DRINKING TOGETHER
A
news item out of Harlingen, Texas caught my eye. McHenry Tichenor, 89, is a
veteran of the 111th Ammunition Train, 36th Division, which fought in France
during World War I, a 186-man unit. In the 70 years since they were sent off
to war 184 of the men have passed on, a number of them not surviving the war
itself. When they had their last reunion 25
years ago there were 65 still living.
Now
there are only two. Tichenor will reunite with the other survivor of the
unit, Roy Baker, 94, this week in Oklahoma City. They will drink champagne
together. Many years ago the veterans purchased a bottle of Moet champagne
with the understanding that the last survivor would drink in memory of all
the others. Not wanting to drink alone, Tichenor and Baker are getting
together to drink in meaningful memory.
The
writeup explains that a bottle of spirits for the last survivor is an old
military custom, dating back at least to the Civil War. Tichenor hopes that
it might be a joyous occasion. He doesn't want to moan over the past, as he
put it, but to find things to laugh about. The occasion has given Tichenor
opportunity to say that while he saw lots of death in France, "It was
futile. We had no business in it. What we've done in our wars is we've
destroyed our natural resources."
One
is left to wonder if after 70 years to think about it if most veterans would
not reach a similar conclusion regarding the futility of rational creatures
meeting in mortal combat on a field of battle. The chances are that if
Tichenor's 184 buddies who have passed on could speak their verdict would
not be all that different. And Tichenor is a man who might be listened to,
for he is an authentic survivor in more ways than one. At 89 he still drives
to work every day, owning as he does nine radio stations in six Texas towns.
I
was so intrigued by this story that I could not turn it loose. I told Ouida
that if I were a poet I would write a poem about those two old men who went
to war together when they were but boys now drinking together as old men in
memory of they're not sure what. I find myself wanting to meet and drink
with them. There are questions I would like to ask, and I might help them to
find something to laugh about. That part of the story I find especially
touching: they are hopeful that they can find cause to laugh together.
Seventy years later!
I
shared the story with some of my aged friends at a nursing home I visit on a
regular basis. Birdie, who was abused as a girl and has nursed the
bitterness for some 70 years, responded that if she met with the two
veterans that she would have nothing to laugh about. For sometime I have
tried to help her to overcome her bitterness and to forgive the stepfather
who was mean to her. "I had to work all the time behind a plow, and I
got very little schooling and never even had a doll," she has told me.
She married an older man late in life and is now a widow. I tell her that as
she allows Jesus to make his home in her heart that he
will forgive the step-father as he forgave those who crucified him.
I
told Birdie that if the two old veterans would use the occasion to count
their blessings that they would find plenty of things to rejoice about, and
that she too could forget the pains of yesteryear if she would name her
blessings and think about good things. Then I sang a few lines of the old
hymn with which she was familiar:
When
upon life's billows you are tempest tossed;
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.
Even
though Birdie is not a well woman, she was soon counting her blessings. She
still has a good appetite; she can walk up and down the halls without
assistance; she can feed and dress herself. "I have a lot to be
thankful for," she finally conceded. It would have been a good time for
champagne.
Ruth
is confined to a wheelchair and has no one to visit her except a nephew who
recently conned her into letting him sell her diamond rings, which has left
her terribly depressed. When I told her the story of the last two soldiers
of a World War I unit meeting and drinking together, she wept. But that was
not unusual for Ruth, for she often weeps, especially when we say the Lord's
prayer together.
That
you may know that amusing things do happen in nursing home I must tell you
of the dear old senile soul who was confined to a wheel-chair not far from
where I was sitting with Ruth. She motioned for me, so I excused myself from
Ruth to sit with her for a few minutes. She wanted me to free her from her
chair, but I assured her that the attendant would soon take care of her.
Back with Ruth I was telling her that we can praise God in a nursing home as
well as at church, and I proceeded to describe how the angels in heaven
praise God: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, who
is, and who is to come!"
The
old sister that I had tried to pacify, still in distress over her
confinement, overheard what I was saying to Ruth. Suddenly she blurted out
for all in the big room to hear, Holy,
holy, holy! Get me out of here!"
That
really broke us up and we all had a great laugh. It was time for champagne!
Surely the angels took notice!
Drinking
together is as old as human history and it has long had symbolic value.
Jesus "took the cup" out of the culture of the times. He did not
invent it. And when he knocked at the door of one of his churches, inviting
anyone who would to dine with him, he drew upon a cultural practice with
which they were familiar. Drinking together is sharing in an event, perhaps
one fraught with great significance. Drinking together tends to break down
barriers and makes one vulnerable to intimacy. It might be a meaningful
expression of friendship and fellowship.
The
two old soldiers uncorking the bottle of champagne in memory of their
buddies of bygone days reminded me of the meaning of the Lord's Supper. To
do the Supper "in memory of me" must mean more than calling to
mind a Person. It is remembering and sharing in an event. It is not simply
to bring to mind the Cross, but the resurrection that followed and the
victory that Christ has given us.
And
it is being thankful. As we partake of the cup our hearts can rejoice and we
can be thankful that there was a Calvary and an Easter morning. And there is
the church through the centuries who "Mid toil and tribulation, and
tumult of her war; she waits the consummation of peace forever more."
When
the old veterans uncork the bottle they will surely drink to the country for
which they fought together, "Here's to the land of the free and the
home of the brave."
And
they will be thankful.
They
will remember old Sarge who was as tough as nails but in his moment of valor
risked his life when he pulled a young private to safety under fire.
"Here's to old Sarge, who, if he was here would surely say, 'Fellows,
this champagne is worth waitin' 70 years for!'