John Walton Bain
December 3, 1933
April 22, 2008

My Dad was one of the most interesting people that I have ever met --- and I have met lots of people for 52 years and have traveled around the world.

He was at once kind and severe. Generous and tight. Jolly and morose. Optimistic and then extremely pessimistic. Blessing one moment and cursing (literally) the next.

Many times in my life my heart swelled with love for him and pride in him and then the next minute I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands! There is not one individual on the planet who ever inspired greater or more intense emotion from my own heart than John Bain.

I've seen him so angry that his face was red and he seemed that he would explode . . . and I've seen him weep over the simplest things. There were many times in my life as a son that I wished for certain things from him . . . but there was never a single time that I can remember when I asked him for help that he refused me.

I would have to say that my Dad was a stranger to me in many ways for the first 25 years of my life. As he "remembered" my childhood and youth in these latter years he always seemed to have a different recollection than I did. He seemed to be mostly absent, not very involved, not close or personal, not chummy. Not much hunting, fishing, or playing catch in the back yard.

I don't think that my Dad really knew how to be a father when I was born . . . or the best way to be a husband. He never neglected me or abused me . . . I was not lacking or deprived because of him or in spite of him. None of this was intentional (he wasn't ever even aware of this short-coming that I know of) . . . he just didn't seem to be equipped to be that Leave It to Beaver, Father Knows Best, Dick Van Dyke, Cosby kind of Dad.

His Dad (Neely Bain) was 67 years old when he was born. Neely died when Dad was only a kid himself. So, Dad never really had much memory of a father of his own. Only a very old man who could hardly get around, aloof and distant, someone who had already expended and spent almost all of his own life.

But, when I became a man myself --- I found John W. Bain to be someone who could relate to men. He could be their friend and confidant. My Dad and I became the best of friends. Or, at least, he became one of my most important friends (he certainly seemed to feel the same about me). I never made a decision as a man --- business, personal, or even spiritual without first sharing it with him to get his advice.

I've been silently lamenting since his death that we never "connected."

Though I am continually insulted and accused by my wife and kids of being just like Papaw, we seemed most often, from my point of view, to be like oil and water --- or maybe more like gasoline and fire!

I've told everyone for years that there were only two people in the whole world who knew exactly which of my "buttons" to push to make me ballistically angry --- My Dad and my wife.

After 32 years of marriage, Terri has just about given up and signed me off as not worth the trouble ----- but Dad never let me down --- he cranked me up almost to the very end. And he never did it purposely (unlike my spouse) and never knew it when he did it.

Daddy wanted his apartment and his car at 90 or 95 degrees year round --- its never too cold for me.

I'm a Conservative Reagan Republican --- Dad was a yellow dog Democrat.

He watched CNN 24 hours a day --- I watch the Fox News Network and listen to Rush and Hannity.

I played sports --- he never did. I played the guitar ---- he wanted to, but never did. He never owned a computer --- they are at the center of my professional life. I preached for a living and Dad could never conceive of "work" that did not involve washing, sanding, taping, painting, waxing or detailing.

Dad sold cars and I sold lasers. He never understood the laser business.

He drank coffee and I drank tea (though not quite as much as Danny --- which is the reason that he is so big). He always knew more than me --- and I always knew more than him.

Did we connect? No. We were never pals or chums. Never hunting, fishing, barbecue buddies.

Sometimes I couldn't relate to him no matter how hard I tried --- and I know that he often faced the same gulf when he was trying to get along with me.

But I never doubted that he loved me. And I know that I always loved him. We were good friends in spite of all of our differences.

Upon reflection, it seems to me that more than any other kind of activity --- I fought, fussed, and argued with my Dad more than anything else.

But it seems to me that in MY latter years that that kind of relationship very much describes my walk with my Heavenly Father! And the way I see it . . . if I get as much out of that conflagration as I did out of my rounds with John W. Bain . . . . . I'll be OK.

I already miss you, Daddy.

Try not to make Jesus mad.

Den