children and was deeply devoted to the West Feliciana school system. After serving as principal, he was appointed superintendent of West Feliciana Schools from 1969-1989 and successfully navigated the parish through very difficult and lean times to lay the groundwork for what would become a top school district in the state. In addition to his work in the parish, his generous service benefited state education through his many efforts in state and national school associations. His devotion to the parish was felt throughout the community because of his service and efforts on many boards and organizations. A truly humble man, even his family was often surprised to read of an accomplishment in the newspaper that he had forgotten to mention.
Born in Newton, Texas on February 18, 1927, he served in WWII in the United States Navy before attending Louisiana College where he met and married his beloved Rachel. He also served as Educational Officer in the USAF stationed at England AFB in Alexandria, as well as a commissioned officer in the US Army Reserve until 1958.
He is survived by his children Wendell Jr., Shannon and his wife Melissa, Amy Hall Daigle and husband Carl and seven grandchildren, Catherine Wilson, Barrett Hall, Madelyn Murgas, Andrew Hall, Blaine Daigle, Caitlyn Blank and Karly Ann Daigle, as well as three great-grandchildren.
Preceded in death by his father, W. H. (Humpy) Hall and his cherished wife Rachel.
Visitation at First Baptist Church St. Francisville December 7, 2017 from 5~7pm, and again from 9-10am preceding service at 10am 12/8/17.
Internment at Mt. Carmel Cemetery in St. Francisville, Louisiana.
THE following was written by Mr Hall's daughter, Amy and read at his funeral ~
Monday, I told my Daddy that I knew he was ready for his trip to be with God and my Mother that he loved with all of his heart. I kissed his head and said, "You're work here is done, and it was a job done well." In the days since, I have reflected on those words—A job done well. So much about who my father was is in that simple statement. For all jobs he took on were done well. Son. Husband. Father. Soldier. Principal. Superintendent. Friend. Civic-Leader. When Hall took on a job, the result was always - a job done well.
Many of those jobs I cannot speak to—so I will take a minute to talk about the one I absolutely know was a job done well—the job of Father. The job of Family Man.
My father was a giant among men, but I was privileged to know the gentle giant. I was struck at a very early age at how he could command a room with simply his voice or a raised hand—but the same voice and hand comforted the tiniest creature and many a crying baby. Each grandbaby that came into their lives, Dee would say, "This one will be mine." And each would attach to Hall immediately. He would rock a baby for endless hours or stroke a crying kitten until it purred. And I was in awe. I often laugh at how many times in recent years he settled a dispute over the house heater with a very grown me by simply saying, "Little Girl." His strength was in his kindness and his ability to bring calm to anything because he could protect, direct and handle anything.
He taught me what love looks like. He taught many what love looks like. He doted on my mother, and my mother on him. When people talk about Daddy, they talk about Momma. They were truly a team. Love was an open and flowing gift in our home. They truly embodied the scripture: The two shall be as one. As I thought about how to convey this, I struggled, because the love in our house was an aura; no single event could do it justice. I was talking to their very dear friend, Teeta, and she gave me the perfect example. She said when she moved here and became involved, she constantly heard people talking about Rachel Ann Hall. "Rachel Ann Hall would take care of that," or "Rachel Ann Hall would be there." It was quite some time before she realized it was two people—that it wasn't Rachel ANN, A-N-N, Hall, but Rachel AND, A-N-D, Hall. I felt that was the perfect way to explain who they were. Two people that had long since become one.
Daddy was a wise soul. The big picture was never hard for him to find. He often saw what many didn't. My brother, Shannon, shared this week how when asked for advice, Daddy would present him with multiple options, and when Shannon questioned why he wouldn't just tell him what to do, Daddy responded it was better to teach him how to make good decisions or live with the consequences of his bad decisions than it was for him to tell him what to do. Daddy prepared us well through lessons and examples.
He possessed true charm—a gentleman to the core. But he loved fun, especially making fun - of Momma, of me, of the boys. He could flip off a most outrageous line, and if you didn't see it coming, well - you were "got". Those dancing blue eyes were often the only clue. And it was constant. How many times I went and asked Momma about some ridiculous something because he, with a straight face, had me believing what couldn't possibly be real. Just last week, when he moved to hospice, a nurse came in the room and said, "You must be his daughter," and without so much as a hint of a dimple, he looked over and said, "You told them you were my daughter, Honey?" The poor little nurse…. This is only one example. He was full of them. It was one thing I will cherish forever. His constant play shaped each of us. No one was safe from being the recipient of one of his little jokes. He loved every minute of it, and from it I learned ~
Life needs breaks. Take time to play. Laugh. Enjoy the journey.
But the character trait that made him most amazing to me through all the years was how principled and humble he was. Daddy taught me to believe in something - to study a situation and apply my morals to it. To determine what was truly right, and then, with all that I had, embrace my convictions and move forward with quiet determination to make the world a better place. And to always do it for the right reason. To do it simply because it was the right thing to do, not because of credit that could be given. He never made a choice for his family or the school system because it was in Hall's best interest, but only because it was the right thing to do. We often found out later, from the newspaper or other people, about some position or honor that he had received. I remember one Sunday morning as we were having breakfast before Church, Momma was reading the paper, and looked up and asked if he had forgotten to tell her something. He honestly looked confused. She began reading an article that talked about Daddy being elected President of the Southern Association of School Superintendents, or some such title, and before she was two sentences in, he grumbled, "Oh, that," and went back to his coffee and paper. He lacked only his dissertation for his PHD, but told me once that it would take time from his work, and what he was trying to do in his job was bigger than a title he really didn't need.
But maybe the story that speaks of his humble nature best is a family story. My sweet grandmother, my mother's mother, lived with us. As a teenager, I would go to the drugstore to pick up her medicines. This was in the day when you simply signed a ticket, and the bill was sent at the end of the month. One day, MawMaw handed me her little Social Security check, and told me to bring it to Daddy to pay for her medicine. Now, I was not the best math student, but even I could easily tell that check didn't come near the tickets I had signed. I brought it in Hall's office and explained what she had said. As he took it, I said, "But Daddy, her medicine is so much more than that." His hand flew up, and his blue eyes locked with mine, and he said, "Little girl, don't you say a word to your grandmother. You let her think this is enough. Do you understand?" You see, MawMaw was a proud woman. Daddy never wanted credit for taking care of her. He wanted to quietly do what was right.
Daddy taught us what it meant to be a family man, from living with his Mother-In-Law from day two of his marriage for the next 36 years, to dropping everything at a moment's notice to go to Texas if his beloved Aunt B called.
My second week of college, I got the flu. Even his dedication to West Feliciana schools could not stop him from coming to Hattiesburg and renting a hotel room for three days to take care of me. As important as everything else was, we, his family, always took priority.
The first August after he retired on the first day of school, I called home and asked how the day had gone. He told me every bell in West Feliciana Schools had gone off, and the day had gone on without him there. He guessed he had done his job preparing them for this day. Daddy, my alarm clock will go off tomorrow, and I will get up and go through my day because you have prepared me for this day. I have learned the lessons, and I am a better person ~ because your job was done well.
A graduate of Louisiana College and L.S.U., Hall dedicated his life to the education of children and was deeply devoted to the West Feliciana school system. After serving as principal, he was appointed superintendent of West Feliciana Schools from 1969-1989 and successfully navigated the parish through very difficult and lean times to lay the groundwork for what would become a top school district in the state. In addition to his work in the parish, his generous service benefited state education through his many efforts in state and national school associations. His devotion to the parish was felt throughout the community because of his service and efforts on many boards and organizations. A truly humble man, even his family was often surprised to read of an accomplishment in the newspaper that he had forgotten to mention.
Born in Newton, Texas on February 18, 1927, he served in WWII in the United States Navy before attending Louisiana College where he met and married his beloved Rachel. He also served as Educational Officer in the USAF stationed at England AFB in Alexandria, as well as a commissioned officer in the US Army Reserve until 1958.
He is survived by his children Wendell Jr., Shannon and his wife Melissa, Amy Hall Daigle and husband Carl and seven grandchildren, Catherine Wilson, Barrett Hall, Madelyn Murgas, Andrew Hall, Blaine Daigle, Caitlyn Blank and Karly Ann Daigle, as well as three great-grandchildren.
Preceded in death by his father, W. H. (Humpy) Hall and his cherished wife Rachel.
Visitation at First Baptist Church St. Francisville December 7, 2017 from 5~7pm, and again from 9-10am preceding service at 10am 12/8/17.
Internment at Mt. Carmel Cemetery in St. Francisville, Louisiana.
THE following was written by Mr Hall's daughter, Amy and read at his funeral ~
Monday, I told my Daddy that I knew he was ready for his trip to be with God and my Mother that he loved with all of his heart. I kissed his head and said, "You're work here is done, and it was a job done well." In the days since, I have reflected on those words—A job done well. So much about who my father was is in that simple statement. For all jobs he took on were done well. Son. Husband. Father. Soldier. Principal. Superintendent. Friend. Civic-Leader. When Hall took on a job, the result was always - a job done well.
Many of those jobs I cannot speak to—so I will take a minute to talk about the one I absolutely know was a job done well—the job of Father. The job of Family Man.
My father was a giant among men, but I was privileged to know the gentle giant. I was struck at a very early age at how he could command a room with simply his voice or a raised hand—but the same voice and hand comforted the tiniest creature and many a crying baby. Each grandbaby that came into their lives, Dee would say, "This one will be mine." And each would attach to Hall immediately. He would rock a baby for endless hours or stroke a crying kitten until it purred. And I was in awe. I often laugh at how many times in recent years he settled a dispute over the house heater with a very grown me by simply saying, "Little Girl." His strength was in his kindness and his ability to bring calm to anything because he could protect, direct and handle anything.
He taught me what love looks like. He taught many what love looks like. He doted on my mother, and my mother on him. When people talk about Daddy, they talk about Momma. They were truly a team. Love was an open and flowing gift in our home. They truly embodied the scripture: The two shall be as one. As I thought about how to convey this, I struggled, because the love in our house was an aura; no single event could do it justice. I was talking to their very dear friend, Teeta, and she gave me the perfect example. She said when she moved here and became involved, she constantly heard people talking about Rachel Ann Hall. "Rachel Ann Hall would take care of that," or "Rachel Ann Hall would be there." It was quite some time before she realized it was two people—that it wasn't Rachel ANN, A-N-N, Hall, but Rachel AND, A-N-D, Hall. I felt that was the perfect way to explain who they were. Two people that had long since become one.
Daddy was a wise soul. The big picture was never hard for him to find. He often saw what many didn't. My brother, Shannon, shared this week how when asked for advice, Daddy would present him with multiple options, and when Shannon questioned why he wouldn't just tell him what to do, Daddy responded it was better to teach him how to make good decisions or live with the consequences of his bad decisions than it was for him to tell him what to do. Daddy prepared us well through lessons and examples.
He possessed true charm—a gentleman to the core. But he loved fun, especially making fun - of Momma, of me, of the boys. He could flip off a most outrageous line, and if you didn't see it coming, well - you were "got". Those dancing blue eyes were often the only clue. And it was constant. How many times I went and asked Momma about some ridiculous something because he, with a straight face, had me believing what couldn't possibly be real. Just last week, when he moved to hospice, a nurse came in the room and said, "You must be his daughter," and without so much as a hint of a dimple, he looked over and said, "You told them you were my daughter, Honey?" The poor little nurse…. This is only one example. He was full of them. It was one thing I will cherish forever. His constant play shaped each of us. No one was safe from being the recipient of one of his little jokes. He loved every minute of it, and from it I learned ~
Life needs breaks. Take time to play. Laugh. Enjoy the journey.
But the character trait that made him most amazing to me through all the years was how principled and humble he was. Daddy taught me to believe in something - to study a situation and apply my morals to it. To determine what was truly right, and then, with all that I had, embrace my convictions and move forward with quiet determination to make the world a better place. And to always do it for the right reason. To do it simply because it was the right thing to do, not because of credit that could be given. He never made a choice for his family or the school system because it was in Hall's best interest, but only because it was the right thing to do. We often found out later, from the newspaper or other people, about some position or honor that he had received. I remember one Sunday morning as we were having breakfast before Church, Momma was reading the paper, and looked up and asked if he had forgotten to tell her something. He honestly looked confused. She began reading an article that talked about Daddy being elected President of the Southern Association of School Superintendents, or some such title, and before she was two sentences in, he grumbled, "Oh, that," and went back to his coffee and paper. He lacked only his dissertation for his PHD, but told me once that it would take time from his work, and what he was trying to do in his job was bigger than a title he really didn't need.
But maybe the story that speaks of his humble nature best is a family story. My sweet grandmother, my mother's mother, lived with us. As a teenager, I would go to the drugstore to pick up her medicines. This was in the day when you simply signed a ticket, and the bill was sent at the end of the month. One day, MawMaw handed me her little Social Security check, and told me to bring it to Daddy to pay for her medicine. Now, I was not the best math student, but even I could easily tell that check didn't come near the tickets I had signed. I brought it in Hall's office and explained what she had said. As he took it, I said, "But Daddy, her medicine is so much more than that." His hand flew up, and his blue eyes locked with mine, and he said, "Little girl, don't you say a word to your grandmother. You let her think this is enough. Do you understand?" You see, MawMaw was a proud woman. Daddy never wanted credit for taking care of her. He wanted to quietly do what was right.
Daddy taught us what it meant to be a family man, from living with his Mother-In-Law from day two of his marriage for the next 36 years, to dropping everything at a moment's notice to go to Texas if his beloved Aunt B called.
My second week of college, I got the flu. Even his dedication to West Feliciana schools could not stop him from coming to Hattiesburg and renting a hotel room for three days to take care of me. As important as everything else was, we, his family, always took priority.
The first August after he retired on the first day of school, I called home and asked how the day had gone. He told me every bell in West Feliciana Schools had gone off, and the day had gone on without him there. He guessed he had done his job preparing them for this day. Daddy, my alarm clock will go off tomorrow, and I will get up and go through my day because you have prepared me for this day. I have learned the lessons, and I am a better person ~ because your job was done well.
