A Meditation for the Memorial
Service for
Danny E. Allen, J.D.
Psalm 121; I Thessalonians 4:9-12
P. Randall Wright, D.Min.
September 11, 2012
We gather today to remember the life of Danny Allen and to
celebrate our shared assurance of his eternal life. It is good that we are all here in the
presence of God and in each other’s company.
Gail, Whitney, and Amy and their families and loved ones will remember
this great host of supportive and loving friends, and surely these memories
will sustain them in the difficult days of grief until hope is reborn.
I’ve known Danny since we were both students at North
Charleston Elementary School and members of Cooper River Baptist Church. He was a year older than I, so we never were
really best friends or buddies, but we were friends for a long, long time. Our lives sort of paralleled each other’s,
and when we ran into each other here and there over the years, it seemed that
we picked up where we had left off. We
both had good plans about being more intentional in our friendship, but…you
know how that goes.
I have always admired and respected Danny Allen. Recently, a good friend sent me a quotation
that fits Danny. It’s a baseball
quotation by a football coach—Barry Switzer.
Danny lettered in baseball at North Charleston High School. Here’s the quotation: “Some people are born on third base and go
through life thinking they hit a triple.”
Unfortunately, that saying has been politicized over the years. But it reminds me of Danny.
Danny was not born on third base. He was not a child of
privilege. We all knew about Danny’s daddy leaving his mother. We heard our
parents talk about how Mrs. Allen worked so hard at the Piggly Wiggly to make
sure Danny and his older brother Gene and younger brother Randy were raised
well. I know Danny and his brothers were
sometimes embarrassed when church folks would bring food or money to help Mrs.
Allen. I know all that, and most of you
know the same thing. Danny was not born
on third base…but he hit many triples and a few grand slam home runs.
I remember walking by Danny’s house on the way to North
Charleston Elementary. I can see their
house in my mind. And I used to wonder
what it was like to be growing up without a daddy. I used to wonder that, but we never felt sorry for Danny and his brothers. They never gave
reasons for that. And we certainly never
made fun of them. Gene would have beat
us up. We just kept being friends and
never really made comparisons. That’s
just how it was in North Charleston in the late 1950s and early 1960s. We were just kids trying to mind our parents
and teachers and coaches and Sunday School teachers…just kids growing up.
Danny was not born on third base. He was not a child of privilege. But he worked hard and studied hard and made
something of himself….but not all by himself.
He knew that people like Doc Hursey and Dixie Lucas and Floyd Arant and
Dan Roberts and my daddy and a host of other men just stepped in to be a father
figure and love him and encourage him. He knew about his mother’s Sunday School
class and how they all helped her. In some cases it really does take a village.
So, Danny grew up and got to third base and scored many runs for his team.
Somewhere along the way, Danny learned to live a life described
in these words by the Apostle Paul in a letter to the Thessalonians. “Now
concerning love of the brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anyone
write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another.”
Danny loved you all. I don’t need to
tell you that. I have heard many stories
about how Danny cared for many people—in tangible and unselfish ways. I think he remembered all the good folks in
North Charleston who helped out when his father left.
The Apostle Paul continued, “But we urge you…to aspire to
live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work…” So that’s what Danny did through Clemson and
law school and the Air Force and then here in Spartanburg since the early
1970s. He married a wonderful woman, he
and Gail had two beautiful and successful daughters who have fine families, and
he worked hard….not only in his practice but in the community. He was a giver. He loved people. He loved to talk, and he knew how to enjoy
life.
A mutual friend, a girl in my high-school class, said this
about Danny: “…all my memories are just of a sweet and good-looking boy
who was my friend. He was always my shoulder to cry on with whatever boy was
causing me heartache at the moment. There was always a devilish look in his eye,
and I can still see it in the picture of that white-haired distinguished man he
had become.”
Let me tell you about this “devilish look in his eye.” Danny and I were talking just a couple months
ago. He said, “Randy, you know I don’t
like very many preachers, but I like you.”
And I said, “Well, I don’t like very many preachers either, and I don’t
like many lawyers, but I like you.” He
said, “I like preachers who talk to me and not at me. And that’s why I like
you.” It was one of the highest and most
memorable affirmations I have ever received.
I liked Danny because he was a man of no pretense or
arrogance or condescension. I liked Danny because in every conversation we had
over the years, he always talked about Gail and his girls….and later his grandchildren. You learn a lot about a person by what he
talks about.
Every now and then he’d talk about himself and his brothers
and growing up in North Charleston and going to Clemson and law school. We
reminisced about old friends and old times. He’d talk about his work and
politics, occasionally, and how he had fun with his friends. And in every
conversation, I had the sense that Danny was very, very grateful for all that
he had and enjoyed. He didn’t need to
say to whom he was grateful. I knew he was
grateful to God.
I think the simple, yet profound, question the psalmist asks
in Psalm 121 is a question Danny often asked…”from where will my help come?”
His life and his loves reveal his answer.
“My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” The preachers Danny didn’t like are full of
God talk, as if trying to convince others of their piety and holiness. I will remember Danny as one who didn’t need
to talk about God as much as to live for God by the way he treated others. That’s what I like about my long-time friend,
Danny Allen. His life and his actions
revealed the source of his help. His
help was from the God who loves him and has welcomed him into an eternal
presence.
Former United Nations Secretary-General and Nobel Peace Prize
recipient Dag Hammarskjöld wrote a benediction for his life. He said, “For all that has been, thanks; to
all that shall be, yes!” We thank God for Danny Allen and remember his deep
gratitude to God for all that has been in his life. We affirm the eternal life that shall
continue to be for Danny, because he said “yes” to God by his life, his service
to others, and his assurance of an everlasting peace. “For all that has been, thanks; for all that
shall be, yes!”
