Tribute to Brother Curtis Owen

When people completely fill the "room" in their lives, they are considered representative of that generation, concept, or function. When thinking about men and women of the greatest generation, my mind does go to people like my own granddad. However, a man of that generation that is representative to me not only as part of the greatest generation but also as a pillar in Zion is Brother Curtis Owen. When you look up the term "hardshell" or "mossback deacon" you will find his picture as the definition. 'Nuff said.

Representing all that was right about America and the old church during the middle of the 20th century, Brother Curtis was a veteran of WWII as well as a lifelong Primitive Baptist and deacon of Bethel Church in McMahan, Texas. Coming from a generation of character, color, and virtue, Brother Curtis was plainspoken, honest, and fiercely loyal to what he held dear. When I met him - when I was a young boy - he still had plenty of vim and vigor though already a much older man.  He carried the passion of the cause of Zion all his days and died in full assurance of the faith once delivered that he rejoiced to hear preached. Just shy of 101yrs old when departing from this earth, heaven is richer and the earth lesser with his spirit in one and not the other. An era is passing in this country as that generation passes from us, and Bethel Church enters a new era without him manning his post on the bulwarks of the city.

Though he and I never lived close to each other, what endeared me to him was his time and attention to little nobodies like me. I can't remember a time being around him when he didn't take the time to talk to me personally. Though small of stature, his personality was immense to fill a room or conversation should he choose to, yet he was personable enough to make even small children feel to have a part of that which he held most dear. As I got older, it dawned on me that his wisdom showed in unseen ways.

An old cliché declares "brevity is the soul of wit," and Brother Curtis had this in spades. However, his quips when considered had great wisdom or advice to them. Perhaps no greater personal example of this in my life is when he met my future wife for the first time. When I was somewhere between a boy and man, I remember asking Brother Curtis's dear companion Sister Edith - his perfect complement in every way with her spirit - to please pray for me to find a good woman to be my wife. About 3 years later, I attended the Camp Meeting with my "girlfriend" who i would marry less than 2 yrs later. Sister Edith came to me and said, "I've been praying for you, and I think my prayers have been answered." Brother Curtis was to the point, "Is that your girl?" "Yes sir." "She's purty." While that statement was funny and very concise, it hit me later by the way he said it that those two words meant, "I approve."

If that story was an example of his color, his continual presence in God's house is a testament to his character and faith. His presence at Bethel Church or the Camp Meeting were a given. His color in God's house also made him memorable. I don't think I've ever seen someone beat 4/4 time while leading singing the way he did. His patented "slouch" during a bad sermon was something no preacher wanted to see during one of his efforts. In my earliest memories of Bethel and the Camp Meeting, he called leaders, and his attention to young boys to get the experience as well as encouragement while leading showed his spirit to the cause.

No person of this nature is without foibles and flaws, and yet sometimes one's flaws make their mark even more indelible. He once told me (when he saw me wear a black Stetson), "I see you wore a black hat the other day. You know what they say about black hats? Well, sometimes it's enough to play the part of the bad guy. Keeps everyone else honest!" When he was perceived as the bad guy, one thing I never had to doubt: Anything he did, he did with the cause in mind. Doesn't mean he was perfect in his thinking or execution, but I believe his motivation was 100% for the good of Zion. Having lived through the Great Depression and a World War naturally speaking and some tumultuous times spiritually speaking, he wanted the church to see good days and have extended seasons of peace and prosperity.

Thinking about his life, singing certainly springs to mind. As a lifelong Primitive Baptist and avid Sacred Harp singer, he loved the good old songs of Zion. To men of his stripe, singing was not a lead-in to preaching, a prelude to worship, or a duty. It was worship from the fervency of the heart. A line from a British nursery rhyme seems appropriate when thinking of singing and Brother Curtis, "And he shall have music wherever he goes."

Again, a man of this magnitude was made even more so by taking the time one on one with me. My last visit with him was after he had been put in a nursing home. When we walked into the room, he and I chatted for several minutes, and he wanted to know where I'd been - preaching among our people - and how my life had been going. Every time I would mention a church I preached at that he knew, he would reply, "Good folks" or "Good people." When I would give him updates on my family: wife, children, mom, siblings, he would take an interest as if it was his own family. To him it was. He was my kind of people. 'Nuff said.