Mrs. Lex’s dad passed away last Sunday the funeral is today at 10 AM. I have been asked to share my first meeting with Norman B. Johnston with the mourners. Norm majored in physics at Indiana Univ. He went on to head up the engineering department for International Harvester. He was very precise about everything did; he questioned everything even the most obvious assumptions and saw wonder in the little things that most of us take for granted. While brief, I think this post captures the character of the man.
Diana asked that I take a moment to share with you my initial meeting with her dad.
We were traveling up from Florida to be at Norm’s lake cottage for Christmas.
Along the way we stopped at a couple of shops.
Well, I thought, I’d better get Norm a Christmas present.
No matter how many times Diana told me not to, or it’s really not necessary, I insisted.
I told her, “Look, I have five dollars and I am willing to spend every penny of it to make a good impression on the father of the woman I love.”
Diana was frustrated and said, “Fine, knock yourself out.”
I looked around and finally decided that I’d get Norm what I thought was, a very nice Christmas ornament.
Well we arrived at the cottage decorated and lit up like the prettiest Christmas card you’ve ever seen.
We went inside - and then I saw it, standing in the corner, glowing as if it had been touched by the hand of God, Norman’s Christmas tree.
Those of you who have seen or heard about Norm’s Christmas ornament collection and his meticulous attention to detail when assembling his Christmas trees will know what mean when I say, “Instantly, I knew. I’d made a mistake.”
At this very minute somewhere, in a dark corner of our basement, buried inside one of our 15-20 tubs of Christmas stuff is that very Christmas ornament that I had bought to impress Diana’s Dad.
As we were getting ready to leave at the end of our visit, Norm’s Christmas ornament still packed away in the corner of my suite case, I noticed that the windshield of my truck could use a little cleaning.
So, I asked Norm for rag.
What ensued was, at the time, one of the strangest conversations I’d ever had.
“Well, what do you want it for?”
“Huh”
“What do you want the rag for?”
“Oh, just to clean the windshield.”
“Inside or out?”
“Huh?”
“Are you cleaning the inside or outside of the windshield?”
“Huh? That can’t possibly make a difference.”
“Well it does. I have rags for the inside and the outside.”
“Huh?”
“I have different rag for cleaning the inside and the out side of windshields.”
“Seriously?”
We walked into the barn and sure enough there they were. Two boxes clearly marked “windshield inside” and “windshield outside.”
I was and ever since have been amazed with Norman’s organization.
When we meet Norm again, you can be assured, God’s tool room will be squared away.
Those of us who were around him before the Alzheimer’s started play tricks with his mind, probably saw him taking copious notes in one of these. (Hold up Cook’s note book)
He made lists of questions he wanted ask, things he wanted to buy, people he met, just about everything.
So now that he’s OK again. He’ll probably want one these.
This is a Christmas present from long ago. (Hold up pen.)
It’s a space pen. I gave it to Norm. He gave it back to me. Now, I’m giving it back to him with this note book so he can write down the things he might what to talk about with us when next we meet. (Place pen and note book into the coffin) If I get it back after this, you’ll read about it in the Journal Gazette or better yet the Inquirer.
Now I offer this simple prayer that I recited as boy but have only grown to understand with age:
Lord, Jesus Christ, save us sinners from the fires of hell. By Your grace invite all souls to the glory of Heaven; especially those of us who most need Your mercy. Amen.
R.I.P. Norm.
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