Reflections on the Funeral of Colonel John H. Reeves Jr.
February 1999

I did not attend the visitation with the Reeves family on the Friday night before Colonel's service, but I understand that the funeral home was absolutely packed, with a line that stretched around the room a few times and took an hour or so to get through. Blair Smith told me he met Sam Lavender's widow while standing in line.

Several hundred people attended the service on Saturday, and Oxford Presbyterian Church was filled well beyond overflowing. Even if the crowd had been limited only to Nature Campers, or to folks from VMI, or to individuals from the county, attendance would have been impressively high. Although a sad and solemn occasion, the service constituted a wonderful memorial to the man and a moving tribute to the remarkable number of lives he touched and changed. Matthew Bain remarked that he had never enjoyed a funeral so much. Folks came in from all over. Colonel's first Assistant Director, George Tolley, was there, as was the brother of his last. Joe Irby, my counselor my first summer at Camp 20 years ago, flew in from Louisiana, and others arrived from Missouri, Rhode Island, New Hampshire and New York. When I returned home on Sunday, I counted about 60 current or former staff members in attendance, and that is likely an underestimate, as there were some faces from the 1970's that were unfamiliar to me. Also present were several recent campers (and at least one not-so-recent), a clear testament to the influence Colonel had had even on those who did not share our fortune of working with him. Cammie Tuskey noted how fitting it was that every generation of camper who had known Colonel was represented, since Colonel was able to relate to the younger and older alike.

Before the service, the organist played a number of the old hymns, only a few of which were ever sung at Camp during Colonel's tenure, but which one knew nevertheless held great meaning for him. The recently retired pastor of Oxford Church led much of the service and lifted everyone's spirits with anecdotal humor, helping us to laugh through our tears. We heard of Colonel's high school baseball career on the southern Piedmont: how, with one swing of the bat, he transformed himself from a strikeout king to a legendary figure by hitting the longest home run ever hit in Halifax County. We heard of Colonel's courtship of Miss Trudy: how, as a serviceman on a one-week break home, he first met his life partner, then in only three days convinced her to leave the man to whom she was already betrothed. The pastor made brief but prominent mention of Nature Camp and told one tale that I had not heard before, of the bus breaking down on a field trip and an encounter with a helpful stranger who Colonel swore must have been an angel. It's probably just as well that some of the wilder and juicier stories from Camp over the years did not receive a public airing. The service also included the singing of "The Old Rugged Cross" and the reading of Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar."

As the crowd slowly filed out of the sanctuary and descended the hill to the graveside, a few sprinkles began to fall, but we were fortunate that rain did not force an aborted end to the service. After all, Colonel was always quick to chastise those who rushed to lower the flag when it rained at Camp and to ask them sarcastically whether we had seceded from the union. At the graveside we sang the Lord's Prayer, and I couldn't help but recall the hundreds of evenings spent in the L.S., where the day would end with the Friendship Circle and the sound of Colonel's resonant bass voice. Next we heard a stunningly beautiful duet of a tune written, I believe, by Robin and Linda Williams, with lyrics taken from Stonewall Jackson's putative last words: "Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade of the trees." It was performed by two women Colonel had once heard sing at the church and who he had requested sing at his funeral. But the most touching moment of all followed, when Walter Mehring and Katie Hoffman Doman led us in singing "Thinking of Tomorrow." I had never associated that song with Colonel particularly, although I had hoped it would be included in the service. For those in the audience unfamiliar with the song, it must have been an equally moving experience to have heard these scattered voices joining together, even as they cracked with emotion and paused to let tears dry. But Colonel couldn't let us go without one more interjection of his wise humor. During the service inside the scriptures that were read B the 23rd Psalm and 1st Corinthians 13 B were the same passages that were used in Miss Trudy's funeral three and a half years earlier. But in recent years Colonel had confessed to having grown tired of Paul, whom he accused of too much fluff, so the pastor added a final passage from Luke.

After the service had ended, many folks lingered around on the hillside for a while, despite the growing cold, to greet and comfort old friends with handshakes and hugs. Brian Scruby read to a small group assembled around him the incredible words that Tommy Huntley had prepared and had had Brian transcribe over the phone. We gradually made our way back up the hill to the reception, where I had a chance to speak briefly with Trudy. She alluded to a remark that the pastor had made during the service, noting the thanks that, Trudy believes, Katie Hoffman Doman had expressed to the family for sharing Colonel with all of us for so many years. Trudy commented that she never felt as though she was having to share her father with anyone, for their home had always been one in which all were welcomed as family.

Cammie Tuskey has passed along to me a story from this past summer at Camp that she finds fitting to tell at this time. During Fourth Session Colonel gave an evening program on black bears. When he couldn't find his slides, he just sat on one of the kitchen stools in front of the fireplace and talked for about an hour. Of course, most of the campers had never met Colonel before, and they tend to have about a five-minute attention span. "But he kept those kids enthralled for over an hour. It was amazing to watch even the most hyperactive campers sit still and listen intently to Colonel talk about black bears. The last thing he said during that talk was, 'I could keep going for a long time, but this seems like a good place to stop.' That quote has stuck with me since that day. When I heard that he died in his sleep, after remembering that that was also how Miss Trudy passed away and that he was with her now, that quote was the first thing that popped into my head. From talking to his family, he could have lived on, but it seems like he just decided that it was time to move on."