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Roger Dawson Edens, 91, longtime
Waco businessman and Baylor
supporter, passed away Monday, Jan.
30, 2006, at a local care
facility.Graveside services will be
conducted at 10 a.m. on Wednesday,
Feb. 1, at the Oakwood Cemetery,
followed by a Memorial Service at 11
a.m. at the Lake Shore Baptist
Church, 5801 Bishop. The Rev.
Dorisanne Cooper and the Rev.
Sharlande Sledge will officiate.
Born in Bellmead, Mr. Edens lived in
Waco all of his life except for
several years with the Baytown
Ordnance Works during World War II
following his 1940 graduation from
Baylor University. On July 3, 1941,
he married the former Louise (Penny)
Pennington. Returning to Waco to
work at Owens-Illinois Glass Plant,
he soon purchased the White Pharmacy
and then joined his father-in-law,
J.C. Pennington, as owners of Baylor
Drug. He retired after selling his
business in 1981. Mr. Edens and
Baylor Drug were well-known to
students before 1981 when it was
torn down, serving as a gathering
place before the Union Building was
erected in 1996.
Mr. Edens was an ardent supporter of
Baylor. While in school he served as
president of the Esquire Club and
worked in advertising for the Baylor
Press. Since graduation he served as
president of the Baylor Alumni
Association in 1983-84 and was still
on the executive board. He was
treasurer of that association for
over 25 years and was named
Treasurer Emeritus. For 33 years he
organized and presented the Cabaret
Show for Baylor Homecoming. He was
the recipient of the W.R. White
Meritorious Award in 1980, was name
Honorary Director of the Baylor
Golden Wave Band, was given the
Baylor Appreciation "Bear" in 1981,
was on the board of directors of the
Baylor-Waco Foundation, and served
as president of the old Waco
Quarterback Club.
He and his wife served as
co-presidents of Heritage Club in
1995-1996. In the community, Mr.
Edens led in building the original
Southern Little League Ball Park and
coached for five years. For several
years he was presiding judge of the
21st Electoral District of McLennan
County.He was Past Master and life
member of the Baylor Masonic Lodge,
being honored on his 50th
anniversary in 1999. For several
years he was a member of the E.A.O.C.
executive board and a commissioner
with the Boy Scouts of America. He
was a charter member and deacon of
Lake Shore Baptist Church.
He was preceded in death by his
wife, Penny, in 2003;
daughter-in-law, Virginia Edens, and
grandson, Michael Walsh. He is
survived by two sons, John Edens of
Phoenix, Az., and David Edens and
wife, Scherry of Keller; daughter,
Penny Ann Parker of Waco;
grandchildren, Roger Edens and wife,
Kellie, Brent Edens, David Edens and
wife, Julie, and Erik Edens; and
great-grandchildren, Alexis Edens
and Leonard Edens. Memorials may be
made to the charity of your choice.
You may send an email to the family
at www.oakcrestwaco.com March 19,
1914 - Jan. 30, 2006
Reproduced
with permission of
the
Waco
Tribune-Herald, Copyright 2006
It was the most
beautiful gift I (as a nine year old) could ever imagine getting my
parents for their anniversary. A pair of yellow milky glass salt shakers.
And by some amazing miracle they were less than two dollars! I found them
up on a shelf behind some other treasures at my favorite place to go on a
Saturday when I was growing up—the Baylor Drug Store.
My best friend, Susan,
and I would ride our bicycles from the faculty housing to explore the
fantasyland that was Baylor drug, that—little did we know then—was the
place Roger Edens had offered to generations of people young and old
alike. In the almost forty years that he owned and operated it, it changed
a bit and certain amenities came and went—a soda fountain, a coffee and
sandwich counter, a pharmacy, and even a little girl’s wonderland just
looking through all of that stuff—but it was always one of the many ways
Roger Edens gave flavor to the world around him. Whether it was the signs
up on the wall, “One for $1.50, Two for $3.00” or the Baylor Line written
out in the back, a Homecoming celebration, or simply the warmth and
friendliness with which you were greeted when you walked in the door, it
was Roger’s domain as much as this church was.
Some of Jesus’ more
cryptic words on discipleship have to do with our command to be salt and
light in the world, but when I think of Roger Edens I think I understand
that scripture a little more. Because if there was anyone who knew how to
be salt in the world, it was Roger Edens. His presence brought out more
flavor, more meaning, more everything for his participation. So much of
that has already become clear in Sharlande’s words and those of the former
pastors of this church. But just a glance at his resume on paper shows it
in so many other places as well—in his tenure as the President and
Treasurer of the Baylor Alumni Association, in his creation of Cabaret, a
homecoming production he came up with when tickets to Pigskin were sold
out, in his presence at most every Baylor game, win or lose and, yes,
maybe even in the bets he would sometimes make with close friend, Jack
Staples, about Baylor/Texas games. They weren’t about money. They were
about stamina and heart.
One time when the teams
played in Waco, Roger, the consummate Baylor fan, (whom you may remember
had “Beat Texas” written in the concrete in front of the store) and Jack,
a die-hard Texas fan, bet that the person whose team lost would have to
remain in the stadium until everyone else left.
After that experience
Roger said, “Did you know some people stay hours after the game? They even
bring in dinner and just stay and stay and stay.” It was after dark when
he finally got home, missing the gathering of folks in his home who came
after every game to analyze the afternoon’s plays.
And though in some ways
one could say he was happiest when Baylor won and saddest when they lost,
there was so much more to Roger than that. As Roger’s friend Jim Cole
says, “Roger was the model of consistency. He simply accepted the height
of responsibility for what needed to be done whenever it needed to be
done.”
But that didn’t mean that he was only about getting work done or making a
profit at Baylor drug. No matter how much he protested, generosity was the
name of the game. When students came in to the counter for coffee he would
let them stay and do homework, taking as long as they wanted. When they
needed him to hold a check for a few days before cashing it, he was always
glad to do so. Long before there was a Student Union there was Roger Edens
and Baylor Drug.
I’m told when Abner
McCall was president of Baylor he used to stop by the Baylor Drug on the
way home everyday for two reasons. The first was to get a candy bar,
because his wife Mary wouldn’t let him have one so often at home. But the
second was to find out from Roger what was really going on at Baylor.
Since Roger was in the store all day and would have students and others at
the counter visiting and talking about the latest—that’s what McCall
wanted to know.
Students who came
through school during the years of Baylor Drug have story after story
after story. Just last night one of our church members called and told me
about being a senior at Baylor and waiting in line one time to get his
absentee voting ballot notarized and sent in. Roger, the notary public for
whom they were all in line, didn’t charge a single one of them.
We can’t talk about
Roger, of course, without mentioning his almost life-long partner, his
wife Penny. It was when she was a freshman at Baylor that they first met.
She saw him just outside the chemistry building and liked what she saw, “a
football player and older” she wrote in a journal, “a good kisser too” she
would add later. They went on their first date to the Baylor football
banquet and subsequently began a three and a half year courtship before
they married at First Baptist here in town. That was the beginning of a 62
year partnership that faced all that life brings, joyous and difficult,
but that faced those things together in caring and loving devotion.
Anyone who saw Roger
and Penny as a couple couldn’t help but be a little exhausted at their
schedule. They simply went and did all the time. They loved to travel.
They liked going to the ranch and out on the barge and to New Braunfels or
just about any place with water. And they especially loved being with
their friends. If you listen to stories about Roger and Penny’s life
you’ll hear a lot about close friendships. You’ll hear talk of being as
close as family. You’ll hear of trips taken together with other families.
You’ll hear their children, John, David and Penny Ann, talk about feeling
like cousins with the children of Roger and Penny’s friends to whom they
were not related by blood. You’ll hear about a group of men Roger played
golf with and then ate lunch with in later years. You’ll hear about a
group of couples who played bridge long into the night on countless
weekends. You’ll hear about a supper club that’s gone on for more than
thirty years.
Grady Nutt, whom Roger
once brought to perform at Cabaret, often used to use the phrase, “Friends
who are family and family who are friends.” That’s the closest phrase I’ve
heard that describes the rule of Roger’s life, how he tended to so many
around him. It’s indicative of someone who knew how to live and love big,
and who created intense flavors of care for those all around.
After she lost her
first husband, Bobby, Helen Hamilton used to bring over her daughters to
the Edens’ when their teeth were loose so Roger could pull them since she
couldn’t bear to do it. That was before Roger played matchmaker and
introduced her to his good friend Sam Hastings who had lost his wife,
Mary. Sam and Helen—now married more than 30 years—were just one of the
couples Roger introduced. They were also often on the receiving end of
another of the ways Roger brought flavor to life, his love of practical
jokes.
One time when the
Hamiltons and the Edens’ next door neighbors, the Parsons, were both out
of town, they came home to their dining room furniture and family pictures
completely swapped. The family with three girls had pictures now of the
three boys on their walls and vice versa.
As much as he loved
fun, however, Roger had his priorities clear. He was the consummate
gentleman and his love for his children was a constant for him. On those
nights when he was scheduled to close the drug store, he would make a
point to come home and eat dinner with the family before he headed back to
the store to close it up for the evening.
Also, as anyone who frequented Baylor Drug could tell you, Roger didn’t
like to throw anything away. That carried over to his home life as well.
Not that long ago he and his daughter, Penny Ann, were cleaning out an old
storage shed behind the house and they found quite a bit of leftover paint
and chemicals that they knew they were not going to need. Penny tried to
explain that these days you couldn’t just throw away things like that,
that there were rules around these things. No matter to Roger, he had her
drive him around the neighborhood and surrounding area to find any workers
out working and then would offer them the paint. If they said “yes” to one
can, he would make them take at least two.
Roger had many sides to him. A passion he shared with his good friend
Rufus Spain was reciting poetry from memory, often while playing golf no
less. And though it’s already been said, it’s just not a complete picture
without again mentioning the unwavering commitment to this church and the
ways his spirit and his creativity, his living out of his faith, have
literally been part of the foundation here.
No life is perfect, of
course. No one either. Roger had his faults just as we all do. Beyond that
though the last few years were not years to delight in like so many of his
previous years had been. Declining health and the terrible journey of
Alzheimer’s left him much more reliant on others than he would have ever
liked to be, though it also showed the fruits of the lifelong friendships
he had built. In particular these last few years he has relied on his
daughter, Penny Ann, for help and support and she untiringly gave it.
Before she died,
Roger’s wife, Penny, requested that at her memorial we read the Romans
passage with which we’re all so familiar. “Nothing shall separate us from
the love of God, neither death nor life, nor things present nor things to
come, nor powers, nor principalities, nor heights nor depths, nor anything
else in all creation.” It seemed only fitting that we read it on this day
as well. It’s big language, but it it’s the truth we remind ourselves of
today and it is our assurance—That this one whom we loved is now himself
held safe and embraced in love. That in the mystery of heaven he is now
healed and whole again and reunited with his lifelong love.
Though there is much
grace in a body that suffered so much finally being at peace, those of you
who knew Roger throughout much of his life probably have a hard time
picturing him resting. It’s not something he did much during his life. And
it’s hard sometimes not to think that we don’t just make heaven into what
we hope it will be. But somehow I don’t think rest was Roger’s idea of
heaven. Instead maybe he’s organizing something, tinkering with something
or maybe just enjoying one of Penny’s famous plays, flavoring up the place
in some way.
Whatever shape this
“rest” he has found takes, one thing is certain—that the God who walked
alongside him during his years of service to this church, to students at
Baylor, to his friends and family, and to all of those whose paths crossed
his is the God who holds him now in healing and in love. Thanks be to God.
This sermon has been taken directly from what was delivered
in worship. Therefore the style of expression is more of spoken English
than written.
III.
The Ministry of Roger Edens
to Lake Shore Baptist Church
Sharlande Sledge
February 1, 2006
One afternoon about ten years ago as I was leaving Roger and Penny’s
house, Roger asked, “Anything I
can do for you? If there’s
anything I can do at church, let
me know.” His helpfulness knew no
end.
Sunday afternoon, I returned to
the church after visiting Roger at
Wesley Woods. When I pulled in the
driveway, my eyes started playing
tricks on me. I could see Roger,
sitting on the ground near Bishop
Drive, tinkering with the
sprinkler system that always
seemed to need more attention than
a newborn baby. I could see Roger
and Penny, Sam and Helen Hastings,
and Jean and George Williams
walking down the sidewalk after
worship the morning I snapped
their picture for the church
directory. And there Roger was,
shaking his head as he
straightened the “no parking” sign
to its standing position after I
backed over it and flattened it
into the ground. Roger always
believed the staff should park on
the street and not take up parking
places in the driveway -- or run
over the “no parking” sign.
I walked into my office and looked
back outside. Those of us with
windows overlooking the front
lawn, with air-conditioned offices
and computers and Diet Cokes, had
front-row seats for watching Roger
do the hands-on work of ministry.
Sunday I pictured Roger’s red
truck or red car -- whatever red
vehicle he had at the time --
pulling up to the curb, and, no
more than three minutes later,
Rufus Spain or Bruce Neatherlin,
arriving for a high-level
street-side meeting, usually about
a building and grounds dilemma and
likely involving the sprinkler
system.
I looked out the window again and
saw him loading Penny Ann’s car
with Meals on Wheels lunches and
filling the back of his truck with
Christmas presents from our
missions tree; he always asked to
take the gifts to Woodland Springs
Nursing Home. I saw him turning on
the water after supper on
Wednesday nights in July, so the
children could run through the
sprinklers.
There was Roger in the office, hot
and dirty, taking a break from
mowing the lawn and asking if we
had anything sweet to eat. I
pictured Roger in his Sunday best,
sitting on the bench outside the
sanctuary before worship, standing
up on his cranky knees in the
presence of female company as long
he was able, giving hugs and
kisses and handshakes to everyone.
I thought about one Friday last
spring, while Penny Ann was in the
kitchen preparing Meals on Wheels,
when Roger and I sat on that same
bench and talked about his funeral
and his being ready to go. I
thought about the countless
geraniums, struggling to survive
in the shade outside the door,
that thrived when the went home to
Roger's back porch. Every inch of
this church, inside and out, is
touched with Roger’s fingerprints.
What an interesting vocation it is
. . . this vocation called
ministry. Some of us preach and
write talk about verses like “true
love that shows itself in action,”
verses about “love being patient
and kind.” The well from which we
draw would not be nearly so deep
if we couldn't look out the window
and see people like Roger doing
ministry, living out their faith
in the practical things of daily
life -- with the shovels and the
clay pots and Christmas gifts and
parking signs and sacks of food.
Our pastors at Lake Shore knew
Roger at different stages in his
life. Some knew him nearly fifty
years ago, when he was a charter
member of Lake Shore, or when he
and Sam Hastings and Bill
Bellinger donned angel wings for
Penny's musical, Merry Poppins,
for the 40th anniversary
celebration. Those of us who came
after Roger retired from Baylor
Drug knew Roger as our on-site
“Minister of Anything You Need
Done,” always serving however he
could . . . until Penny called him
home to lunch.
All of Lake Shore’s former pastors
had a word of gratitude for
Roger’s life.
Bill Tolar
I remember Roger Edens with great
fondness and appreciation for his
role in
starting Lake Shore Baptist Church
and the wonderful times Floye and
I had with the
Edens family.
Rhea Gray
In a world which has an
over-abundance of takers and a
scarcity of givers, Roger was one
of the true givers, a prolific
mediator of God's unconditional
and self-giving love and a
splendid illustration of what God
intended human beings to be. He
was a genuinely good and caring
man and a dear and treasured
friend to me as well as to more
other pilgrims across his many
years and spheres of influence
than any of us can fully know. I
join you and all these other
fellow pilgrims in giving
gratitude to God for his life and
love.
Deryl Fleming
I remember Roger as a hospitality
Hall-of-Famer. If class is being
at ease with both kings and
commoners, Roger had it. He was
exceedingly generous and
consistently cheerful. I am
grateful my life intersected with
his for almost twelve years.
Richard Groves
The memory that comes to mind
comes from my graduate school days
rather than my days as pastor. I
recall spending many an afternoon
curled up in one of the booths in
Roger’s establishment on the
corner next to Tidwell (where the
BSU is now) reading, or perhaps
talking about deep (theology) or
not so deep (football) matters
with classmates. Roger would come
by periodically and “grumpily” ask
if we wanted to buy more than the
single cup of coffee we had been
nursing for an hour. Years later,
he told me one reason he went out
of business was because “you cheap
students” wouldn’t buy more than a
cup of coffee. I hope that was
just his way of teasing. Roger
provided a human presence that is
sorely missing in most
institutions of higher learning
that I know about.
Roger Paynter
Roger was waiting at the house for
us when we brought Grayson home
from Buckner's after his adoption.
He handed me a Baylor baseball cap
with a $100 bill tucked in the
lining and a note that said "this
will be the beginning of his going
ot Baylor fund."
Nathan Stone
I think of three things about
Roger. 1. I’ll always remember the
twinkle in his eye. He was a jolly
man, and I think of the line "His
eyes how they sparkle" like Santa
in "The Night Before Christmas."
2. He didn't love Lake Shore; he
adored it. 3. Roger was
ever-present. On off-hours, he'd
be here doing something. If I
could make magic I would bronze
him riding the lawn mower on the
front lawn of the church.
He was an action-man.
Brett Younger
Before we moved to Waco, my idea
of a good neighbor was someone who
waved when you drove past, owned
no dogs, and left you alone.
Shortly after we moved into our
house on Charboneau Drive, a big
storm knocked over a couple of
trees and lots of branches in our
backyard. I surveyed the damage
and realized this was going to be
a huge job far beyond both my
capabilities and the strength of
my back. I was looking in the
phone book under tree removal,
trying to figure out who to call,
why I heard a chain saw crank up.
Roger was, quite uninvited, in our
back yard cutting up limbs and
carrying them to the curb. He was
forty-seven years older than I,
but I spent the morning trying in
vain to keep up.
Roger loved taking care of us and
loved it when my children showed
up at his back door. Some people
express their love with words and
some show their love by mowing a
church lawn in need of cutting or
fixing an oven door for a
mechanically-challenged family.
Roger did both. He loved hugs and
smiles and with expressions of
care that often led to sweat. He
loved being a good neighbor.
This week in our church
newsletter, Catherine Davenport
told one of our favorite Roger
stories. “One day the spotlights
in the sanctuary needed to be
replaced and Roger chased down a
Waco fire truck and asked the
firemen to do the job. Before we
knew it, there were three fire
trucks parked outside and fifteen
firemen with ropes and ladders [‘I
counted them!’ Catherine said] in
the sanctuary. Thanks to Roger,
the lights got fixed!” Last night
Catherine said, “I honestly don’t
know how we would survived without
Roger handling all the things he
did for us for those years after
he retired. We couldn’t have made
it.”
Catherine’s story reminds me of
the time I saw a ladder standing
outside the entrance to the
church. I walked out the front
door and didn’t see anyone, but I
heard voices on the roof. I looked
up to see Roger, Rufus, and George
Williams. They were fixing the
roof, they said. This was about
seven years ago, so Roger would
have been – oh, maybe eighty-five.
Catherine and I went back inside
because we couldn't bear to watch
them get from the roof back to the
ladder which was at last three
feet below them. But . . . hey . .
. maybe they saved the church a
little money. Penny Ann said that
often in the last couple of years
she’d drive her dad around the
edge of the playground, and he
would point out slats in the fence
that needed to be fixed.
Rufus tells about the time when
our lawn mower needed repairing,
Roger found out it would cost $35
for the folks at John Deere to
pick up it up and take it to their
shop. So Rufus and Roger met at
the church before daylight to load
the broken mower onto Rufus'
flatbed. In the predawn hours,
before Waco traffic got really
hectic, ministers Spain and Edens
saved the church $35 by driving
our mower slowly across town to
get it repaired.
Many of the responses to the
e-mail we sent out about Roger’s
death were from teenagers or young
adults who grew up at Lake Shore
and cannot imagine this church
without him. I shouldn’t have been
surprised. Roger was a
grandfatherly presence in their
lives, and they loved him and
Penny. Some of the “children” I
heard from were in the fifth grade
when we took baskets of Easter
eggs over their Sunday School
teachers, Sam and Helen Hastings.
But Sam and Helen weren’t home.
Roger was there, taking care of
the yard. He had the grand idea of
floating dozens of plastic eggs on
top of the pool and hiding the
rest around the yard. Sam and
Helen found Easter eggs for years
to come!
One summer morning when our
first-third grade Helping Hands
needed to go the Caritas Garden to
pick tomatoes, Roger offered help.
His job was to transport a huge
cooler of ice water to sustain the
children through the morning. When
our caravan arrived at garden,
Roger was doubled over with
laughter when he got out of his
truck. Four boys popped up from
the bed of the truck, covered in
water. "They had a bath!" Roger
told me, as excited as the
children. We didn’t have any water
to drink -- but Don & Kristi,
Brett & Carol, Gary and Beth--
they really had a good time!
As active as Roger was, he
recognized the times to be still.
How often I saw him sitting in
hospital waiting rooms for hours.
And he sat with his good friend
and neighbor, Jim Parsons, every
time he went to the hospital. By
his quiet example in difficult
times, Roger taught me so much
about showing up being the greater
part of ministry. He sat. He
waited. He kept company. He was a
faithful presence. When times were
hard, he wouldn't have been
anywhere else.
Last Sunday our gospel lesson was
the story of the four friends who
carried their friend to Jesus,
each taking a corner of the
paralyzed man’s blanket. I told
the congregation “I looked around
the edges of the sanctuary and see
so many of you who lifted a corner
of the pallet for Roger the past
few years. You sat by him on
Wednesday nights and on the bench
out in the hall. You walked him to
the car. When he was still living
at home, you took him to lunch or
to a meeting at Baylor. When Roger
moved to Meadowlands, you visited
him. When he moved to Wesley
Woods, you continued to visit him,
even when he could no longer call
your name, even this week when he
is closer to the healing from the
terrible disease that has captured
him.
Even this morning, you lift a
corner of his pallet through
prayer for his peaceful passing
into eternal life.”
And how did Lake Shore learn to do
those things? To care for each
other. To be helpful to our
neighbors and friends. To be
present. One way we learned was
from our teacher Roger.
Mother Teresa said, "God doesn't
call us to great things, but small
things with great love." For
Roger, no job was too small.
Finding the right size box.
Being Santa Claus at the Family
Self-Sufficiency Christmas party.
Moving a table down the hall.
Hanging a picture. Taking flowers
to a nursing home after a funeral.
Handing out worship bulletins.
Pulling out the chair for the
person sitting by him at Wednesday
night supper. In a world driven by
speed, money, and size, Roger's
ministry was about coffee cups,
lawn mowers, and fence slats --
the nuts and bolts of ministry,
literally.
“Be doers of the word,” . . .James
writes, in his epistle, “not
hearers only.” Don't just "hear"
the gospel. “Do” the gospel. Do it
early in the morning and in the
cool of the evening.. Do it
wherever there's a need. Do it for
the child who likes to run through
the sprinklers, for the youth
learning to drive the riding lawn
mower for the elderly person in a
nursing home who still likes to
eat cookies in the afternoon.
I will always hear Roger's voice
asking, "Anything you need me to
do today?"
Surely, it’s a question God would
want echoed from each of us for
many years to come: “God . . .
anything you need me to do today?”
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