Only Love

Only love sails straight from the harbor
Only love will lead us to the other shore
Out of all the flags I've flown
One flies high and stands alone
Only love

We buried Bill Baker yesterday – a fisherman, a Citadel cadet, Marnie’s boyfriend for 70 years, a World War II Veteran, our Uncle Bill Baker.

In a time when men were “manly” – were expected to fight wars and protect, my Uncle Bill was growing up in a tribe of sorts – the Baker Clan:



Daddy Bill with his children:  Sissy, Bill, Maine, Clarke, Broughton and Nancy 

The Baker clan was comprised of 4 Baker Men:  Bill, Clarke, Maine and Broughton . . . and their baby sisters:  Sarah “Sissy” and Nancy.

These men loved heartily.  As Aunt Nancy mentioned yesterday, these men kissed their father hello and hugged their children.  They laughed loudly, drove quickly, and tickled.

My Grandfather, Broughton Baker, tickling my grandmother Margaret.

These men loved their mother so much, each welcomed an opportunity to name a child after her.  There are two “Jennies” by these Baker boys.  Here’s one of them:

Jennie Baker Smith

This tradition has continued, as I have a cousin named Jennie and a cousin named Jennie Margaret (both beauties by the way, the Bakers don’t do ugly):

Jennie Odom

 

The pretty blond is Jennie Margaret

I have sailed a boat or two
Out on the wild blue
Yonder to dreams that rarely come true

One of the lowest points in Uncle Bill’s life was the time he boarded a ship in San Francisco, headed for war.

Once aboard that ship, a young officer greeted him.  This officer was from the South – from Savannah – this officer had heard of the famous Baker boys from Estill.  A soothing presence, this voice from home – Uncle Bill’s fears were calmed.  He felt at peace.  But he never saw this officer again – not on the boat, not anywhere. 

Years later, Uncle Bill remained convinced this young officer was an angel, sent to ease his mind.  And after the war, he returned to his Marnie.

Yesterday an American flag draped Uncle Bill’s coffin, in honor of his service to our country.  The flag was carefully folded in front of Marnie, his bride of 70 years.  And Marnie’s glorious grandson, Baker Odom, dressed in full regalia, stood at attention and saluted in the aisle as his grandfather’s flag was folded. 

And Baker Odom placed that flag in his grandmother’s lap.

Baker Odom

I have never seen anything so magnificent. 

If God soothed Bill Baker on that boat off the coast of San Francisco, God would soothe him again. Days before his passing, Uncle Bill spoke of his baby brother, my grandfather Broughton. 

Broughton died decades ago, while Peggy was engaged.  Broughton was naughty.  Broughton once rounded up all the cats in the neighborhood and put them in someone’s car.  He asked my grandmother to marry him on their first date, and on every date thereafter until she agreed. 

I have never met him, but my son Houston Samuel is named for him.

Houston Samuel Jones in front of the marker for Samuel Broughton Baker

Broughton was only 42 when he passed. 

Just days ago, Bill spoke twice of Broughton “coming to get him.”

The preacher said they were likely all fishing up there in heaven. 

But this was a Baptist preacher, and if I hear right about my grandfather (a Presbyterian), they are probably having a cocktail and playing cards instead.

Peaceful waters, raging sea
It’s all the same to me
I can close my eyes and still be free

When Dad and I visited Uncle Bill a few weeks ago, he wanted to return to his water-home, in Bluffton.  Fishing was on his mind. 

Aunt Nancy mentioned yesterday that it felt like we had lost our anchor.  It is how we felt.  A patriarch has left us.

But everywhere I looked, I saw new anchors swiftly sinking.  There were promises made by the younger Bakers – and the youngest Bakers bonded over a game of Simon Says:

And I see evidence everywhere that the silliness that is Baker, carries on.

Creighton at his USC graduation, wearing his Cocky mascot shoes.

When the waves come crashing down
And the thunder rolls around
I can feel my feet on solid ground

Uncle Bill’s son Bill, we call him Little Bill.

Little Bill told me something about those last days with his father.   He told me of a day when he was holding his father’s hand – the decision was made to never leave him alone, and it was Little Bill’s turn to stay with him.  As Little Bill held Uncle Bill’s hand, little Bill heard sounds from the living room – the sound of Marnie playing the piano, and of World War II era songs.  Chicken was cooking in the kitchen, and memory-pictures were all around.   The combination of touch, sight, sound and smell was overwhelming for him.  This moment was forever captured in his mind and heart.

I do not know what this moment sounded like for Little Bill.  If I had to guess, I would think it sounded like peace.  Maybe like the sound of wind hitting a sail, or water lapping the side of a boat on the Maye River. 

I don’t know how this moment felt for Little Bill either.  But I suspect he drifted a bit.  When Little Bill is ready, and when Jennie and Mary are ready, we’ll all set sail again. 

And we can all take turns being the anchor.

 

Only love sails straight from the harbor
Only love will lead us to the other shore
Out of all the flags I've flown
One flies high and stands alone
Only love