MY CHILDHOOD HERO, DAVID PEDIGO OF SHERMAN, TEXAS

     The 1968 class of Sherman High School, Sherman, Texas, held our 50th graduation anniversary get together last month.  It was a well organized celebration and we enjoyed a good turnout.

     Since Mizz Nancy and I live in California, I do not get to see my Texas friends as often as I would like.    One role model from my youth was fellow Sherman Bearcat, David Pedigo.  I got to briefly say hello to David and did the quick, “SO-WHAT-ARE-YOU-UP-TO-NOW?” rapid-fire conversation, because other people are waiting to speak to him or me and it just moves too fast.

     I have always wanted to take a longer moment and tell David what an example of Christian kindness he has always been to me.  I met David when I was transferred in the 6th grade to Wakefield Elementary from

Bryant Elementary in 1961.   I recall he seemed to wear black cowboy boots and white long sleeve shirts, every day.  I arrived, knowing very few people in my new school and he went out of his way to make me feel welcome.  He included me in pickup ball games and would introduce me to fellow classmates.

     I vividly remember our 6th grade class was playing another 6th grade class in football on the Wakefield playground.  It was tackle of course, and in the process of taking an opponent down, we all fell into a pile with scrapes, torn clothes and newly learned profanity.

     It seemed the entire opposing team was jumping on me and attempting to pummel me to death.  Out of nowhere David Pedigo appeared and was kicking the opposition with those wonderfully sharp cowboy boots.  He kicked, pulled boys off me, kicked some more and punched until finally Ed McElroy and Ronnie Gafford of my class arrived to lend a hand.  Several of us were dragged to Mr. Scott, our Principal’s office, yelled at and maybe whacked with his board.  I do not remember, I just remember David arriving as the cavalry and was impressed with his ability to pull me from certain injury.

     I believe David and I attended different junior highs, but did catch up with each other in high school.  He was in the band, always gracious and we did participate in some school plays together.    However, while he was not a constant presence in my life, his goodness seemed to radiate whenever I saw him.

     Now at this stage of my tale, let me explain a bit about my home life.   When I entered the 10th grade at Sherman High in the fall of 1965, I was going through some rather trying times with my dad.  He had decided my mother was not making enough of an effort with our breakfast and assigned himself the task of preparing the meal.  My father could NOT cook anything palatable.  He would start off with burning a pound of bacon, frying a dozen under-cooked, greasy fried eggs in the burned bacon grease and bake horrid tasting “biscuits” with twice the amount of needed baking powder.  Those biscuits had to be against the law and are still sitting as statues outside the breakfast nook window at 1019 S. Travis Street in Sherman… a silent monument to my father’s stubborn notion of what he could force down his three son’s necks.

     I would ask for lunch money, it would be denied because I refused to eat breakfast and the cycle began.  “Once he get’s hungry enough, he will eat breakfast and we can stop this foolishness.”  I tried, but I couldn’t gag it down.  Cereal or other uncomplicated options were not going to be made available, so it was skipping breakfast, lunch and mother wasn’t exactly famous for having a regularly prepared supper. 

     During the noon hour at school, I would usually go to Mr. Young’s classroom for conversation and study in his speech/drama stage setting.  Several friends were there and many brought their lunch.    Several times, David Pedigo went across the street to Little’s Pharmacy and purchased two hamburgers.    He then returned to the band area, near the speech/drama class room, to meet friends.  On numerous occasions, without a word, we would make eye contact and he silently tossed me a burger.  Initially,  I was startled because I had said nothing.  But, man I was starving!  I was so grateful it would bring tears to my eyes.  But it is awkward for a 14 year-old to express gratitude.  How he knew, I will never know.   

     A few years ago I ran into David in Sherman, told him the story and how much it meant to me.  He said he didn’t remember it, but as he will do, he turned it back to the Lord.  David said he was simply used to do God’s will and really doesn’t deserve any credit.    Uh…OK…but I am still grateful to God and David.   (I soon got a job after school and was able to buy my own lunch and not have to sponge off the Pedigo family.  To this day I still cannot eat fried eggs, but have become a gourmet biscuit maker!)

     Now, I have learned God is actively using David Pedigo once again.

     Over the past 11 years, David has played Taps at least 250 times at veteran military funerals around Texomaland.  David sees this ability as a gift extended to him by the Lord to use to serve his fellow man.  David views the cemeteries as holy ground, consecrated by those who fought and died so we may live in a free land.  Those who have been present have attested, “If you ever hear a live “Taps” played, that is memorable itself.  But, David puts his soul and heart into it.”

     David said, “It was always my hope for the Lord to use me as a vessel to bring hope or closure - or whatever He has in mind, in my playing of Taps.”  Our friend and ‘68 classmate Don Thompson recently died from long term effects of his service in Viet Nam.  David Pedigo sent Don on his way with his stirring rendition of “Taps”, which Don’s widow Janice gratefully called, “Wonderful”.

    So, thank you Lord for another fine friend from the Sherman Class of 1968, who is an example to us all and a life well lived.  They don’t get much better than David Pedigo and I am grateful he was placed on the earth.  Particularly during my life and in close proximity to Little’s Pharmacy of Sherman, Texas.