By Roger Barbee 

Bob Graham

Mr. Graham’s obituary was printed yesterday which is not a surprise because, as a 97-year-old Lake Norman business leader, John Robert Graham, Sr. had planned everything. The obituary told of his long marriage with Louise; the names of their five children and their families; and of his business successes. It told of his church memberships and his civic involvements and his enjoyment in playing golf.  His service in the U.S. Navy during WW II was also mentioned.

Mr. Graham and I met about five years ago when he stopped me as my wife and I were leaving a local restaurant. Noticing my wheelchair, he asked how I had been injured, and during our first of many long conversations we discovered we lived on the same street. Just like that, a friendship formed.

Over the next years Mr. Graham would stop by our house whenever his caregiver Marilyn and he ran errands. When he became less mobile and moved into an assisted living apartment, they stopped when they checked on his home. Our conversations, always on our driveway, were lively as we argued politics and religion. He would say, “Let me ask you a question.” After my answer, he would offer his explanation of why I was mistaken. Only a strong friendship can weather such discussions, and ours grew stronger and stronger after each of his visits.

But we discussed other topics. One advantage or disadvantage of meeting someone later in life is that much shared experiences are missed by both parties, but we worked to cover that lost time. Once when I asked, “Tell me about Mrs. Graham,” he settled himself into the car seat, looked up to the tallest pine trees, and said, “I miss Louise,”  as his eyes became moist. He also shared on occasion that he regretted not being much of a reader over his lifetime, and more than once he bemoaned ever having smoked cigarettes, as he became more and more dependent on a portable oxygen tank. “That was a stupid mistake,” he often pronounced.

But, most of all, I cherish Mr. Graham for his service- during WW II and afterwards. Like so many of his generation, he explained that “I did what I had to do” when after high school graduation he joined the Navy. In one of our driveway conferences he asked me what I thought of Truman’s decision to use the atomic bomb. He then shared what he and all his buddies felt about that as they shipped across the Pacific—on their way to invade Japan. “We felt bad for the Japanese,” he confessed, “but were happy for ourselves. It was awful, but we wanted to live.”

An obituary is just printed words, and none, no matter how well crafted, can capture a life. Yet Mr. Graham’s well lived life was founded on his generation’s belief in doing what was asked.  His generation has been called “the greatest,” but those mere words cannot describe their courageous responsibility.