Lance Delano Johnson

Lance Delano Johnson, or Delano, was a cattle farmer.  At least, I think that’s how he probably saw himself.  To many, he was an accountant at Ford Motor Company who liked to dabble in cattle. But those who saw him that way may have confused how he made his living with who he really was.  That’s a common error.  We let the things we can see a person do cause us to believe that is who the person is.

Delano was my father-in-law and one of the three most influential men in my life.  Born on Christmas day in 1932, he left us much too soon, but left a legacy that any man would be proud of.  As we reflect on our own lives, we realize, as we look back, that there were certain men and women who contributed in a positive way to who we are today.  In my life, one of those men was Delano Johnson.

Delano was a soft-spoken man, but held his convictions strongly and without apology.  If he disagreed, he would tell you.  And he would tell you in a way that might not persuade you, but which would cause you to consider what he had said and reconsider your own opinions.

Delano rightly viewed me with a degree of suspicion and skepticism when I first knocked on the door of that white frame house in Five Points, Alabama, just west of Belgreen which is just west of Russellville.  I say “rightly” because I had one reason for climbing the steps to his front porch.  I was there to steal his oldest daughter.  (I felt the same way when young men knocked on my door with my own daughter and will likely be downright paranoid when some young whippersnapper dares to ask to see any of my granddaughters.)  But even though we didn’t get off to a great start we became friends and I began to understand who this man was, at least to some degree.  And it probably didn’t help matters that I was just a little more brash at 18 than I am at 65.

The first time I actually met Delano, he was sitting in his living room holding a fencing tool.  He asked if I knew what it was.  At the time, I had no clue.  I pretty sure he was making a point that I was some city boy who had no business trying to date a cattle farmer’s daughter.

And, make no mistake about it, at least on some scale, Delano was a cattle farmer.  He seemed to always have cattle, had just sold cattle or was in the process of repurchasing his cattle.  Yep. I said “repurchasing”.  As best I can recall, much of his buying and selling involved transactions back and forth with his brother Joe.  I used to joke that he and Joe made a good living in the cattle business by buying and selling to each other.  My wife never found that observation about her dad as humorous as I did.

Delano did most of his farming at a place called Pleasant Site. At Christmas, and at other times when the family was together, it was not unusual to see Delano, Joe, his other brother Bob, along with his brother-in-law, Boyce climb into the cab of an old pickup and head down to Pleasant Site or Cody Branch to see the farm and check out the cattle.  I should add here that the truck was not a super cab, or even an extended cab.  Did they even exist then?  I’m referring to four grown men squeezing into the front seat of a truck and riding off into the sunset to spend time with the cattle and telling stories about who knows what.

Speaking of the cattle and Cody branch, I will always remember the time I learned that I was not a cattle farmer.  Delano and his son John were going down to give shots to a sick cow.  The cow was herded into the head gate (a device similar to stocks that holds the cow in one place), where it was held by John and me while Delano managed the needle.  Needless to say, I ended up pushing against the unfortunate end of the cow to hold it in one place and keep it from moving so that the shot could be administered.  Yes, you see where this is going.  I’ll just say that even if the cow can’t move, there are things that can, and I left there with some clothes that probably were best served by disposing of them as quickly as possible.

Delano loved nicknames.  He had a pet nickname for every family member it seemed.  I think mine was “Frankie Lotta”.  Don’t ask, because I can’t explain it.  There was not a lot of logic to those nicknames for most of us, but they became pretty standard fare for everyone.  I’m sure he had good reasons for the nicknames he assigned.  He also had a fondness for cheese and peppermint (together).  My wife shares that same appreciation for the two unrelated food groups.

Delano had a unique way of saying some things.  I don’t remember all of them, but there was one I remember and have repeated.   If someone was pretty intelligent, Delano referred to that person as a “knowing kind of fellow”.  That’s a pretty good way of putting it.  I often tell my wife that I am a knowing kind of fellow.

But back to dating his daughter.  Delano finally relented and I began to date Gail. I was a high school senior and she was a junior.  He still was not thrilled and only allowed us to see each other, with certain stipulations.  First, we had to be home by ten and not a minute later (or maybe it was nine).  I’m pretty sure I could not pick her up before six or maybe seven, and this one night per weekend.  And we better be opening those car doors and exiting the car by the time it came to a stop in her driveway, if not before.  Lingering was strictly frowned upon.  The first time I brought her home, the porch light came on before the car even stopped.  I knew that was just a warning shot fired across the bow.

But Delano’s most restrictive condition really burned my bacon.  As a matter of fact, it made me downright angry.  But rather than cutting off my nose to spite my face, I accepted his terms (as if I had a choice).  Consider this.  For every hour that Gail and I dated, I had to spend an hour in church.  Do the math.  If we went out from seven to ten on Friday night, then that meant at least three hours in church that week.  When you consider that by now I was a freshman in college, working at the truck stop on Sunday mornings and most Wednesday evenings, which meant every time the church doors opened and I wasn’t working, I had better be there.

And to make matters worse, they attended church in Florence some forty miles away.  So, while they drove from Five Points and I drove from Phil Campbell, I still made it a point to be there.  On occasion, I washed as best I could in the truck stop restroom and made my way directly from work.  And I know what you’re thinking.  At least you got to ride back and forth to and from church together.  Nope.  That didn’t come until much later.  Suffice it to say I paid a high price for his daughter.  I felt a little like Jacob, who in his desire to marry Rachel had to deal with Laban.

But God is in control.  And those same terms which angered me so much caused me to come under the preaching of Brother Troy Rogers.  And on a Sunday evening in August, while attending church in order to be with Gail, the message spoke clearly to me and I became a follower of Christ.  That was the most important decision of my life, obviously.  So, I shall be eternally thankful to Delano Johnson for his terms and conditions.    By the way, the fact that I was a new Christian did not result in a change of conditions for dating his daughter.  But at least it was now a joy and not a burden to attend church with her.

Delano and I became friends.  At least I considered him a friend and I hope he felt the same about me.  He challenged me in so many ways, especially intellectually.  We discussed politics, church matters and theological issues.  But we never argued.  It was from him that I learned that one could engage in a debate in a civil and respectful manner.

But lest you think all was smooth sailing and that I was welcomed into the family with open arms, it still took time.  When Gail graduated from high school, I gave her an engagement ring which I bought at Zale’s Jewelers on credit.  We showed it to the family and Delano referred to it only as a birthstone ring.

And that’s how that went until a year later, when, after her freshman year in college, the thought of not being together was not an option for either of us.  So, I made my way to Five Points and on an evening in June, I asked if we could talk.  He sat in a chair on the porch and I sat in the porch swing.  I asked for his permission to marry his daughter.  For the next hour, he quizzed me on my salary ($94 per week) and my bills (car payment, ring payment, etc.).  And after a while, he concluded that we could not afford to get married.  I assured him that we could.  But remember, he was an accountant and numbers don’t lie.  I knew it was going to be a financial challenge, but I was young enough and naive enough to believe that love will buy groceries. He knew better.

Finally, he asked, “how long have the two of you been dating?”  A little over two years.  “And how long have you been thinking about getting married?”  Almost two years.  OK, he knows we’re serious about this and there is already some longevity to our relationship.  I just know that he’s going to welcome me into the family.

Nope.  This was his response.

“You two have been thinking about this for a couple of years.  So, why don’t you give me a couple of years to think about it”.  With that, he stood up, said goodnight, and went back into the house, leaving me shell-shocked and confused.  I went home with my tail tucked between my legs.  Our plan was to wed in August was not going to happen, or it was going to happen without his blessing.  Neither option was appealing, to say the least.

A month or two later, Delano had a long discussion with his sister Mary.  Let’s just say that his sister was the apple of all the brothers’ eyes and whatever she said carried a lot of weight. I don’t know what transpired during their conversation, but after it was over, Delano suggested that if we were going to get married in August, someone better get started planning the wedding.  And we did.  On August 23, 1974, Delano Johnson gave his daughter to me in marriage.  He was teary eyed and today, I understand.

Delano loved his grandchildren.  They were a joy to him as he was to them.  As big as any loss I felt when Delano left this life in 1988, was that my grandchildren would not get to know this amazing man and enjoy the benefits of knowing him and the life lessons that he could teach them.  I still think about the influence he could have had on their lives.  I did not want to be bitter about losing him, but I must admit that I felt they were deprived of the opportunity to be loved by and learn from a great man.

Husband, father, grandfather, brother, church deacon, accountant, leader and man of influence.  All these titles were a part of the life of Lance Delano Johnson.  But the greatest title that I came to appreciate about this man was that he became my friend and mentor.  I was blessed by that friendship and will be eternally grateful.