A Passing Generation
As I sat in Prestonwood Baptist Church for the DTS graduation this year, I was distracted by an older man shuffling down the aisle looking for a seat. He was alone, and looked completely lost. Trailing behind him was an usher helping him find a seat, for the ceremony had already begun. I noticed that this man had a familiar step. He had a familiar look. But when he turned around to face my section, I knew instantly who this man was. No need for a double take, I was looking at the face of my theology professor from Tennessee Temple University. His name is Dr. Winget. Well, I was shocked, because I was under the misinformation that this man, now 80, was deceased as of 2008. As I later found out, it was his wife that passed away in 2008. He was in Dallas celebrating his DTS class graduation, some 50+ years previous.
Well, the ceremony ended, FINALLY, then I shifted through the crowd to speak with Dr. Winget. He was still sitting, though everyone else was moving out of the aisles.
“Dr. Winget?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m David Winget.”
“Dr. Winget, I’m JD Lemming. I was a student of yours at TTU.”
At this point, his face lit up like a flourescent bulb.
He perked up. “Oh, really! Tell me your name again?”
“JD Lemming, sir.”
“JD Lemming, heh?” He remarked confusedly. “I can’t recall that name.”
Unfortunately, he did not recognize me at first, but he later said he did. I spent the next 20 minutes catching up with the man. It was interesting, to say the least. Well, it was interesting for mainly 2 reasons. 1) The man was overly and abundantly excited to see me. It was strange how excited he was. 2) He wouldn’t stop touching me during our conversation. He would grab my knee and hold it awkwardly for several minutes as we talked. At the end of our conversation, when we were standing, he held on and rubbed my arm as we spoke. It was at the end of our conversation, standing in the middle of Prestonwood’s auditorium/stadium, that I was suddenly struck with sympathy for this man. Why? Because it hit me that he was absolutely and utterly alone. Alone. That’s why he kept touching me. He was alone amongst thousands of people in this church building. Alone in one of the largest cities in America. Alone in life and at home. I figure after you spend 50+ years with a spouse, and they die, you must feel completely lost. How can you live when half of you is missing? This man was craving attention. He was craving to be touched, and to touch someone else. He just wanted human connection. Don’t we all?
I ended our reconnection by walking him to his rental car in the far distant parking lots of Prestonwood. He gave me a hug and a manilla envelope. In this envelope was a portion of an autobiography that he is currently writing, and a CD that contains audio of his life story and conversion. (Those contents might be a future Tumblr, but suffice it to say that I enjoyed it.)
Now, I disliked this man during school. I know that’s harsh, but I did. I was a stupid student. Yet, as I shut his car door and watched him drive off, my heart was warm and full of appreciation. Human life is a strange thing. We will only know our experiences. But I wanted to fully relay how I appreciated Dr. Winget, but I couldn’t. The moment was strange, but as I think about him now, hindsight being 20/20, I owe much to this man. I realized that spending time with him for 30 minutes was my greatest gift. Because for humans, connection is a very basic need.
