Saturday, September 3, 2016

Remembering Uncle Leland

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
in them having a great experience at Edisto flowed out of one of his core beliefs he repeated to me several times:  “Ronald,” he said, “you’ll go a long way if you just treat people like they matter.”  I don’t think Edisto will ever have a bigger fan or a more effective promoter. 

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. 

Thank you, Leland, for your remarkable life.  You didn’t waste the journey and you were a blessing to us all. 

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