PICAYUNE — Dad’s watch, rings, pocket knife, and that old straw hat he wore religiously every day was all that I had left of him, except for my treasured memories of him teaching me about life. These weren’t lessons I could learn at school, but the kind only a father could teach. These memories will forever live on in my mind and conjure up a host of emotions.

  Daddy was gone on to be with the Lord, and I felt it was my place to be the man of the family being the only son, I felt great pressure to fill Daddy’s shoes. I wasn’t sure I could even fill Daddy’s socks, much less his shoes!

  Daddy was a visionary and I always wondered where that came from. He was not highly educated and most of his working life was driving a freight truck. Daddy’s lessons on life always, and I mean always, turned out just like he predicted, but don’t think while growing up I did not try  to prove him wrong on his guidance.

  At the end of the day, Daddy was always right. I cannot complain, he and Mother helped shape and mold me into the man I am today— but where did he get that incredible vision, patience, and perseverance? I would find the answer in Daddy’s garage.

  One Saturday, months after Daddy passed away, I decided to clean out his garage. Daddy’s garage had over 50 years of stuff that he had saved. An old life preserver that I wore when I was three years old, a minnow bucket covered with spider webs that we used to take fishing with us.

  I found my old baseball that he used to throw too me in the backyard. I also came across that old homemade sleigh that he made me, from an old wooden pallet, since we could not afford a store bought one. All the old items I found were remnants of a simpler, innocent time.  

  I spotted Daddy’s canvas sling back wooden chair. My earliest childhood memories called me to my backyard in Memphis, Tennessee. Daddy would hold me in his lap sitting in that same yard chair. He would tell me about the different birds and the sounds they made. He even taught me to whistle in that chair. Those were the good old days.

  I have a clear recollection of Daddy sitting in that chair while I cut the grass. There was nothing better than receiving Daddy’s nod of approval and the scent of freshly cut grass in the air. When darkness would fall and only the sounds of crickets broke the silence, he would teach me how to locate the Big Dipper and other stars.

  Daddy sat in that yard chair almost every day for hours when he wasn’t out driving freight. I asked Mama how old the chair was and she said, “It has to be almost sixty years old.” It had been re-covered several times. It might sell for $5 at a yard sale, but it was a treasure to me.

  I took it to the backyard and placed it under the live oak tree that Daddy told Mama to buy me a few months before he died. He had told her, “Buy Jim a big strong live oak tree that will provide shade and that he can sit under.”

  Mother bought one tree that was from Daddy and one from her, and we planted them close together so they would provide shade faster. I sat down in Daddy’s chair. As I sat under those trees, I leaned back and closed my eyes. I wanted to see and hear what my Daddy saw and heard. I wanted the echo of thought from times past to go through my mind and give me peace, as it had to Daddy.

  At that moment, I heard a small splash. It was birds bathing in the bird bath. They were splashing, chirping and drying their feathers in the sunshine as if they didn’t have a care in the world. From above a flock of Canada geese landed on the lake behind our house effortlessly gliding down into the water.

  I began to think about the maintenance, grounds and janitorial company that Daddy, Mama and I formed almost a decade ago. Today J.I. Luke Enterprises is still owned by us, but it is managed by my wife, Karen. This came about all because of a dream that was hatched in that yard chair.

  A decade before that my mother was coordinator for the Mississippi Council on Aging 60 Plus Club planning bus trips for seniors. When Mother left the program, Daddy took her idea of traveling with seniors and retired from truck driving and began America First Tours. They both ran a successful bus tour business all over the United States and Canada.   

  Mother told me that much of the planning probably happened in that yard chair. Daddy took the yard chair to family reunions as well as fishing. We would go to the family fishing rodeos sit in our yard chairs baiting our hooks with everything from worms to crickets. We would sit there patiently, watching closely for any signs of movement of our fishing line hoping to pull in the big one.

  I remembered any time Mama would fuss at Daddy, he would not argue but would retreat to the yard chair. Here he took time to smell the roses, gardenias and the scent of jasmine growing nearby and listened to the music of the wind chimes singing softly in the breeze. Daddy sat in that old sling back yard chair watching the magnolia trees blooming in the back yard and the world going by doing his best thinking in that sling- back yard chair.

  I remembered being a young boy sitting next to my grandfather and daddy near two young oak trees in Kemper County Mississippi. I recalled they were sitting in yard chairs while my dad would ask for and listen to his daddy’s advice.

Now it was my turn. My daddy had left me something more valuable than money or material things. He left me his sling back canvas yard chair and a pair of oak trees. A little bit of heaven right before my eyes saved for me to enjoy. That chair has become my sanctuary, my place of peace where I could escape from all the responsibilities of day to day life.

  Recently, I was sitting in the thinking chair and I felt something crawling up my pant leg. I looked down to discover it was a baby squirrel. I watched it, as it climbed tentatively up my pants leg, marveling at the unique creature.

  I sat still so as not to scare it and watched in amazement as it came towards my hands and ate pecans. For two weeks this little squirrel would come and eat pecans from my hand in the chair under the live oaks. Then it moved on leaving me a little more in awe of nature and God’s creations. It was such a small thing beside me, like God to us, but it had trusted me as the provider of its needs for a short span in time.

  I’ve realized that the thinking chair is the most valuable piece of furniture I own for what it provides to me. As the Chief of Police in Picayune, it helps me to get away from the pressures of work, e-mails, cell phones and family demands. Trouble and stress seem to melt away and peace remains.

  The chair provides an opportunity to slow down, think and renew my mind just as it did for Daddy. That yard chair brought with it, through time, stories of our past. Earlier generations in their wisdom cared for and preserved the history of that chair. Now it was my turn.

  ”Be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God— What is good and acceptable and perfect.”  Romans 12:2