Ted Lawler

He was a brilliant guy who could remember all kinds of information such as the exact date he bought his first car, the make, model and color and probably the serial number. He could recall most every hole on most every golf course he ever played, every fight he ever had (and that was a lot), but he often couldn't remember to pick up the cleaning or stop for a loaf of bread on his way home from work. Having a near photographic memory, Ted excelled in academics even though he never took a note in any of his classes or made a single mark or highlight in a text book. He made all As except for one B in Statistics, and that course was so tough he was glad he made a B. His depth of knowledge in such a wide range of subjects earned him the nickname "The Brain Man." He was also known to many friends and family as "TedTed," which all the little kids called him and a lot of the big kids too. In addition to being an exceptional storyteller and a prolific joke teller, Ted was a wordsmith with an impressive vocabulary. Being the funny, quick-witted guy he was, he coined many twisted words and phrases by switching syllables of multiple words around making all sorts of crazy words, which I later learned are called "spoonerisms." Funny as it was, I cautioned him to not use so many spoonerisms around the grandchildren as they wouldn't know how to talk when they went to school. I could just imagine them going to first grade and proudly saying they were in the "girst frade" or telling their teacher they needed to go to the "rathboom." Despite his pranks and mischievous ways, Ted was a man of depth and compassion. His eyes often filled with tears at hearing a sweet story or watching a sad movie. The little ones went to TedTed with a skinned knee or hurt feelings, and as they got older, he answered questions about God and death and explained difficult issues such as world events and life situations. His thoughtful, soft-spoken words comforted many hospice patients and family members during the ten years or so he volunteered at BSA Hospice. Among his many achievements, being a hospice volunteer was the one he valued the most. Ted's life began on July 7, 1941 in a small hospital in Sayre, Oklahoma. He was underweight and sickly. He attributes his survival to his grandmother who wrapped him from head to toe in blankets and put him close to the heated oven. Night after night she watched over this fragile infant and turned him every 30 minutes. He survived but didn't thrive well. He was scrawny and quiet. His father thought he was a weakling and a coward. In a few years, that would change. Even before Ted began school, he started working to help his family to make ends meet. He took any job he could physically manage: mowing lawns, painting fences, delivering eggs and milk from the farm and people's ironing that his mother took in. Ted's father was a hard-nosed man who expected Ted to work like a man even when he was just a little scraggly, tow-headed kid. When he was around seven years old he got his first steady job washing dishes in a cafe where his mother worked. He was so small he had to stand on a milk crate to reach the sink. What little money he made, he gave to his dad to help support the family. Ted had seen a shiny new harmonica in a store in Shamrock and wanted it so badly he tucked a little of his dishwashing money away and saved enough to buy it. He had no idea how to play it, but he would silently wander away and go down to the creek behind their house and blow on it, picking out some notes and blends. He blew and blew into that harmonica and taught himself how to play quite a few tunes on it. That hard-earned harmonica was a treasure to him throughout his life. Ted's father was the janitor at the school and drove the school bus, and he put Ted to work early on. He began working in the school cafeteria cleaning the dirty trays and plates the kids brought him to scrape into the big garbage can. He did that until he was big enough to push a big industrial dust mop around the school. He became a janitor, working right along side his father sweeping and mopping floors, cleaning blackboards, picking up all the trash and emptying it into the big commercial trash receptacle outside. Even though he could barely push the big broom, he wouldn't complain. He knew not to do that and just kept silently working. No one knew that while he was doing his janitorial work, he was building strong muscles underneath that tattered shirt. Ted was pretty much a loner and had few friends, but he always took up for the little guy. One day as he was standing off aways from the other kids on the playground. He heard a commotion and saw a crowd of boys gathered around in a circle. When he went over to see what was going on, he saw two boys in the middle duking it out. One was the school bully; the other was a younger, smaller scared kid. Ted pushed his way through the circle and confronted the bully. It didn't take long for the puny-looking, skinny kid in the worn out overalls to take the ruffian down. The crowd quickly dispersed and Ted helped the little bloody-nosed boy up and took him to the school nurse to tend to his wounds. The summer before Ted's freshman year in high school, Ted, his mother and Ted's younger brother, JD had gone to a hospital in Dallas for JD to have a complicated medical procedure on the veins in his legs. It was during this hospital stay that Ted had a chance encounter with "a guardian angel," a lovely older lady who also had a family member in the same hospital. She and Ted became acquainted during the long hours spent in the waiting room. The lady recognized the limitations of Ted's life situation and saw a bright, charming young man whom she believed, with a hand up, was capable of achieving a high level of success. That lady turned out to be the dean of students at SMU and she became Ted's benefactor. He went home, and with his parents' approval, packed his bag and left his small town, farm boy roots and moved to her sprawling home in Highland Park, where he lived for the next two years. He flourished in his new school, making top marks and many new friends. Then his father called. Ted was needed at home. Ted's father had accepted a new job, not just a job for him alone…a job for the entire family. They had been hired to live on and be the caretakers of the Glen Dell ranch near Kelton, Texas. Again, Ted packed his bag. He said goodbye to his life in an affluent neighborhood and high school and returned to an around-the-clock job in the field. He put on his boots, donned his hat and work gloves, got on his horse or the tractor and went to work. That's when he became a ranch hand and a cowboy. His golden opportunity in Dallas didn't come to fruition, but he had discovered for the first time that there was a big world and limitless opportunities beyond the hard life on a ranch. He graduated high school in Kelton and received a scholarship to study engineering at the University of Arizona. Once again, he packed his bag, traded his saddlebag for a backpack and moved to Tucson, Arizona. During his junior year, Ted's second golden opportunity in Tucson was shattered when he broke his back in a motorcycle crash. He was told he wouldn't walk again, but after six months in the hospital, he walked out on his own. Unable to continue his studies, he decided to return to Texas, but this time he did not return to the farm. He found a room for rent in downtown Amarillo and hit the streets looking for a job. A natural-born salesman, it didn't take long for him to find a job working at the old Firestone store on 10th Street selling tires. From there he moved on to selling used cars on 8th Street and at some point in time, he hit the road travelling thousands of miles in three different states selling just about everything imaginable. His wholesale catalogue was enormous and had everything under the sun in it: nuts, bolts, screws, plumbing supplies, perfume, guns, cigars, jewelry, fruitcake, and even Madame Alexander dolls. He set sales records selling fruitcakes. And how did he do that? He took a fruitcake into every story he called on, sliced it up for the boss and employees and everyone wanted one. Big holiday orders for fruitcakes were a sure thing and pretty much guaranteed. After his years of being a travelling salesman, he was ready for a change and the oil boom of the late 70s presented Ted with a new opportunity. His good friend, Frank Foxhall of Memphis, Texas, wanted to form an oil-related business and wanted a top-notch salesman as his partner. FoxLaw was born, and times were good for about ten years. Then came the oil crash of the 80s and FoxLaw eventually had to close its doors. Ted was faced with the end of another era…and the beginning of a new one. It took some time for him to regroup but he found a new calling and purpose in Sunday School one Sunday morning when he heard a speaker from what was then St. Anthony's Hospice. The speaker was the Volunteer Coordinator, and she urged those in the class to consider becoming hospice volunteers. Ted signed up that day and, as the saying goes, the rest is history. For it was there that he met a key person in his life journey. That person happened to be me…the new Volunteer/Education Coordinator. We grew to love and appreciate each other as we ministered to the dying and their families. The beautiful, spiritual experiences we shared at hospice brought us close together, so close together, in fact, that we were married on June 19, 1998. At age 51, Ted decided to go to back to school and complete his undergraduate degree. He graduated from WTAMU with a degree in psychology and social work and went on to receive a Masters in Clinical Social Work from University of Texas Arlington when he was 58, after which he began his professional career as a MLSW social worker and therapist at Quest Psychiatric Hospital. Later after Quest closed, he continued to work at several other mental health facilities during his work as a therapist. An avid Dallas Cowboys fan and PGA tournaments enthusiast, Ted also appreciated literature and art of all kinds: the symphony, ballet, theatre and even beauty pageants and fashion shows, which he (willingly) watched with his wife. He loved Shakespeare and could quote long passages of dialogue from various Shakespearean plays. I was an English major, and I didn't even like Shakespeare. His favorite poet was Edgar Allen Poe and still, at 78 years old, he could recite The Raven, which he had to memorize in high school. His loftiest reading and memory work, however, was the Holy Bible. He was a Bible scholar and a man of God. He also derived great pleasure in our many camping trips to New Mexico where we created lifelong memories of our adventures in The Land of Enchantment. His best friend of many years, Bill Peterson, got Ted involved in the sport of fast draw. Ted was determined to excel in this newfound sport and after countless hours practicing in the garage, he became skilled enough to become a competition fast draw or quick draw artist. Bill and Ted worked with Neil Hess, Amarillo's premier dance teacher, who helped them choreograph fast draw performances complete with stagecoach and train robberies and gun fights. Their guns were real old west 6-guns, but they shot wax bullets, so no one was injured in these Wild West shows. They practiced many long hours for the fast draw competitions they entered, timing themselves on how long it took them to cock their gun, draw it out of the holster, and accurately hit the target from about eight feet away all in less than a second. These guys got so good that they made it to the World Fast Draw Association's annual competition in Tombstone, Arizona. The small- town boys did well, Ted winning and Bill. Ted's performing arts skills weren't limited to fast draw, thank goodness. He was also an excellent dancer, even becoming a ballroom dance teacher at Arthur Murray Dance Studio in Tucson and country western at Amarillo College. He couldn't read music, but he could sing in almost any style, mimicking Bing Crosby and Dean Martin to a T. He even sounded great when he comically sang opera in the style of the famous Luciano Pavarotti, complete with the handkerchief. He always said his deep baritone voice gave him a voice made for radio and a face to match. I agreed to the voice part. In appreciation for someone's help, Ted often said, "You're a gentleman and a scholar." Donna says she never quite understood why he made that comment, but, in retrospect, now knows that it was Ted himself who was the gentleman and the scholar…that and so much more. Addendum I have been blessed with not just one wonderful husband but two, the first being Jerry Prather from Delhi, Oklahoma, my high school sweetheart and husband of 19 years before he died of a heart attack at age 39. And now Ted, my second love of 29 years, has gone to join our loved ones who are already with the Lord. Ted wasn't a perfect man, but he was a very good man. He was strong-willed and so was I, and you know what often happens when two strong-willed people don't agree. That happened, yes it did. But the times of happiness, compatibility, and fun were far, far more. As far as to the moon and back. Although he wasn't the best to keep up with friendships and family, he valued every one in his life. Each of you are among those he loved and admired. Our life together began in hospice and ended with hospice. We moved from our life-time home in Amarillo to a smaller-sized home in Lubbock three years ago to be closer to family. He had suffered with chronic pain most of his life after his motor cycle accident and then about seven years ago he began the long, difficult journey of dementia. Ted's health continued to decline steadily, and eventually, he became a hospice patient himself. He died December 2, 2021. Ted and I enjoyed being a part of First Baptist Church of Amarillo. This was my second time being a member of this wonderful church. The first time was in 1963 with my husband, Jerry, on the first Sunday after we moved into our little apartment as newlyweds. Years later after Jerry's death, I found a new life with Ted by my side and together we returned to the church I loved. My adult life had come full circle…beginning and ending at First Baptist Church. Jerry is home, Ted is home, and I am home for now, and one fine day, I will be in my eternal home, joining both loves of my life, and many others who have gone before. Obituary Teddie Lafayette Lawler passed from this life on December 2, 2021, at the age of 80 in Lubbock, Texas. A memorial service was held on October 5, 2022, at Llano Cemetery in Amarillo, Texas where Ted's ashes will be interred. The service was be officiated by Robby Barrett of First Baptist Church and cremation was by Agape Funeral Chapel in Lubbock, Texas. Ted was born in Sayre, Oklahoma on July 7, 1941, to Velma "Steamboat" and Lillie Mae Lawler. He studied engineering at the University of Arizona, graduated from West Texas A&M with a degree in psychology and social work, and graduated from University of Texas Arlington with a master's degree in clinical social work. In Amarillo, he worked as a licensed master social worker and therapist and was a volunteer at Baptist St. Anthony's Hospice where he met his wife, Donna who was the Volunteer Coordinator at that time. He is survived by his wife, Donna; step-daughters, Nicole (Debby) and Neely (Shawn); daughter, Sherry; and son, Michael. He is also survived by nine granddaughters, three great-granddaughters, and five great-grandsons. He is preceded in death by his parents, Velma "Steamboat" and Lillie May; two brothers, James "JD" and Richard; two sisters, June and Beatrice; and grandson, Michael. The family would like to express gratitude to the staff members of Interim HealthCare and Hospice and Heritage Oaks Nursing and Rehabilitation Center of Lubbock, Texas. Donations and/or remembrances may be made to First Baptist Church in Amarillo, Interim Healthcare and Hospice in Lubbock, or an organization of choice.