Name

Proverbs 22:1 A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.

What’s in a name?  We’ve all heard that question a time or two.  Merriam Webster defines name as : a word or phrase that constitutes the distinctive designation of a person or thing.  That’s a lot to swallow.  The watered down, first grade teacher version would be: it’s what people call you.  

What did people call Robert Alan Parrish?

When he was younger, I was told he was called Bobby.  The quintessential middle child, he had an older brother Joe and the baby, Charlie.  They say Bobby was quiet and a little bit sneaky (hiding cigarettes in the graveyard and bolstering up a bed he and his little brother had broken after some horseplay, carving the knotholes out in his pine bed frame, and shooting BB’s that ricocheted only to land square in his eyeball) and a little bit lucky, too, considering that the BB in his eyeball popped itself out one day so he didn’t have to tell his Dad what had happened, and surviving being hit by a telephone truck while riding his bike.  Thankfully Bobby’s oldest brother was able to revive him, and he lay in traction for some time in a hospital bed after that.  That Bobby- his mother, Mie, earned a few gray hairs from him, I’m sure.  Years ago, at a family reunion, Mie told me that Bobby was a sweet one, a good boy, and he loved his mama, too.  And I also heard that he would answer-no come running – to Joebobchar, a muddled combination of all three of her boys’ names, when his mama yelled it.  They all knew to answer to Joebobchar, especially that middle one, Bobby.  

When he got a little older, he was Bob.  Bye, bye, “BY” Just Bob. That was him.  He was a Bob if God ever made one.  And what about Bob? Bob was a “Steady Eddy.”  His cage never rattled, his pace never quick, with a contagious from the belly chuckle, his mouth-open grin…that was Bob.  You could count on Bob.  He was the quiet one in the room, but his presence was not.  A man of routine and self discipline, deep faith, and even deeper love, that was Bob.  He avoided conflict and boat rocking, and was content being wrong even if he really was right, just to keep the traffic flowing.  Bob was peace.  Easy.  Actually, he even said that very word often, “Easy,” when someone was taking a harsh tone with someone else, when the glass of wine was filled too much, when one was slinging the fishing rod a little too close to his ears.  Blueberries and bran in the morning, cup of yogurt at night.  Predictable in the best way, but up for a fun time anytime.  Ole Bob.  

And then there was Dr. Parrish.  The gentle dentist.  He was quiet, but when he did talk, none of the patients could understand him.  I kid, I kid.  That low, deep voice would soothe many as they were riddled with nerves about the dental work they were about to endure.  I know from personal experience that his injections didn’t hurt- and I mean it- he could give a shot like no other.  I’ve heard many others say the same.  But Dr. Parrish wasn’t just a dentist- he became a friend to many- Dr. Bob as they’d call him.  When you really stop to think about it, dentistry is quite an intimate field.  There aren’t many people you or I let in our personal space, let alone put their hands in our mouth!  (And as Alan pointed out, not many men would let you gaze at their nostrils for minutes on end and be comfortable with it- like a dentist does.)    But with him, people didn’t seem to mind all that personal space business so much, as his presence put them at ease.  Emerging from behind the beautiful 70s jungle mural behind the bubbling fountain his office manager had spray painted black, and fake ficus that had just a little bit of tooth dust on them, he would pad into the room in those Tommy Bahama loafers of his.  He would ease up next to that patient in the chair and ask how he was, how his mama and them was, and tell him how sorry he was about his dog that he knew had been put down since the last visit.  Dr. Bob knew the patient’s name.  He made sure of it- but not just the name, all about him, too.  He would file all of that information in the Rolodex of his mind, and when a need arose, he knew a patient that could help. Need a plumber?  He had a guy.  That Jeep Wrangler he drove back and forth to work? Wrangled that purchase from a patient of his.  Find out you worked at the tire store?  He was going to use you when he needed tires, and then he’d ask you for a discount too.  Not only did the patients love him, his staff did, too.  Especially that office manager of his- Bobbie.  We’ll get to her in a minute.  He was a compassionate and kind boss, who believed in early mornings, even though that belief wasn’t embraced by all the girls at work.  He valued them and their families, who, if they weren’t already (like Dee, Robin, and Nola), became his family.  When Dr. Parrish was forced to retire due to his Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis diagnosis, he didn’t like it one bit– but the patients and staff even more so.  The practice he worked so hard for could never be replicated, even with the girls still there, because it wouldn’t have him. Dr. Parrish.

Then there’s the names of Boba, Chief, Fozzie Bear- Bobbie’s other half.  What a husband he was!  Wherever Bobbie was, there was Bob. The Bobbsie Twins, as I called them.  He adored her and you could tell by the way he treated her.  Actions do speak louder than words.  He didn’t need to profess his unending adoration for her with his words because the whole world knew it with his deeds.  They weren’t always grandiose, but the everyday ones…the respect he had for her, the way he thought about her first in all his decisions, the way he would make her happy, the way he would let her go first out of the door, the way he would wash the dishes after she cooked, the way he would give her “a squirt” of coffee.  The way he would defer to her, “Ask Bobbie,” in simple decisions and big ones, too.  The only time I think that really drove her crazy was when it was time to decide where to eat dinner.  If you are from around here, you’d see them on Tuesdays at Mikatas, Thursdays at the Catch- he courted her until he couldn’t any more.  In the later years, he showered her with gifts from Amazon, his favorite store.  She’d be surprised by all the delights that would show- a Pandora bracelet charm or two, an Air Fryer, cookbooks, and a beautiful plastic owl for the mailbox.  Her Fozzie Bear loved her big, as she did him.  They were the Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton of Albany, Georgia.  Best friends.  Bob and Bobbie.

There’s Dad, probably his most favorite name of all.  Father to Robert and Alan, the man loved them with his whole heart.  That’s the thing about him.  If he loved you, he loved you all the way…chili, mustard, AND onions.  Those boys of his.  He tried to tame them, God love him.  They were wildcats, who just now seem to be settling down, I think.  Dad loved them no matter what they did.  Like that time Robert…just kidding, wouldn’t do that to him.  But when Alan– here’s my chance– I’m just kidding.  He cooks too well for me to mess things up on that end.  See that’s the thing, and I know this now as a parent myself– you’ve got to let grace be the first thing when you love– and Daddy Bob did that well.  The boys knew when he wasn’t happy about something, but he didn’t dredge it up and remind them of it once it had passed.  He really did forgive and forgive and forgive some more…and although maybe he didn’t forget, the rest of us thought he had.  That was the thing about him– he was a forgiving Daddy. Hmmm.  I think that might preach…

And since we are on the name of Dad, let’s not forget Big Daddy, which really might be the mostest favoritest name he was called.  Big Daddy always had a lap to lend, a chest to sleep on, the lure of ice cream on his lips…he loved his grandchildren.  The Lord saw fit to bless him with six of them in five years.  Yes.  I know.  God bless us daughter in laws.  

Trey, Biz, Landon, Cannon, Grant, and Wilkes were lucky to have Big Daddy as theirs.  Not many people can say they had a granddaddy like him.  And to get an idea of how fun he was, I’d like to present this little clip for you from his two granddaughters…

Big Daddy. Though retired, still letting people gaze into his nostrils…

So what’s in a name?  

A good name is more desirable than great riches, to be esteemed is better than silver and gold.  

Bob Parrish.  Now that’s a good name.