"Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes? " *
Don touched many lives in a positive caring way. I got to know him when I was in the 10th grade at the old South Side, and we ended up at the same lunch table. He had a circle of friends that included Carrel Turner and Ronnie Owens, and he seemed to know just about everybody, which was helpful, because I was an A.B. Hill kid who went to South Side in the 9th grade and knew very few of the legions of Longview students who were new to my school. It wasn't long before I was hanging out with Don and his crowd. He and Carrel were impressed that I was on the Triple S staff, and I was pleased that I could help them also get on the school newspaper roster. We had a lot in common--Don loved movies and books and writing and music; and we both had serious crushes on the British actress Julie Christie (there were numerous Scrapper girls that we swooned over, but they deserve their privacy and will not be identified here). From that point on, he was just always there, one way or another. We went through college together, wrote one another while I was in the Air Force, and resumed our companionship when I returned to Memphis for grad school. Don was best man at my wedding, and he and my wife Jerry quickly hit it off well. Jerry is an avid movie fan, too and she would pore over Don's impressive library of VHS movie tapes. When I moved to Little Rock, we continued to stay in touch; and, as often happens with good friends, we might go for a while not seeing or talking to one another, but then could always pick up right where we left off.
On our return trips to visit family in Memphis, we always made sure to get together with him. Technology enhanced the friendship; I have a long history of text messages with him that I treasure more than ever now.
Don was shy about going to Scrapper reunions, but we finally got him to go in 2014; and he enjoyed it immensely, as he did also in 2019. He regaled us with stories of his teaching experiences at Melrose. During his last year there, they dedicated the annual to him; and he was the first white person to ever receive that recognition from Melrose. He was a big college football fan and would send me encouraging texts when the Arkansas Razorbacks were up against those tough SEC teams. My wife was a "military brat," going to 13 different schools while living in 5 different cities and 2 different countries through the end of her senior year in high school; and she found it fascinating and even a little quaint that there were so many of us who dearly loved our school and our neighborhood. It was something totally alien to her, but very appealing. She marveled at how Don could remember all of those things from so far back. We did not, of course, discuss our mutual lust for Julie Christie with her.
"Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?" *
It was Don who called me in January of 1977 to tell me that Carrel Turner had died, adding a slim ray of hope that the news had not been officially confirmed yet, but we both knew it was true. It was Don who called me in the winter of 1985 to tell me that Ronnie Owen had lost his life in an apparent homicide that was the result of being in the wrong place in the wrong time. Don was the human archive of all of the South Memphis things that touched my life, and ultimately just about everything else, too. Only now does it occur to me that he had the ability to listen and retain without offering "advice" or registering disagreement. I have heard several women from our class use the same exact words, "You could tell him ANYTHING," they said. And they did. Perhaps it was his innate skill as a writer that made him an observer and a collector of human thoughts and emotions. Your secrets were safe with him, and he could immediately dial up the funny things you did 30, 40, 50 years ago. It is rare to find someone who can do that. Don had a wide social network and obviously enjoyed his retirement years. He was also very pleased at becoming closer to his brother, John, and frequently mentioned how much that meant to him.
"And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it's time for them to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?" *
For the 55th reunion Don and I stayed at the Holiday Inn at the University of Memphis (side note: it's my go-to place when I go to the Bluff City; it's centrally located, quiet, safe; and the food is to die for, OMG! It's run by students getting a degree in hospitality, so when you're chowing down on something from the buffet line, you're probably eating someone's homework.). I noticed that Don seemed a little frail then and sometimes had to pause between thoughts before speaking again, but it was not a big deal. Hell, we're all getting older. Right before Thanksgiving of 2021 he texted that he would be resuming his annual trip to see his sister, and wanted to see us like we always did for many years. He also mentioned that he was worried that he was in the early stages of Parkinson's Disease, but had not consulted a physician. When we went to dinner with him, he was generally OK, but had some tremors. On New Year's Eve, he texted me that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's. I called him a few days later, worried that he might be alone and fearful. It was a great conversation, and the info that both of us had about the disease gave us just a wee bit of encouragement. Dang, wish it HAD been Parkinson's. During the winter storms of 2022 his power went off, and he was alone in the cold and dark, subject to panic and paranoia. He texted me that he was being moved to Little Rock so that his sister could care for him and get him the medical treatment that he needed. His surgery was Valentine's Day, and he never came back home. I went to see him 5 times, once pre-surgery when he was totally Z'd out, and in each of the other visits there were flashes of the old Don, moments of emotional connection. "I love you both," he told Jerry and me.
When I got Bobbye's call, I realized that I was the last one left from our "Gang of Four." I had other close friends from the A.B. Hill crowd, but those three guys were the core of my socialization. From years of attending Scrapper reunions as well as from connections on social media, I have come to realize that I had a LOT of interesting classmates. I have chatted with or messaged many of you and thought "Why wasn't I closer to this person? Why didn't we hang around? Why did I overlook this guy (or gal)?" I think the answer is that in those high school years most of us experience "teen angst." We desperately want to fit in, to find a peer group that is a bulwark against innate insecurity. Once we get settled into a groove, we just stay there, 'cause it's comfortable and we already have enough challenges in our lives to deal with. I can truthfully say that I love each and every one of you. Maybe we didn't pal around together, maybe we barely spoke, maybe this, maybe that. It doesn't matter. We are family. We are Scrappers. Forever.
Rest in peace: Carrel Turner, 1946-1977; Ronnie Owen, 1946-1985; Don Presley, 1946-2022. I keep looking over my body for a stamp that has an expiration date (..."Best Used By 20XX..."), but until then I will keep on, learning and loving and celebrating and cherishing the life and friends that I have been blessed to have. Peace to you...each and every one.
"...when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no attention to the garish sun." **
* "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?," written by Sandy Denny and sung by Judy Collins
** "Romeo and Juliet," Act III, Scene II, written by William Shakespeare
It was good to see that Don's name, and others, were added to the ' In Memory ' section. My brother Don passed away in April of 2022 - wow, can't believe it's been over two years. Don and I were not close during our early years, including high school. During those years, we simply had other interests, and that's just the way it was. But, as time passed, we eventually got very close, and we both cherish the last 20-25:years of his life. We often talked about how we regretted not being close during our high school years, but boy, later on we really made up for that lost time. It took me some time, for whatever reason ( probably immaturity on my part), to realize what a special person was. I miss him dearly.
I remember Don as being shy and quite. I sat behind him in algebra. I too was very shy. I wanted to speak to him but I didn't seem to get the chance. I too liked the things that he did. It saddens me that we never were able to become friends. I'm very jealous of all of you who tell about your friendships with him. I feel that I really missed out. Judy Jackson
I remember Don as being shy and quite. I sat behind him in algebra. I too was very shy. I wanted to speak to him but I didn't seem to get the chance. I too liked the things that he did. It saddens me that we never were able to become friends. I'm very jealous of all of you who tell about your friendships with him. I feel that I really missed out. Judy Jackson
Ronald Cartwright
Michael Cobb posted a message on Don Presley's Profile. New comment added.
Apr 22, 2022 at 1:26 pm
Posted on: Apr 21, 2022 at 2:38 pm
ONE SHINING LIGHT
"Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes? " *
Don touched many lives in a positive caring way. I got to know him when I was in the 10th grade at the old South Side, and we ended up at the same lunch table. He had a circle of friends that included Carrel Turner and Ronnie Owens, and he seemed to know just about everybody, which was helpful, because I was an A.B. Hill kid who went to South Side in the 9th grade and knew very few of the legions of Longview students who were new to my school. It wasn't long before I was hanging out with Don and his crowd. He and Carrel were impressed that I was on the Triple S staff, and I was pleased that I could help them also get on the school newspaper roster. We had a lot in common--Don loved movies and books and writing and music; and we both had serious crushes on the British actress Julie Christie (there were numerous Scrapper girls that we swooned over, but they deserve their privacy and will not be identified here). From that point on, he was just always there, one way or another. We went through college together, wrote one another while I was in the Air Force, and resumed our companionship when I returned to Memphis for grad school. Don was best man at my wedding, and he and my wife Jerry quickly hit it off well. Jerry is an avid movie fan, too and she would pore over Don's impressive library of VHS movie tapes. When I moved to Little Rock, we continued to stay in touch; and, as often happens with good friends, we might go for a while not seeing or talking to one another, but then could always pick up right where we left off.
On our return trips to visit family in Memphis, we always made sure to get together with him. Technology enhanced the friendship; I have a long history of text messages with him that I treasure more than ever now.
Don was shy about going to Scrapper reunions, but we finally got him to go in 2014; and he enjoyed it immensely, as he did also in 2019. He regaled us with stories of his teaching experiences at Melrose. During his last year there, they dedicated the annual to him; and he was the first white person to ever receive that recognition from Melrose. He was a big college football fan and would send me encouraging texts when the Arkansas Razorbacks were up against those tough SEC teams. My wife was a "military brat," going to 13 different schools while living in 5 different cities and 2 different countries through the end of her senior year in high school; and she found it fascinating and even a little quaint that there were so many of us who dearly loved our school and our neighborhood. It was something totally alien to her, but very appealing. She marveled at how Don could remember all of those things from so far back. We did not, of course, discuss our mutual lust for Julie Christie with her.
"Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?" *
It was Don who called me in January of 1977 to tell me that Carrel Turner had died, adding a slim ray of hope that the news had not been officially confirmed yet, but we both knew it was true. It was Don who called me in the winter of 1985 to tell me that Ronnie Owen had lost his life in an apparent homicide that was the result of being in the wrong place in the wrong time. Don was the human archive of all of the South Memphis things that touched my life, and ultimately just about everything else, too. Only now does it occur to me that he had the ability to listen and retain without offering "advice" or registering disagreement. I have heard several women from our class use the same exact words, "You could tell him ANYTHING," they said. And they did. Perhaps it was his innate skill as a writer that made him an observer and a collector of human thoughts and emotions. Your secrets were safe with him, and he could immediately dial up the funny things you did 30, 40, 50 years ago. It is rare to find someone who can do that. Don had a wide social network and obviously enjoyed his retirement years. He was also very pleased at becoming closer to his brother, John, and frequently mentioned how much that meant to him.
"And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it's time for them to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?" *
For the 55th reunion Don and I stayed at the Holiday Inn at the University of Memphis (side note: it's my go-to place when I go to the Bluff City; it's centrally located, quiet, safe; and the food is to die for, OMG! It's run by students getting a degree in hospitality, so when you're chowing down on something from the buffet line, you're probably eating someone's homework.). I noticed that Don seemed a little frail then and sometimes had to pause between thoughts before speaking again, but it was not a big deal. Hell, we're all getting older. Right before Thanksgiving of 2021 he texted that he would be resuming his annual trip to see his sister, and wanted to see us like we always did for many years. He also mentioned that he was worried that he was in the early stages of Parkinson's Disease, but had not consulted a physician. When we went to dinner with him, he was generally OK, but had some tremors. On New Year's Eve, he texted me that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's. I called him a few days later, worried that he might be alone and fearful. It was a great conversation, and the info that both of us had about the disease gave us just a wee bit of encouragement. Dang, wish it HAD been Parkinson's. During the winter storms of 2022 his power went off, and he was alone in the cold and dark, subject to panic and paranoia. He texted me that he was being moved to Little Rock so that his sister could care for him and get him the medical treatment that he needed. His surgery was Valentine's Day, and he never came back home. I went to see him 5 times, once pre-surgery when he was totally Z'd out, and in each of the other visits there were flashes of the old Don, moments of emotional connection. "I love you both," he told Jerry and me.
When I got Bobbye's call, I realized that I was the last one left from our "Gang of Four." I had other close friends from the A.B. Hill crowd, but those three guys were the core of my socialization. From years of attending Scrapper reunions as well as from connections on social media, I have come to realize that I had a LOT of interesting classmates. I have chatted with or messaged many of you and thought "Why wasn't I closer to this person? Why didn't we hang around? Why did I overlook this guy (or gal)?" I think the answer is that in those high school years most of us experience "teen angst." We desperately want to fit in, to find a peer group that is a bulwark against innate insecurity. Once we get settled into a groove, we just stay there, 'cause it's comfortable and we already have enough challenges in our lives to deal with. I can truthfully say that I love each and every one of you. Maybe we didn't pal around together, maybe we barely spoke, maybe this, maybe that. It doesn't matter. We are family. We are Scrappers. Forever.
Rest in peace: Carrel Turner, 1946-1977; Ronnie Owen, 1946-1985; Don Presley, 1946-2022. I keep looking over my body for a stamp that has an expiration date (..."Best Used By 20XX..."), but until then I will keep on, learning and loving and celebrating and cherishing the life and friends that I have been blessed to have. Peace to you...each and every one.
"...when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no attention to the garish sun." **
* "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?," written by Sandy Denny and sung by Judy Collins
** "Romeo and Juliet," Act III, Scene II, written by William Shakespeare
John Presley
It was good to see that Don's name, and others, were added to the ' In Memory ' section.My brother Don passed away in April of 2022 - wow, can't believe it's been over two years. Don and I were not close during our early years, including high school. During those years, we simply had other interests, and that's just the way it was.
But, as time passed, we eventually
got very close, and we both cherish the last 20-25:years of his life. We often talked about how we regretted not being close during our high school years, but boy, later on we really made up for that lost time. It took me some time, for whatever reason ( probably immaturity on my part), to realize what a special person was. I miss him dearly.
Judy Jackson
I remember Don as being shy and quite. I sat behind him in algebra. I too was very shy. I wanted to speak to him but I didn't seem to get the chance. I too liked the things that he did. It saddens me that we never were able to become friends. I'm very jealous of all of you who tell about your friendships with him. I feel that I really missed out. Judy JacksonJudy Jackson
I remember Don as being shy and quite. I sat behind him in algebra. I too was very shy. I wanted to speak to him but I didn't seem to get the chance. I too liked the things that he did. It saddens me that we never were able to become friends. I'm very jealous of all of you who tell about your friendships with him. I feel that I really missed out. Judy Jackson