This space is usually reserved for interviews conducted on the Rewind. But today, we will make an exception. I lost a lifelong friend recently. He was the most courageous person I ever knew. Here is my tribute to him.
Bossier City, LA. – When I went from the newspaper profession to radio in 1998, the man who hired me had a sister named Charlotte.
Charlotte was met with tragedy when her husband was murdered. The killer was sentenced to Angola State Penitentiary in South Louisiana.
Charlotte decided to forgive the convict, so she drove from Knoxville to Angola for a face-to-face meeting.
While there, Charlotte met a farmer who was delivering bundles of produce for the inmates. He drove some three hours one way to provide fresh corn and vegetables. He did this several times.
Charlotte engaged in conversation with this man. She told him she was from Knoxville. He asked if she knew a Jimmy Hyams.
Yes, she said.
When Charlotte returned to Knoxville, she asked me to guess who this man was.
“Don Bernard,’’ I said, without hesitation.
He’s the first person I could think of who fit the description. Kind. Considerate. Farmer. Would go out of his way to help a stranger – even if it meant driving three hours.
If you knew Don Bernard, you would have guessed his name as well.
Don had a heart of gold.
And, sometimes, he had a mind of steel.
He could be hard-headed. But that’s not always bad.
It helped him live much longer than doctors projected, as Don battled cancer initially diagnosed 40 years ago.
It helped him fight through a form of ALS.
It helped him farm and hunt and run and play golf.
It helped him live life the way he wanted to – mostly on his terms.
Cancer might have slowed him down, but it wasn’t going to stop him.
Amazingly, he seldom complained.
“What good would it do?’’ I can hear him saying.
I think the four words Don despised the most were: “You can’t do this.’’
I’m reminded of the time Don took one of his daughters to run a 5K race. When they went to the registration desk, the woman said the daughter could run but Don couldn’t in cowboy boots.
Don had no intention of entering the race that day, but he wasn’t going to be told that he couldn’t.
No sir, you don’t tell Don Bernard he can’t do something.
So, Don registered and ran the 5K – in cowboy boots.
I’d bet a buck he was the only runner in cowboy boots. I’m sure his feet were sore, his ankles in pain, his feet covered with blisters. But Don ran that race — and finished.
Don was a tough hombre. Once, while hunting, he suffered a separated shoulder shooting his rifle. Without medication or assistance, he pulled the shoulder back in place and hunted the next day – shooting left-handed.
Don was also an excellent athlete. He was an accomplished distance runner and pole vaulter in high school. He could shoot a basketball. He was a solid golfer who once, after not playing for years, dusted the cobwebs off his clubs and shot in the 70s.
In high school during P.E., one of the four-week periods required you to learn a gymnastics skill. I was limited to the side-straddle hop.
But then I looked over at Don. He was vaulting. Doing floor exercises. Tumbling. Attacking the balance beam. He was so good, that Northwestern State University, which had a national-championship caliber gymnastics team, invited him to train with some of the Demons’ All-Americans.
Don didn’t take much gruff off anyone. Once, while playing golf at a course in Benton, Louisiana, a guy playing behind Don’s foursome kept hitting the ball into them.
Don had had enough. So he waited on one of the tee boxes and lit into this inconsiderate dude who displayed no golf etiquette.
As Don was chewing the guy out, he realized who it was: former LSU star and PGA Championship winner David Toms.
Oops.
I visited Don at his Benton home in late March of last year. I will always cherish those two hours that we spent reminiscing, telling stories (some of them true), laughing, and recounting the good times we had.
Don Bernard passed away Feb. 4 at the age of 69.
I don’t often cry – but I shed a tear. Maybe more than one.
Don was the most courageous man I ever met. He fought through adversity like a warrior. He was dealt a difficult hand, but he played it brilliantly.
At Don’s celebration of life on Feb. 8, the turnout was extraordinary for this extraordinary man.
Many from the Natchitoches (Louisiana) Central Class of 1973 attended. Many friends in Benton and Bossier City were present. And there must have been 60 members of the Bernard family there.
Don’s older brother Louie Bernard delivered a brilliant eulogy.
But at some point, I had to wonder: While people were raising a toast to Don, was he raising an eyebrow – as he was wont to do — as if to say, “I don’t want all this attention?’’
Don is now pain-free.
That’s good news for him. But hard news to accept for the rest of us.
Rest in peace, my friend. Rest in peace.
