Remembering Arch--"Whelp, you won't believe this..."

When the forsythia breaks forth in all its sunshine glory, I remember Arch McFadyen.  Arch, age twenty, died five years ago along with three friends in a boating accident off the shores of Oak Island, North Carolina. The grief is still very palpable for all who loved and knew him, especially for his family and closest friends, of whom my daughter Eleanor is one.

Those who knew Arch loved him.  He brought sunshine with him, especially on his trips back to Raleigh when he was a student at Lees-McRae College.  On one such Sunday, Arch came up to me after the sermon and commented, "Dr. Herman, I really liked your sermon; it was really good today---at least the part I was awake for.  I have to admit I lost sleep last night..."  Then there came the story about "why" he had lost sleep.  "Whelp...you wouldn't believe what happened to me this week..." That's how the tales began, with a "Whelp" or a "Well sir."  The tales had do with mountain bears, and ski incidents, and car accidents, and power outages, and everyday events that seemed to grow and explode with irony and laughter in their telling.

My daughter compiled a book of  Arch stories a number of years ago that is shelved in the library of the Greystone Baptist Church in Raleigh (where I had the privilege of baptizing both Arch and his sister Abby).  But the living stories of Arch are told each day by the people who loved him most as they live out the joy and zest for life which Arch so well exhibited.

Arch did not live long, but he lived well and enjoyed each day.  Today in his memory I will enjoy the forsythia's brilliant blooms, and live life more joyfully, and spin a tall tale, and find laughter in some seemingly insignificant event.

Whelp, what else can I do but say "thanks, Arch! "