Wednesday, December 5, 2001
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Wednesday, December 5, 2001 |
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Rolland was here! Rolland was here! My husband lost his best friend. This is not a news story there are no headlines, no mention in the local paper. In the wake of New York, Washington, and Pittsburgh it's a far too common story. But in this case, no reporter wants to write about him, no flag was at half mast, no trust set up in his name. There was a service in remote Eastman, Ga., where 40 or more fellow workers drove the three hours from Atlanta to attend. His friends from Fayetteville were also there. I was unable to go and was overwhelmed with a need to tell the world that "Rolland was here." He was not a firefighter, nor a policeman. He was not in the armed forces nor a teacher. He was an air traffic controller at the Hampton Center for over 25 years. And though he was one of their best, he will not be remembered for that, for he was a quiet, reserved loner, making few friends. He was not married and had no children. He is survived by his mother, three sisters, one brother and a cousin he was very fond of, but they saw little of him for he was a man who kept to himself, bothering no one and expecting nothing. Yet over three years ago he was introduced to my husband, Gene. What seemed like a casual meeting turned out to be a life-altering experience for both of them. This boyishly shy, gentle man was to take on a role not even Gene could foresee. It wasn't long before they became best friends. They were so different but shared one common love motorcycles. They knew every nut and bolt, every accessory to every kind of bike. Gene admired his knowledge of bikes and Rolland admired Gene's abilities to work on them. They bought, sold and traded bikes regularly as if searching for that perfect bike. After a year or so of daily lunches and constant talk about how great Rolland was, I had the privilege to get to know him too. I found he was also an expert on computers and helped me install new programs and equipment. His patience and knowledge truly amazed me. There just was nothing he didn't know about and no subject unfamiliar to him. I was told he read four newspapers everyday off the Internet to keep himself informed. And he was that! He spent a good bit of time on the Internet investigating new and interesting websites for bikes and products he and Gene would enjoy. Whenever he came across anything he felt we needed to know he would e-mail us the information. This was a daily routine. I remember coming home after a four-day trip to find 68 e-mails on our computer 53 of them from Rolland! When he wasn't at home or at work, he was with Gene, either tinkering on a bike, visiting the many bike shops around town or having one of their many powwow lunches discussing bikes. I was fortunate enough to have been invited to several of these lunches and loved picking his brain on so many different subjects. If we ever had a question, we knew to ask Rolland. But he never made you feel less smart. He never sought to be the center of attention but made you feel smart just for asking a question! But his brilliance was just a small part of who Rolland was. His generosity was astonishing! He was selfless. He was kind and so eager to please. He never raised his voice nor said an unkind thing about anyone. He respected all people and things around him. He listened patiently to anything you had to say. He always put others before himself and never wanted credit for anything. Giving was just reward enough to him. He had a great sense of humor, using himself as his favorite punching bag. He had a boyish giggle when opening any conversation, whether in person or on the phone. You always knew who it was. It automatically put a smile on your face. He wore a constant smile that was very comforting. He smiled so much that our 8-year-old daughter, Jennifer, once asked me where was daddy's "Chinese" friend his smile was so broad, it made his eyes squint almost shut so that he looked oriental. I'll never forget his brilliant orange helmet. Maybe you've seen him in town he could be spotted a mile away. But he felt safe in it. He was very cautious. Which is why it's so surprising that on, Oct. 13 at 10:15 a.m., a clear, brisk morning, while riding his new motorcycle, bought the day before, he was struck by a ladder inappropriately placed in the back of a truck. His helmet went flying as he was thrown off his bike like a ragdoll and the bike proceeded on, toppling over and over, until it came to a wooden fence and exploded. According to witnesses, the driver stopped, saw what had happened and drove away. He left Rolland there to die, face down on the road. He had not worn his brilliant orange helmet. Rolland was on his way, as he so often was, to our house to tinker on Gene's bike. Gene had waited for him most of the morning before going to work. He tried calling all day, leaving at least six messages, but of course, Rolland never called back. It was not until 11:20 p.m. on his way home from work, that Gene learned of Rolland's death from his sister. As we continue to struggle to understand why this happened, Rolland has been cremated and laid to rest in Eastman, Ga. The truck driver has been found and faces charges. Life goes on around us. Ours, too, will continue, I've no doubt, but it will be forever changed. Gene was Rolland's best friend and Rolland was Gene's best friend. We will never forget him because he'll live in our hearts forever. We feel so very lucky to have known him and thankful that "Rolland was here!" Marcy Walker Fayetteville
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