Anne LeGare

As I drove in the funeral procession today and watched the oncoming traffic pull over to the side of the road to let us pass, I wanted to say to each one of them: Do you know who’s in that hearse? Did you know that Buck died Tuesday? Do you know this is S.C. Lee – the one our Junior High is named after?

Then I said out loud, partly to God, partly to myself: “Our world is a little bit worse today because Buck Lee is gone.”

We’ve only lived in this small town for 11 years, so we’re newcomers. The cemetery where they laid Buck to rest today held graves of citizens from 150 years ago. Some of their “kin” still attend our church. I can’t imagine having roots in one place for so long. A lot of them were related to Buck.  His parents were some of the original founders of our church, after all.

At the funeral today people talked about Buck’s lovely wife, Lynette, who died before we got here. Buck loved Lynette deeply, and couldn’t wait to be with her in heaven. I learned that Buck could cook, and people loved his banana pudding, pecan pies, and peach cobbler. Our family never got to sample those things or even visit him in his home.

But we were still blessed, because we worshiped with Buck and his family, even if it was for a short time. Buck drove himself to church well into his 80s. When we dropped off our children at Sunday School, we would see Buck sitting in the hallway, taking roll for the children’s department. That was one of the places he felt most comfortable in his 74 years of church membership. And the children loved him.

He told funny stories, mostly about himself. One story that stuck with me was about when he was the Sunday School Superintendent. He said he put out a suggestion box for people to comment about the quality of the Sunday School department. After several weeks with no responses, he practically begged for suggestions. He said he finally got one scrap of paper in the box, and it said “Get a new Sunday School Superintendent!”

When we sat near Buck in church, I would steal glances at him because I kind of hero-worshiped him. He was so kind to everyone. He had a smile for all reasons, for all seasons, no matter how old or stooped he got. Christ lived in him.

When we visited Buck in the nursing home, he was as interested in our children as their own grandparents. He often said he wanted to steal our twins. It made us all feel special.

Yes, the world is a LOT worse today because S.C. Lee died. See you in heaven, dear Buck.