Barney B. Hamilton, or just Ham to his friends, was the bravest man I had ever known. He had earned two purple hearts during World War II, both times being wounded while rescuing comrades under fire. And when it came to Ironwork, he could walk an 8” beam 50 stories up without even a care. He lived life at full speed. Certainly, drank too much and drove his beloved 1966 Cougar way too fast and he did it all without fear. He had been my mentor and friend for almost 10 years, and I thought more of him than my own father. Now he was dying.
Trixie, his wife, had called me from their home in Red Wing, Minnesota. I could tell immediately from the quaver in her voice that something was wrong. We had talked many times. She always answered the phone whenever I had called to check up or check in. Ham hated telephones and she would fill me in on everything for a half hour or so then put the old boy on and he would mumble a hello and within five minutes a gruff goodbye. Every now and again she would call me and tell me Ham was thinking about coming out of retirement, we would laugh. I could hear him in the background swearing up a storm, pledging to come get me there was a big job that needed his expertise. It never happened no matter how much each of us wished it would. But this call was different. Trixie’s ever sunny voice was sad.
After my hello’s I waited for her to say what she needed to and shortly it came out, “Johnny,….” a long pause, “The docs say Ham has lung cancer that has already spread to his other organs, he is dying.” I didn’t have a hard time believing the idea of him having lung cancer. Since he could roll his own cigarettes he had been smoking. Even after I had quit years ago, he refused to even think about it. Cancer wasn’t hard to imagine. But life without my friend was. I spoke softly, breaking back tears, “Trix, I am going to be on the next flight. I will be there soon.” We talked for a few minutes more. She told me a few of the local guys had been there already and she urged me to hurry, his time was short.
I got a flight out of Salt Lake City that afternoon and landed in Minneapolis by 6:00 pm, rented a car and drove the 60 miles or so to their place in Red Wing. When Trixie answered the door, she hugged me and said, “He’s been waiting for you!” She grabbed my hand and led me through the large, old farmhouse’s living room. Both of Ham’s sons were there, along with a couple old timers from the trade who I knew. Saying hello to all, I followed Trixie up the creaking staircase.
Entering their bedroom, I approached the bed. I was shocked to see the large man I once knew shriveled and pale. He seemed to be sleeping but roused as I approached. “Johnny” he said with a raspy voice, holding out his still big hand. As I grasped it, he pulled me to a chair next to the bed. This seemed to wear on his strength, but he continued to hold my hand. Finally, he rasped, “So boyo, you’re here! It took me kicking the bucket to get you out of that hell hole state you live in.” Ham thought all states except Minnesota were hell holes but especially any state beyond the Rocky Mountains. I grinned and spoke in a gleeful voice, that I really didn’t feel, “I didn’t come here to see you kick any bucket. There is a big job in Colorado, and it has your name all over it! You need to get past this thing you got going and come with me.”
He tried to laugh, but it came out in ghastly gulps for air. He gripped my hand tight then relaxed. Shaking his head, he said, “No not this time, Sprout, I am staying home side. You are the ramrod now.” I felt tears welling as I put my other hand on top of his. With an effort he rolled toward me and said, “I heard that Mark Twain said this, “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger to hate. Hate to suffering.”” Ham loved Mark Twain and used to have one of his novels with him wherever we boomed. I aint afraid, John. I have no fear.” Now for the first time I heard him talk of his faith I knew he had but never spoke of. “I know you don’t believe in God and I have always felt sad about that. You see, I have seen death all around me and I have seen things you never have. I didn’t ask Trixie to call you to get you on a flight from the God forsaken place you live in to have you come boo-hoo at my bedside. I asked you to come to share with you what I should have years ago. A verse from the Bible. And now I am going to do it if you like it or not.”
I shook my head but still grasped his hand with both of mine. His eyes closed and I thought he had fallen off, but then I heard in a soft whisper, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” A pause then, “That is Isaiah Chapter 41 verse 10.” He said still in a struggled whisper. “I have carried that verse in my heart. It took me through a war, a failing farm, an updraft that almost pulled me off that 40 story we worked in New York and it is taking me through this right now. That is all I wanted to tell you, son. I have no fear and I want you to do the same.”
Years have passed since I sat in that gloomy bedroom next to the bravest man I ever knew. He did die about three days later but I did not take his faith or his favorite verse into my heart until around 2010. I cannot say I have lived without fear since the moment I believed that there is a God that strengthens me, but I can say today that I am not afraid.
I am not afraid living in this world filled with Coronavirus. Not afraid of that the world as we know it might never return. I am not afraid because I am now, like my friend Ham, a man of the Book, God’s Word. I know the end of that book and who wins in the end. Today I want to live like it and believe Jesus words, “…In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” From the book of John Chapter 16, verse 33. Yep, that is how I want to live, how about you? Thanks Ham, I still miss you buddy.
Blessings
John
3/23/20
