“You can love someone so much...
But you can never love people as much
as you can miss them.” ~John Green
Newton
Ulysses Crawford, Jr. was born on March 1, 1948 in Port Hueneme, California. An
only child and navy brat, Newton was an international traveler, growing up in exotic
locations around the world such as Malta, Japan, Florida, Virginia, and Rhode
Island. He was a creative, talented, and intelligent man who could play anything
on the piano after hearing it just once.
In
the early 70s, he met and married Barbara Ann Cunningham. Always wanting a big
family, they soon had four kids, and they moved from place to place in search
of work and a place to belong. For a time, they settled in Kansas City where
they attended Baptist Temple.
With
a smile, he recently announced, “I know I have arrived because I have three
things: a country club membership, a Cadillac, and a lava lamp.” He was also
proud of owning a bulldog that he named Winston after Churchhill, the leader of
Great Britain during World War II.
Art,
music, literature. Literature, music, art. Words, words, words. Every day, all
day, he soaked up words as he read at least three books a week—something religious,
historical, and light (usually a mystery or detective story). Near his spot at
the end of the hand carved, wooden table, Newton always kept an unabridged copy
of Webster’s dictionary, and he was a genius with words, holding the title of
having the largest working vocabulary. He also had an almost photographic
memory.
Newton
lived a life of curiosity and inquiry, always studying, learning, exploring,
and researching. His example taught his children to live with open minds and inquisitive
spirits.
Near
the end of his life, he showed his family the blessing of miracles through a
changed heart that revealed a sensitive and sweet spirit, the power of
forgiveness, the importance of healing relationships, and the significance of
an intimate relationship with God.
As
Peter Gabriel sings in “Biko,” “You can blow out a candle, but you can't blow out a fire.
Once the flame begins to catch, the wind will blow it higher.” Newton Ulysses
Crawford, Jr. has inspired two generations who will always love him and
remember him and who will hand down the lessons and love to future generations.
A
beloved father and grandfather, an honored professor, a blessed husband, he
leaves a legacy of family, of love of literature, art, music, inquiry, and of justice
and kindness towards fellow humans.
I think all of us tend to look back on our lives on
our birthdays, and solitary reflection is good for the soul…summoning tendrils
of sadness and regret…but bringing also joy and the quiet contentment that
comes with remembrance of things past. On this day I feel doubly blessed to
have lived and loved, and I wanted to share an epiphany that intruded
forcibly…bringing the greatest birthday gift imaginable...an ineffable sense of
wondrous awe. Hovering always at the periphery of conscious thought is the
blessed awareness of the people I love, my fellow traveler through this vale of
tears. But this morning, in pensive solitude…I felt you all as a powerful
presence…as a celestial choir singing the Happy Birthday song…I truly felt you
all as if physically present…our hearts thrumming a delicate refrain of
indescribable loveliness. And I thought that there is great beauty in this
imperfect world…the indescribably sublime wonders of nature…the unutterable
beauty of song…Willie Nelson singing “Always on my Mind”…the baroque
counterpoint of Bach…The Winged Victory of Samothrace standing in Majestic
grace after 23 centuries…fragments of thought from other fellow travelers we
have never met, snatches of incredible poetic utterance…”And the women come and
go, Talking of Michelangelo”… fictional characters we feel we know, like
Yossarion and stately, plump Buck Mulligan. But shining above all of this with
effulgent brightness is the blessed assurance that Love is the one thing that
makes life worthwhile. I think there is a certain amount of wisdom that comes
naturally as we age and mature, and I think walking for a year in the shadow of
darkness has helped me see a great light…like Saul on the road to Damascus…I
see how we are transported by love to any earthly paradise beyond
description…that love for intimates, affection for friends, and good will
towards everybody…redeems our tenuous lives and makes our transient pilgrimage
significant. For above all else, I am assured that our love is a pearl of great
price, a solitary Rose blooming in a wasteland. I love you, Honey.
Letters written by Dad:
January 2001
Dear Children,
I simply must describe the view outside my window.
Last night the ice storm brought peril and discomfort, but today’s visual
delight actually overcompensates for any storm-related discomfiture…and fills
me with a sense of ineffable wonder. Outside…like a barely-recalled print by
Currier and Ives…a remarkably transcendent vision. The gray and overcast sky
provides a stark contrast to the glistening and translucent wintry landscape. No
cows; they are off seeking more basic pleasure in the river bottom…just birds
foraging, near the feeder…jays, cardinals, and a pileated woodpecker…skipping
about and eating their fill, full of natural gaiety…perhaps not knowing that
God provides for the fowls of the air. But what transforms the vignette from an
idyllic pastoral scene to an aesthetic marvel is the ice…the crystalline
perfection of a bejeweled lattice hanging in front of my window…refracting the
faint crepuscular light, and refining it into a landscape that would have
defied Michelangelo. Tree branches, heavy laden with a thick coating of ice,
bent unnaturally into different shapes, as if they were praying…the Chinese Elm
outside my window lowering her branches for me…so I might see the vision of
resplendent loveliness, the ground covered with a white carpet that on close
inspection proves to be granular sleet…but from my perspective looks like an
even field of snow rising in the distance and terminated by a line of trees,
which provide a barren backdrop…but in the foreground, the trees around the
house look like nature’s necklace, like diamond-coated skeletons frozen in
mid-frame while they waltz. Just now, as twilight approaches, a single ray of
sunlight penetrates the clouds and illuminates the scene, permeating it with a
roseate glow…enlightening the primal wonder of nature, and sending a tendril of
joy to my soul. As that last shaft of light descends from heaven, the ice
explodes in dizzying resplendence, a cascade of colors beyond the spectrum.
Words usually serve me well, but they are inadequate to describe this
unutterably lovely tableau…absolutely beyond description and incomprehensibly
beautiful…Truly Awesome…But I am reminded that there is one thing that rivals
the staggering beauty of nature…only one thing…And that is the solitary human
heart…pulsing out its rhythmic tattoo…beating steadily…for the ones it loves.
Dad
March 1, 2001
Dear Children
Dad