During my high school days, Calvin and Johnnie Hayes came into my life. They were a generation older, but we connected quickly. Over the 60-plus years of friendship, I visited their Harper Street home many times. About three years ago, Calvin called and said, “We need to talk.”
Days later, I was sitting at their dining room table with Calvin. Johnnie sat nearby. Calvin’s purpose was twofold. He said, “I’d like to tell you my life’s story. And I want you to give my eulogy.”
“For you, my friend,” I said, “I’d be honored.”
That’s when Johnnie chirped, in her cheerful voice, “I want you to do mine, too.”
In November of 2024, I stood in the pulpit of the First United Methodist Church, honoring Johnnie’s wish. Last Friday, I was back in that sanctuary. Calvin, 96, had gone to Heaven to reunite with his bride of 70 years and their daughter, Kathy, who had died as a 3-year-old.
I am sharing with you an abbreviated portion of my eulogy for my friend, William Calvin Hayes.
That night on Harper Street, Calvin told me that his two greatest decisions were:
1. To accept life’s challenges by taking “the road less traveled.”
2. To persuade Johnnie Eleanor Hodge to marry him on Nov. 22, 1953.
Calvin never complained about growing up “hard” in Odum during the Great Depression. Born as the third of five children, he dropped out of school after the sixth grade. His dad had died, and he had to shoulder the responsibilities of a man. In 1943, at age 14, he moved to Brunswick to work in the shipyard of J.A. Jones.
After World War II, Calvin returned to Jesup to work for E.T. Youngblood at the Alfred Dorman Company, a wholesale grocery distributor. Calvin had kept his payroll records. The most he ever made was 42 cents an hour. He credited E.T. Youngblood as one of his finest mentors. He had high praise for other mentors, including C.C. Harris, Buck Haskell, Earl Murphy, Dennis Synder and the Rev. Dr. Aubrey Alsobrook.
Calvin was a veteran of the U.S. Army and the Georgia National Guard. He showed me his honorable discharge dated Jan. 9, 1955. Calvin joined Rayoner in its early days. And all the while, he kept pushing down “that road.” He obtained his GED certificate, graduated from Brunswick Junior College and earned a bachelor’s degree in business by attending night school at Armstrong State College in Savannah.
In 1963, Calvin took a career detour to become Wayne County’s first administrator. After 42 months, he took the road back to Rayonier to become its senior purchasing agent. When he retired in 1993, Dennis Snyder, vice president of manufacturing, said, “When we needed to know something, we asked Calvin. He was the crown jewel of the company.”
This summer, we’ll celebrate America’s 250th birthday. And I think about one of our Founding Fathers, John Hancock, and his iconic swirling signature.
During our decades of friendship, I never saw Calvin Hayes sign his name. But I can attest to distinctive signatures that defined his 96 years. Here are just four:
Dependable
You could depend on Calvin. He embraced doing his part and more. His longtime neighbor, Herschel Daniel, said, “Calvin was known as the go-to guy.” Dennis Snyder said as much.
Determined
No matter how challenging the road was, Calvin kept grinding toward his goals. He had a soft voice but strong convictions. His principled determination was just like an Altamaha River snapping turtle. He wasn’t going to turn loose until it thundered.
Devoted
Calvin was devoted to his family and friends. One example was his legendary devotion to his mother-in-law, Mattie Hodge, during her later years. If you were his friend, you could count on his loyalty. I always knew Calvin was devoted to my best interest.
Loving
When Johnnie died, she knew that Calvin—her No. 1 fan—loved her beyond measure. He was so proud of the beautiful woman whom he persuaded to marry him in 1953. And he loved daughter Debbie and granddaughters Lauren and Rachel beyond measure, too.
Calvin had more distinctive signatures, but I think you know how grateful I am that he and Johnnie were a part of my life. We can, indeed, celebrate that they are together, again.
People die twice.
First the heart stops.
The second time is when the stories stop.
As friends, our role is to never let that happen.
We must share our Calvin and Johnnie stories—over and over—for as long as we live.
Thank you, Debbie, for this honor.
Calvin and Johnnie.
I loved them, too.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com