I’m deeply honored to be asked to play a part in this
service, to reflect upon the life of one of the most remarkable men I’ve ever
known, my Uncle Leland Vaughan.
Leland was only seventeen when I was born, so he was the
young cool Uncle. My first memories of
him are sitting in his lap on the sofa in my grandmother’s living room, running
my fingers through the Fuller-brush flat top college boy haircut of his and seeing
that smirky mischievous smile on his face.
That haircut didn’t stand the test of time, but that smile became his
signature.
Leland’s life was a many-splendored thing. I hope you identify some of the ways his life
blessed you as I name some of the qualities I so enjoyed and admired.
Leland was a
genuine friend. He knew that one of
the great blessings of life was making and keeping close friends. Leland had friends from college, friends from
banking, friends from golfing adventures; circles of friends he made time to be
with regularly for more than 40 years. His
life can teach us that joy and peace are found in people, not in things. He challenges all of us to be friends who
love at all times.
Leland was an
ambassador. Almost every person I’ve
met who’s visited Edisto knew my Uncle Leland.
I often called him the Edisto Ambassador. You couldn’t walk through the pro shop at the
golf course without him greeting you, getting to know you, and sharing a couple
of good stories with you, fact or fiction.
The initiative he took in meeting people and the interest he took
Leland was a
natural entertainer. When you were
with him, you couldn’t help but have a good time. He had a way of talking to you, listening to
you, and sharing with you that made you smile and laugh and feel better about
yourself and about life. So often, when
Leland’s friends got together, he was the emcee of the event. He could write a skit or tell a story that
would have you rolling on the floor. He
used that stuffed whatever it is, Charlie, in some incredible antics. Just a few weeks ago, at the big Saturday
night concert he conceived and brought together, as sick as he was, he wrote
much of the material that kept the event fun and flowing. Leland had a gift for enjoying life and
leading others in doing the same. His
example invites all of us to enjoy each day of this brief beautiful
journey.
Leland was a
mentor. I’ve met people from many
places who’ve told me that some of the most important lessons they learned
about business, about banking, about customer service, about life they learned
from Leland.
My dad, Leland’s oldest brother, died thirty-five years
ago, leaving my brother, sister and me, two young adults and a teenager,
without the fatherly coaching we needed.
Leland was always ready to help.
When Linda and I were given the opportunity to move out of a
church-owned parsonage and build our own home, Leland guided me step-by-step through
the process of securing a mortgage. Not
surprisingly, the lender we worked with in Spartanburg knew Leland and had played
softball with him a few years earlier. I
know that my brother and sister could add numerous stories of times we called
Uncle Leland or he called us, and helped us through a tough time. In fact, one of the few times I knew I’d made
him mad was when I went through a tough transition from one church to another
and didn’t call him. The next time I saw
him, he said, “Yeah, Ronald, I had to
hear about what happened from someone else.
I wish you’d called your Old Uncle.
I’d like to have helped you if I could.”
I deserved and appreciated that correction. Leland’s wisdom and
strength will live on in me and so many others to whom he was a mentor.
Leland was a
trickster. Some of my earliest and
most vivid memories of my Uncle were of him getting me into trouble. I bet many of you have similar stories you
could share and even more you wouldn’t share in this particular setting.
When I was just a preschooler, our family was outside
Atlanta’s Cyclorama, the rotating Civil War attraction, when I informed Leland
and my other Vaughan Uncle Harry that I needed a restroom. Instead of taking me to the facilities, they
encouraged me to, shall I say, desecrate a flagpole outside the
attraction. He repeated that story
often.
I was still a preschooler when Leland sent me to the
bedside of my ailing grandfather to ask him a question which sounded fine in a
preschooler’s mind. Years later, when I
learned the actual metaphorical meaning of what I’d asked, I realized that
question was, shall we say, not very nice.
Then, I understood why my grandfather looked at me the way he did before
he answered.
One of my favorite Leland shenanigans happened on a trip
to Las Vegas. Leland had a friend who
bore a striking resemblance to George Burns.
This man, a widower, didn’t get out a great deal, so Leland and his buddies
invited him to go with them on the trip.
In fact, they bought him a new pair of glasses for the trip, just like
the ones George Burns wore at the time.
George Burns was performing in Las Vegas when Leland and the gang
arrived, so they made the most of it.
Several times, Leland or another front-man would enter a nice
restaurant, ask for a table and, when turned down, add that “Mr. Burns was hoping to dine here tonight.” Let’s just say they ate well that week. In fact, Leland reached Burns’ manager and
got the real George and the fake George together for a conversation and a
photo-op.
A few years ago, Leland called the Chick-fil-A customer
care line and somehow got my brother, Barry, on the phone. Barry works in quality control and new
product development in the Atlanta corporate office. Leland, taking on one of his many personas,
told how he was traumatized by finding a feather in his Chick-fil-A
sandwich. Barry didn’t recognize his
Uncle’s voice for a while, and very patiently and professionally explained that
the company’s chicken processing practices would make that highly unlikely if
not impossible. Leland then raised the
volume of his complaint, now protesting that Barry was calling him a liar. This went back and forth for a while before Leland
broke into laughter and Barry knew that he’d just been initiated into a big
club; those who’d been had by Leland Vaughan.
Leland knew how to get you and make you glad he did.
Leland was free. I was in a restaurant with Leland in
Atlanta. My Uncle Harry, who had
recently retired from Georgia Tech, was found to have pancreatic cancer and was
only hours from death. We sat there
eating when Leland began thinking out loud about the brevity of life and the
danger of delaying your pursuit of the life you want to live. He said,
Ronald Dee, I’ve been playing the game for a long time and I’ve won a
pretty good stack of chips. But there
has to come a time when you go to the window and start cashing in those
chips. Your Uncle Harry waited too long
to do that. Your daddy died before he
got to enjoy what he’d worked for. I
don’t want to make that mistake.
Not too long after that, Leland told the bank where he’d
worked since his graduation from PC that he was retiring and moving to
Edisto. He later told me how strange he
felt when he held his final bank paycheck in his hand. But he also told me that he never felt more
alive than when he turned the page and began that new chapter of his life. Leland was free to choose how he wanted to
live.
As a pastor, I envy another expression of Leland’s
freedom. He told me that when he left
banking and moved to the island, he had attended his last committee
meeting. He was ready to help his church
and his community in any way they needed, but he was not spending another
minute sitting around a table trying to figure out what to do. He was free to choose his life and live his
life as he believed best. What a
challenge to all of us.
Leland was family.
He never spoke to me that he didn’t
ask about my wife, Linda, about our children and grandchildren, about my work,
and about my happiness. He got after me
when I didn’t call often enough to check in.
Every time I spoke to Leland, face to face or by telephone,
he told me how proud of and grateful for his own family he was. I’d hear about my Aunt Anne, the beautiful
work she was doing and the fun they were having. He caught me up on Mike and Bryan and Kelly
and David. You four came into Leland’s
life in different ways, but he loved you all just the same. I never heard him refer to you as natural or
adopted or make any other distinction.
He was your dad and you were his beloved children. And, of course, Leland loved to tell me about
his amazing grandchildren. He glowed with joy when he talked about
you. During one of those two-way family
updates, Leland gave me one of the greatest words of advice I’ve ever heard
about being a parent. He said,
Love your children. Pray for
them. Coach them when they’ll let
you. But don’t worry about them. Worry doesn’t help and it’s a waste of life.
I saw Leland’s devotion to family so clearly when his
mother, my grandmother, suffered a stroke and had to leave her home in Mauldin
to receive nursing care. Leland moved
her to Greenwood, to a facility near his workplace. He visited her several
times most every day. At one point, he
fed her every meal she ate. He made sure
she was receiving the best of care. And
he listened to some of the most heartbreaking questions a son could hear. As Ella withered away in that bed, a little
at a time, she often asked Leland, “Why
is God leaving me here like this, Leland?
Why won’t the Lord take me home?
I’ve asked Him so many times!” I don’t know every answer he gave his
mother, but I know he sometimes said, “Mama,
some mansions take a long time to get ready.
God has something very special He’s getting ready for you.”
When she died, I saw Leland standing by her casket with a
pained expression on his face. He walked
over to the window and staring outside asked, loudly enough for me to hear, “Why did she have to suffer like that?” I didn’t tell him then, because I didn’t
see it then, but I told him later what I believed. I said,
“Leland, none of us could see God glorified in the way Mama
suffered. But we did see God’s glory in
the love that surrounded her. Your daily
care for your Mom gave meaning to the final chapter of her earthly life.”
We Vaughans have lost the ringleader who brought us all
together. Leland taught us how to be
family. Let’s honor him and bless each
other by doing that.
Leland was a
grateful soul. When Leland learned
that he had stomach cancer, one of his friends asked him if he was angry that
sickness struck him so suddenly and severely.
As he related the story to me, Leland answered,
What I feel is thankful. I’ve
lived for 76 years with perfect health.
I’d never been in the hospital before this happened. I’ve been to countless places I never thought
I’d see and done so many things I couldn’t have imagined I’d do. I don’t want to be sick. I certainly don’t want to die, but I have no
complaints. I’ve had a great life.
Leland did have a
great life. And his grateful soul
allowed him to see that and cherish it and praise God for it and come to the
end of it with thanksgiving. I want to
live like that. When my time comes, I
want to die like that. And that leads me
to the most important thing I can say about my Uncle Leland.
Leland was God’s
child. I was on my way home from church
and had pulled into the Walmart parking lot when my phone rang. I saw Leland’s name and quickly took the
call. He wanted to tell me about how
things were going. He was beginning to
see that he probably wouldn’t overcome his cancer for very long. My Uncle was a deeply feeling man but not
often openly emotional, but as our conversation began to wind down, his voice
began to crack and he said, through his tears,
I’m going to fight this every way I can, but I want you to know that
however this turns out, you don’t have to worry about your old Unc. I’m good.
The Big Man and I have everything worked out. When the time comes, I’m ready.
I’ve shared many reasons why I loved and admired my Uncle
Leland, but this makes all the others pale in comparison. Leland knew he was God’s child, through his
faith in Jesus Christ. And now, God has
welcomed His beloved child home.