Mr. David James Walker

David James Walker. Deddy. Diddy. Disco Dave. Walker D. He was a big man. A giant really… at least in the eyes of his daughters. A man who knew everything and could fix anything. We were well into twenties before we figured out that he was a real person with real flaws. But the flaws didn’t matter; he was the first person we called when we had a problem. Because he was a fixer. I didn’t know until today why that was so important. I didn’t see it clearly. But I now know why that all matters to me so much. I have prayed desperately since the night he had his tracheotomy and couldn’t speak anymore for him to find peace. For him to not be afraid. I have never questioned that my Deddy loved Jesus, and in my head I know that is all it takes. But I have prayed for reassurance that he knew that he would go to heaven, and Jesus would be waiting on him there. My deddy has never talked about his faith… and I needed more than knowing. And as I sat here watching my deddy struggle for breath my mother told me why he never talked about his faith. She found a job application he had written that specifically asked him about his faith. He wrote: “In my life, my faith and family is what motivates me. I have been placed here to serve others, and that is why I am compelled to teach… I do not speak about my faith. I spend my days seeking to demonstrate my faith through my work and my actions. My father taught me not to listen to people when they speak about how religious they are, but instead to watch what they chose to do and not do – that will speak volumes about their faith.” And oh, how my deddy showed it through his actions. He was a helper. This is the answer to my long standing prayer. This is the final piece of the puzzle for my heart to accept what my mind knew. And how was he a helper? I think everyone would have a different answer to that question. His students would tell you he made math and science fun. He thought physics was fascinating and nerdy math jokes were funny. In physics classes he created human chains with a Van de Graaff generator (google it) on one end and an unsuspecting passerby in the hall who would get a shock on the other. He created pendulums and if you didn't stand back far enough when you swung it you might knock a tooth out. I promise his students remember those lessons vividly. He was brilliant. He was inspired. He was a star teacher. Multiple times the highest ACT scorer that school year named him their Star Teacher. Many of his students are now teachers, and they found their love of teaching others through him. Inspiring a love of learning in others motivated him, and because of that motivation he lives on in those classrooms through those teachers who were first taught by him. His basketball and tennis players would tell you he taught them more than a sport. He taught them teamwork and that hard work and practice reap rewards. My sister and I grew up at Tennis South on McDowell Road. It was our playground. It was part of his world. My deddy strung rackets, kept unopened cans of tennis balls in the refrigerator, and wore hilarious tennis outfits. He was all in. We knew it. His players knew it. In basketball he believed in man-on-man defense and making your free throws. His coaching didn’t include a raised voice. He rarely did that. But if his players felt anything like his daughters, none of us wanted to disappoint him. Yelling was never necessary. And it was a good strategy… he won basketball titles… he was named coach of the year.... he changed lives. Everyone who knew him would tell you he brought laughter to the conversation. He was funny. Oh so funny. I wish we had some of his humor right now to ease the hurt. He made sure I knew all the best dorm pranks before I went to college. He taught me how to spray someone with shaving cream through a closed door, and that it could drive people crazy if you dropped a lone ping pong ball on the tile hall in the middle of the night. I feel for his college dorm mates, he probably drove them crazy. He knew life didn’t always have to be serious. He wore socks with Birkenstocks, and giant red suspenders with his work jeans. One Halloween evening he started a project to put a new door through the wall into our living room.... with a chainsaw. It just seemed like the best time to handle that part of the house remodel, and it was just excellent that he gave me a heart attack in the process. He wanted to name me Ruth; because it was biblical and he maybe so he could call me “Baby Ruth.” He called my sister Loretta Ann because she used to sing country songs in the shower when she was small. He was the creator of “bed quakes” and “killer pillows." Waking up in our home was never boring. And his babies. His granddaughters. They won’t remember it all, but he taught them so much. He had chocolate bars and M&Ms. He was an excellent nap buddy. He was their Big Deddy, and he was bigger than life for them too. He was so many things and so special in so many ways… he had a beautiful voice… artistic handwriting. He loved Star Wars, the Big Bang Theory, and science fiction. He wore Adidas, and loved German chocolate cake. He could draw, and paint but rarely exercised those talents in his adult life. He built things, even if it took him years to finish. He made the best pan fried tilapia, fried catfish, and hushpuppies you have ever eaten. He taught Sunday School. But now? Well now his ALS is gone. He has a magnificent, miraculous heavenly healing. He is playing tennis with Allen Vest. He is watching some of his players play basketball. He is hugging his sweet parents. And he has probably found Mr. Killebrew and determined all the best places for them to watch their granddaughters grow and make them proud. He is with us. We miss him now, but we know he is welcomed by others and one day we will all be together again. So many have loved Deddy and us so well through this. He leaves behind a Walker D sized hole in so many lives. But he was surrounded by many of us as he took his last breaths and we are so thankful to love him in those moments. He leaves behind his wife, Carol; daughters, Allison (Shane) and Carol Ann (Patrick); and granddaughters Caroline and Anna Ford. He will be so missed by his sister Dell, and her family; Bethany, Leigh (Bert), Walker, Cooper, Avery, Evie and Rett. His immediately family might have been small, but he married into a McRaney family that loved him big: Janis (Billy), Robert (Kathy), Susan, and Diane. He had an entire clan of nieces and nephews: Christy (Lee), Bill (Newby), Deanna (Barry), Brad (Fran), Laurie (Toby), Kimberly (Andrew), Robin (Matt), Ryan (Lauren), Ronnie Wade (Aimee), Forrest, and Hillary. And with them comes tons of great-nieces and nephews. He had a Jackson Public School District family and a Hinds Community College family. He had a family of believers at Alta Woods UMC. And he had wonderful sitters: Carmaker, Ledora, and Lillian. They cared for him and loved him like family. All of these people were loved by and loved him. What a life he lived. What a great example. The best example. I am so glad he was my deddy. Visitation will be held at Chancellor Funeral Home in Byram on October 6 from 6-8pm. A celebration of his life, because he wanted a party, will be at Alta Woods United Methodist Church in Jackson on October 7 at 11am. Visitation will be held from 10-11am at Alta Woods. Memorials can be made to Alta Woods United Methodist Church or to the ALS Foundation.