DEAR SON...
This Short Talk Bulletin was inspired by two sentences contained in an
extensive report to the Grand Master in Texas in 1978 by the Grand Lodge
Printing Committee. We thank Right Worshipful Brother Furman Vinson, P.G.M.,
Texas, for sharing this report with us.
"There is reason to believe that the family relationship is a weak link in
the process that induces young men to seek Light within Freemasonry. Masons who
attend lodge fifty or sixty times a year in addition to other Masonic
organizations, are officers, or are engaged in a lot of committee work which
take them away from their families, may be setting examples their sons do not
wish to follow. "
It was not a pleasure trip for Jim. He had just flown half way across the
country on a variety of air lines, and was now driving a rental car into the
little town where he had been born and where he had grown up. It had been
several years since he had been to his hometown. Many changes had taken place.
Mentally, Jim was making note of the changes.
There was a new wing on the old school from which he had graduated so many
years ago .... a filling station where the old feed store used to be .... a
motel sprawled across the field where he used to play baseball .... a municipal
parking lot with parking meters had replaced the movie hall .... and there was a
fancy new hardware store next to the old drug store in the Masonic temple. Jim
continued driving slowly through the center of town to an impressive turn-of-
the-century white house with its manicured lawn. A dignified sign identified the
house as "Goode Funeral Home--Benjamin A. Goode, Funeral Director." Parking the
car, Jim took a deep breath, walked to the door and rang the bell. Answering the
melodic chimes was a man with a full head of snow-white hair which accentuated
his red face and penetrating eyes. Jim remembered Mr. Goode as one of his
father's best friends, and was expecting him to be long-faced and distraut over
his father's death.
Instead, Ben Goode was jovial and seemed genuinely glad to see Jim, greeting
him with a hearty smile and firm handclasp. "Jim, you've grown a foot at least
since I last saw you. C'mon into the kitchen and let's have a cup of coffee and
a gab fest." One cup led to another as Jim told Mr. Goode of his stint with the
Marines in Viet Nam, his college days and his struggles in the business world.
And, of course, he bragged about the fact that his wife was about to present him
with their first child.
That was when Mr. Goode first mentioned Jim's father. "I remember the night
when you were born. Your Dad was about the proudest father I ever saw. He came
right from the hospital to the Lodge Hall bragging that Martha had just given
birth to the future Master of Glenview Lodge. After the work that night, your
Dad went down to the drug store and bought a box of the best 25c cigars they had
and passed 'em around during refreshment."
Jim squirmed a bit in his chair and mumbled something about hadn't they
better talk about arrangements for the funeral. "Nope!" Ben said, "When your Dad
was Master of the Lodge, he planned every detail of every meeting .... and they
always went off without a hitch. His funeral will, too, 'cause he planned it
all. Reverend Shuter, who was Grand Chaplain a couple of years back, will
conduct the service here at the Home; Ole Johnson, the Lodge Organist will play
the music; the Pall Bearers are all Past Masters and the Graveside Service will
be conducted by Bill Avery, the District Deputy, and the boys from the Lodge.
You don't have to worry about a thing. "
Before leaving the funeral home, Jim looked in where his father's body rested
in the coffin surrounded by mounds of flowers. Dad looked natural and at peace.
The Past Master's jewel on his coat lapel glistened. Jim closed his eyes and
offered a silent prayer.
As he said goodnight to his father's old friend, Ben Goode handed Jim an
envelope. "Special delivery," he said. "Your Dad gave this to me a couple of
weeks ago. Said he didn't trust the Post Office."
Once in his motel room, Jim took the envelope out of his pocket. In bold
letters across the face of it, his father had written, "James Arthur Mastain."
Inside the envelope were five pages of a hand written letter in the clear,
though shaky, handwriting of his father. He read:
"Dear Son:
Don't grieve for me. While the end of my mortal life draws near, I eagerly
look forward to my journey to that undiscovered country from whose bourne no
traveller returns.
I have lived a full, rich life. The good Lord has blessed me with his bounty.
Until this past year, I have had excellent health. Your mother and I had
forty-seven years of mutual trust, understanding and love, before she went to
her eternal rest. We were truly blessed when you came into our lives. We tried
to give you the best of everything. We gloried in your accomplishments and
shared your troubles. You are now a man, though you'll always be my little boy.
You served your country well, and you are well on your way to becoming a
successful business man. I'm proud of you, son, and am sorry I will not get to
see my grand-child.
As I explained to you when you came back from Viet Nam, I could never ask you
to become a Mason, that it must be your desire to become one. I'm hoping that
some day you will decide to become part of that Universal Brotherhood which has
been such a major factor in my life.
Last night, in an effort to take my mind off my physical discomfort, I
recited every bit of Masonic ritual I could remember, and mentally checked off
how I had put into practice the tenets and teachings of Freemasonry. For the
most part, I think I have been a true Man and Mason.
Masonry has made me a better man. It has brought me close to my religious
teachings. It has made me a better person, a better husband and made me feel
closer to Almighty God. I have enjoyed the fellowship of my Brothers and shared
in their concern for our fellowman.
There are some definite duties that a man owes to his God, his country, his
family, his neighbor, and to himself. The one area in which I failed was in my
duties to the family. When you were growing up, you must have thought there was
nothing else in my life but Masonry. I realize now that I was over-zealous in my
lodge activities--Lodge meetings, visitations, rehearsals, committees, study
groups, candidate instruction.
I can't help wondering if that is why you never asked for a petition. It just
may be that I gave you the wrong impression--that it was all work--that the
duties of a Mason were too time consuming. One of the lessons in the ritual is
that we should never let our zeal for the institution interfere with our usual
vocations. I guess you might say that that's a lesson I learned--too late.
Son, my inevitable meeting with death is near, but my journey leads to the
Everlasting Habitation of our creator. I ask that you think on these things.
Be a good man, a faithful husband, a loving and understanding father, true to
the faith of your acceptance, and a good citizen. While these are the
teachings of Freemasonry, they are attributes of a real man.
Your loving Father. "
Jim read the letter over and over. He recalled those high school days when
Dad couldn't attend the school play in which he had the lead because it was
"Official Visitation." He remembered the time when he wanted to get some
paternal advice, only to find that "Dad's gone to a meeting. " He smiled as he
remembered one time when they were in church. When the minister closed his
prayer with "Amen," Dad had automatically boomed, "So Mote it be."
Yes, he thought, I guess I have been "turned off" on the Masons. And, I guess
it was because Dad worked so hard at it. I never knew much about it, but did
know that it took a lot of work and a lot of time. I guess I just didn't want to
get involved.
It was a big funeral. Ben Goode bustled around seeing that everyone was
seated just so. The Masons all sat together. Jim couldn't help but think that
they were here paying their respects to a Brother Mason, a friend and a man.
Everything went off just as Ben Goode had said it would..."without a hitch" --
just as Dad had planned it.
Returning from the graveside service Jim thought, "What a great bunch of
guys. Everyone of them had been influenced by Dad. They really loved him. What a
close-knit group they are. There must be something to their talk about
"immortality." They really make me feel that Dad isn't dead--he's just gone on a
trip to a better life.
As they drove up to the Funeral Home, Mrs. Goode came out to meet them.
"Jim," she said, "the hospital just called. Beth and your SON are both fine."
Jim broke into a wide grin. "Ben," he said, "Let's go down to the drug store and
get some of those 25c cigars. The boys at the lodge might like to know about the
future Worshipful Master."
All names, places, events and lodges mentioned in this Bulletin are
fictional. Any relationship to actual events is purely intentional. And, as this
is fiction, you can be sure that in subsequent weeks, Jim Mastain ''saw the
Light. "
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