If it’s possible to squeeze every ounce of living out of 91
years, that’s exactly what Dr. Lawrence Bennett Jr. did. Even from his hospice
bed, Doc entertained, cajoled, advised, comforted and prayed for others. If I
had to describe my boyhood dentist, who became a lifelong friend, I’d suggest: “He cared.”
As an antsy
kid—sitting in his Cherry Street office—I heard a grinding noise coming from
the next room. I could see what looked like a big hypodermic needle under a
white cloth. I tried to imagine what was going to happen to me.
Pretty soon I
knew.
A drill was going
to be whirring in my mouth. But first, that big needle was going to be poked into
my gum. In a calming way, the young dentist peppered me with questions. I got
my first lesson in how to talk when someone has his hands in your mouth.
Doc did more than
fill a cavity. For more than 60 years, he filled my life, as an irreplaceable
friend. Just last week—when I called him—he said, “I’ve been thinking outside the
box about Wayne County. I have some ideas for you.”
Doc was laboring
to breathe, so I asked Air Elliott—who was in the room with him—to write down
his suggestions. Doc said that he knew his time was short, but he wanted me to
know that my family was on his prayer list of 150 people. In a whisper, he
said, “I pray for you and your family … especially your children, Alan, Emily
and Eric.” He closed with “I love you.”
That was a classic
Doc.
Oh, how he cared!
Our children
learned to swim in the Bennetts’ pool. In addition to Larry and Jann Bennett’s
four daughters—Julie, Widget, Jody and Maggie—their Palm Street backyard was always
teeming with children and adults. While
some were on the tennis court, others were splashing in the pool. Future
Olympic gold-medal swimmer David Larson was among them.
When Doc retired,
he didn’t slow down. He told me that men in his family had a history of dying
young with heart disease. He was determined to defy the odds. He played
competitive tennis and pedaled his bike all over Georgia.
Doc said he cared
about my health, too. He encouraged me to jog with him and his tennis partner
Bob Smith. One morning, 10-year-old Alan joined us for a predawn run around
Jaycee Stadium’s track. When we got home, Alan asked, “Does Mr. Smith not like
Dr. Bennett?”
“Why would you ask
that?”
“Because he talks
to Dr. Bennett like he’s mad at him.”
Laughing, I said, “Doc
calls Mr. Smith ‘Bobnoxious.’ That’s
just the way they kid each other. Watch, and you’ll see that they really love
each other.”
After Doc could no
longer jog, he wore out a truckload of tennis shoes walking around Jesup. When
he couldn’t take those strolls, he exercised his mind—even more. Years ago, he
told me that he learned to speak Spanish watching Spanish soap operas. And in
his final days, he quoted Latin from his hospital bed.
That’s classic
Doc, too.
Lawrence Bennett
Jr. was a promoter. Give him a worthy cause, and he was a one-man chamber of
commerce. Doc was a progressive thinker. He believed that small people thinking
small kept a small town small. I can’t wait to see the list he dictated to Air.
For 91 years, Doc
cared about his family, his friends, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, his community
and the world.
Oh,
how he cared!
