Good morning.
We knew this day was coming. Her health was failing. She was ready to go to her heavenly home. But nonetheless, our community’s heart aches for the loss of one of its beloved teachers and most caring citizens, Johnnie Eleanor Hodge Hayes.
She was a remarkable woman. A high school graduate at 16. College graduate at 19. A highly celebrated educator. Always impeccably dressed. She probably read more cookbooks than anyone in Wayne County, and she made every meal memorable.
But her most remarkable traits she saved for being Calvin Hayes’ wife. Talk about remarkable. In two days, Nov. 22, Calvin and Johnnie would have celebrated their 71st anniversary. Let me say that again: They were inseparable for 71 years. And they were each other’s biggest cheerleaders.
Debbie, you know that you were blessed with a remarkable mother. Lauren and Rachel, what a remarkable grandmother she was for you.
And how many thousands of times did the remarkable Johnnie Hayes sit in this sanctuary, playing the piano and organ?
Calvin, Debbie, Lauren and Rachel, I am honored that you have allowed me to share my love of a remarkable friend.
Calvin, I have always called you Calvin.
But your wife was always Mrs. Hayes to me.
To know why, you need to step into this imaginary time machine—also known as Jesup High School’s yearbook, The Jacket—and twist the knob, all the way back to 1964.
I am a junior at Jesup High School.
A blue-eyed brunette cheerleader—who I thought was the prettiest girl in the school—and I started dating. As is the custom in small towns, Mardell Hodge soon introduced me to her family, including her aunt and uncle, Johnnie and Calvin Hayes.
The rest is history. The teenage courtship turned into a lifelong friendship. My love and respect for the Hodge and Hayes families have stretched over 60 years, so far. This is the third eulogy that I have given for a member of the Hodge family.
Back in 1964 Calvin said, “You can leave off the ‘mister.’” But I couldn’t omit the “Mrs.” for his wife, because she was a teacher at Jesup High. And for six decades, I have cherished every visit to the Hayes home on Harper Street.
When I was there a few months ago, Mrs. Hayes—in her sweet Southern voice—asked me to stand here on this day. Indeed, it’s an honor.
People die twice.
The heart stops first, and then the memories stop.
If every one of us in this sanctuary took turns, we could share more than enough memories of Johnnie Hayes to keep her spirit “alive” for generations to come.
And Lauren and Rachel, that’s exactly what we will do for your grandmother, starting today.
Jesup High School had a host of teaching legends. But two of the most beloved were home-economics teachers Kathleen Hires and Johnnie Hayes. Their classrooms connected. If you had one for a teacher, you were lucky to have them both.
When I told Pete Hires of Mrs. Hayes’ passing, he said, “My mother and Mrs. Hayes were the female version of Batman and Robin. They were superheroes.” Indeed, they were.
Mrs. Hires was a chaperone on our senior-class trip to Washington and New York. We rode the train to Washington and took buses to the Big Apple.
We hadn’t gotten to Ludowici when Mrs. Hires stood up and barked in her you-better-hear-what-I’m saying voice, “If you boys don’t put those half-pints back in your suitcases, I will have the engineer back this train all the way to Jesup!”
She wasn’t bluffing. You could hear the latches on suitcases clicking.
Mrs. Hires and Mrs. Hayes loved us, and we loved them.
But if Mrs. Hayes had been on that train, this is how she would have handled the situation. She would have put her arms around A.T. and Buddy and said, in her charming way, “Now, boys, you don’t want to spoil this trip for everyone else. So, you need to behave like gentlemen.”
And they would have.
Mrs. Hayes had a special way about her.
Here’s what classmate Marie Dent told me this week: “Mrs. Hayes lived her life with confidence, grace, ease, and strived to instill these qualities in her students. She could be counted upon to do things the ‘right way,’ and she constantly passed on the wisdom of those life lessons to her students.”
Love
overflowed the Hayes home.
On Dec. 1, 1965, I witnessed how love and devout faith helped them navigate the darkness of losing their angelic 3-year-old daughter, Kathy. Debbie, I remember the joyful day that you were born. And then came Lauren and Rachel. Ladies, your grandmother adored you.
As we bid farewell to this remarkable woman and friend, I asked Lynn Rice about her fellow church member Johnnie Hayes. Here’s what she said, “I realized in my 30s that the matriarchs and patriarchs of my church family were valuable resources for navigating through the challenges of life. Johnnie stands out as one of my favorites. From her wellspring of caring, she always welcomed me warmly, gave wise counsel and sent me off feeling much brighter than when I arrived.”
That describes the legacy that Johnnie Hodge Hayes earned over her 91 years of brightening this church, this community and our world.
My dear friend—who was also your dear friend—would blush over the praise that we’ve given her, but she was as beautiful as the music that she played.
One of her favorite songs was “When We All Get to Heaven.”
And that’s where Johnnie Hayes will be waiting for us.
Amen?
And all God’s children said, “Amen!”
Dink NeSmith
Johnnie Hodge Hayes Eulogy
First United Methodist Church
Jesup, Georgia
November 20, 2024
