I didn’t realize it when I was born, of course, but I was never going to see the world with normal perspective. Mostly because of my eyesight. See, I was born cockeyed and legally blind in my right eye. It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I learned everyone doesn’t see double. Well, that explained a lot.
Growing up I was miserable at baseball. I couldn’t hit or catch worth a darn. At football, I could hit and tackle fine, but I couldn’t catch a pass. And basketball, forget it. I could do okay if the balls didn’t move ‘til I made ‘em. As in pool. But once they started in motion, my world got real complicated.
So there I was, the oldest of six kids which looked, to me, like an even dozen.
The stage was set for a wild ride.
My parents, L. Wayne and Bonnie, married young. Dad was nineteen and a proud graduate of Canute High School (Canute Oklahoma that is). Mom was fifteen and dropped out of school to get married. Dad earned a living as a full time milk man and part time circuit preacher for the Church of Christ.
I came along two years after they married and barely escaped being named Elmer Doyle after a couple of Dad’s friends. Thanks Mom.
Anyway, Mom and Dad were regular hard core "don't spare the rod" believers. We grew up going to church a minimum of three times a week—Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday night. Our branch of the Church of Christ was very fundamentalist—no drinking, no dancing, no Sunday school, no fornicating and no instruments of music in the church house. Every adult male member of the church was expected to take part in the service by preaching, leading prayer, serving communion or leading the congregation in singing hymns.
By the time I was ten, Dad was turning a milk crate on end so I could see over the pulpit and preach to the brethren and sisters who were so in need of spiritual guidance. I was preaching at that tender age because I thought the spirit was on me. Turns out it was something else. I'm not sure what it was. Just the same, I spent alot of time preaching about beams, motes,widow's mites and the jawbones of asses.
On Saturday, I helped Dad on the milk route. At age twelve, I got a second job throwing newspapers twice a day on weekdays and the morning edition on Saturday and Sunday. When I was fourteen, Dad hired me out to another milk man in the summer. I got $3.00 a day with breakfast and lunch provided.
Back then, Oklahoma authorized a beginner’s driving permit which allowed me to drive at 15 ½, so long as there was a licensed driver in the vehicle with me. We ignored that requirement and I went to work for Dad’s luggage delivery service as soon as I got that permit.
You may ask how a kid who’s legally blind in his right eye and sees double all the time could get a driver’s permit. I really can’t answer that.
I graduated from Crooked Oak High School and married a girl I’d gone to church with my whole life. We had a daughter, but as things turned out, we did not live happily ever after. I kept working for dad until I was drafted in August 1969. I reported for duty at Ft. Polk Louisiana where I was trained as a combat cook. In due course, orders came directing me to report for duty in Vietnam on January 4, 1970. You may ask how a kid who’s legally blind in his right eye and sees double all the time managed to qualify for military service. I really can’t answer that. But before I showed up in Vietnam, somebody noticed the screw-up and I got a medical discharge in December 1969.
Since, according to government standards I fell into the category of the “disabled,” I qualified for rehabilitative services. They ran a battery of tests to help me figure out what type of training the state might offer in order to help me secure some gainful employment. Things didn’t look good. No aptitude for clerical or technical work. Poor prospects for professional employment. My kindly caseworker almost had tears in her eyes when told me it looked like my talents were best suited to manual labor.
After that, I slid like an avalanche into a life of disillusion punctuated by hard drinking, bar room brawling, loose women and recreational drugs. My wife divorced me and I don’t blame her. I barely noticed.
I was busy living the life of an outlaw vagabond hippy. For the next few years, I traveled all over the United States, lived on hand-outs and whatever money I could make as a street corner musician, janitor, truck driver, zookeeper, bar tender and petty criminal. For awhile, I followed the grape harvest in France picking grapes by hand. Sure enough, itinerant farm work looked like a job I could handle.
In 1974, a series of bizarre coincidences rolled on top of each other and I found myself attending classes at East Central Oklahoma State University in Ada. Then some more bizarre coincidences and I found myself attending classes at Westfield State College in Massachusetts. Back to Ada. Then, to the University of Wisconsin, Platteville. Then back to Ada where I graduated with honors in 1976.
That same year, I did the respectable thing and settled down. I married a woman who was hearing impaired and decided I better start thinking long term because there was a child on the way. My son Brent was born in May, 1977.
After another series of bizarre coincidences, I wound up at the Oklahoma University Law School in August, 1977. I finished in December, 1979.
For the next several years of my law practice, I represented big companies like GM, Honda, Toyota, American Airlines and TWA. I represented hospitals, doctors, nurses and pharmacists. I represented asbestos manufacturers. I appeared before tribunals all over the United States and tried cases in state and federal courts in numerous states. My son Russ was born in 1981 and Lila was born in 1987. The court granted me custody of all three children when I divorced their mother in 1991.
My practice changed in 1993 when an elderly couple came to see me after their house burned down. Their insurance company, after promising they had replacement coverage, wouldn’t even allow them the market value of their home. Turns out the company was doing this to thousands of Oklahoma homeowners. So, for the next ten years, I was exclusively involved in litigation against insurance companies that underpaid their customers.
I met Mary in 1997, asked her out in 1998, proposed in 1999 and we married on July 1, 2000. Since our first date, Mary has been the backbone of my personal and professional life. She enriched our family by adding her two sons, Alan and Graham to the circle.
Oh, about that elderly couple whose house burned. Happy ending. They got their house rebuilt better than ever and it didn’t cost them a dime.
I retired in 2005 after twenty-five years of practice. Being a lawyer is the longest job I ever had—so far. Since retirement, I’ve been busy traveling around the United States, Canada, the Middle East and Africa by car and motorcycle, reading, researching, writing and being a proud grandfather. Brent married Crystal, his sweetheart since junior high. He is now practicing medicine in Claremore, Oklahoma. My first grandson Clayton was born in 2007, and the twins, Sawyer and Bailee came along in 2009.
My stepson Alan, a fine man with special needs has a home four miles from his mother and me. My son Russ earned his degree in Sociology and now works with troubled youth and their families. He and his sweetheart, who is also named Crystal, are the proud parents of little Miss Emmree. My other stepson Graham lives in Birmingham, Alabama with his sweet wife, Beth Ann. Graham works for Student Life, a Christian ministry focusing on the needs of young people here and abroad. Their son Watson was born July 21, 2011. As for Lila, well, we don’t hear much from her.
Anyway, my column, “Hey Hink” appears each Saturday in the Edmond Sun. My first book The Butane Gospel was released June, 2010. I have a lot more to do before the ride’s over. You ought to come along—at least for part of it.
For now, I’m Hink and I’ll see ya.