John Hancock’s swirling signature made him more famous than just being one of the signers of the United States Constitution. Centuries later, you’ll still hear people say, “I need your ‘John Hancock’ right here.” What they want is for you to sign your name on the proverbial dotted line.
But not all signatures are done with pen and ink.
Everyone’s personality has “signatures,” setting them apart and making them memorable. Take my late friend, Buddy, for example. From the moment that I met him, I recognized that one of his distinctive signatures was his 1,000-watt smile. His family joked that his smile was often a devilish grin.
Buddy did like a dash of devilish hijinks. That smile—or grin, if you will—served him well over his 86 years. But behind his quick-to-tease, playful personality was a man with a big heart and a lovable down-home charisma.
Edwin Rice Hart Jr.—Buddy to all who knew him—came into my life late, proving some of the best things arrive at the last moment. Buddy and I bonded instantly. And after his wife, Millie, died, Buddy became my regular sidekick.
If I called about a road trip, Buddy was ready. It didn’t matter whether it was a Sunday-afternoon ride-around or a 200-mile mission. Buddy always said, “Yeah, come on by. I’ll be waiting.” Once, he said, “I want to see the Altamaha River swamp.” Off we went.
I liked having Buddy in my truck. Because I was a relative newcomer to Oglethorpe and Madison counties, he was my talking encyclopedia and human version of Google Maps. In our rambles, he knew every road and the shortcuts, too.
Buddy learned them early. As soon as he could reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel, he was the feed and fertilizer delivery “man” for his daddy’s Colbert Mercantile Company. The two-story brick building still stands across from the old railroad depot.
“Buddy, who lives there?” I’d ask.
Scratching his head, he’d answer, “Well, I’ll tell you who used to live there.” He was always amazed and often confounded by the growth and changes in Northeast Georgia.
But that didn’t change my friend.
No, sir.
Buddy was rock-solid in his faith and the love of his community, his family and his friends.
Our children cherished his friendship, too. Buddy, 86, represented a generation that was nonexistent for them. He was an “adopted” great-uncle. He regaled our sons, Alan and Eric, with his hunting and fishing stories. I treasured listening, laughing and watching Buddy’s eyes sparkle when he talked.
Buddy loved dove shoots, frying fish, boiling peanuts and coaching us on how to cook his style of chicken mull. We never got to make a batch of mull, but we are going to do that soon. And with every stir of the pot, we’ll feel Buddy’s spirit right there with us.
This Bulldog football season is going to be different. When we turned on the TV, Buddy was a good-luck charm. He had his favorite chair in our den. UGA’s record was nigh on perfect when he was under our roof.
Another thing Buddy enjoyed was going to Crawford’s G Brand Barbecue on Thursday nights. As much as he savored the stew—hash to him—Buddy loved the bluegrass music. Sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. He’d get up, dance a few steps, and then plop back down, sporting that devilish grin.
Yeah, Buddy.
We are going to miss your signature 1,000-watt smile, sometimes a devilish grin. Even if it was almost at the last minute, our family is so grateful that you came along and lit up our lives. You brought happiness, making us smile.
Everyone should be so lucky as to have a “buddy” as enjoyable as Edwin Rice Hart Jr.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
