Thanks, Paul!

Paul Harvey died a week ago. His death marked the passing of an old friend. Forty-five years ago, when I was a student at Northwestern State College in Natchitoches, Louisiana, Paul Harvey was a part of my daily routine. Each day after lunch, my roommate, Mickey Thompson, and I would go by Roy Corley’s room, and together we would listen to Paul Harvey’s news broadcast. We didn’t listen for any hard news. We listened to hear his stories, his comments, and his humor.

Paul Harvey picked up on small items in the news, recycled old jokes, and had a way of making everything interesting. He related a report in the Utica, New York, Observer-Dispatch. Burglars in suburban Marcy were carrying the TV set from the house down the driveway when the next-door neighbor called out: “Hey, are you going to fix her television set?” The burglars called back, “Yes.” And the neighbor asked, “Mine needs fixing, could you take it, too?” And the burglars said, “Be glad to.” And they did.

He touched on domestic tension. He read a classified ad that appeared in the Dover, Ohio, newspaper: “Husband says either he or puppies must go. Puppies are playful and cute. Husband is grouchy and unsympathetic. Your choice free. Signed: Mrs. Jim Cook.”

He dealt with the tendency of all of us to make excuses—many of which do not pass muster. He told of a presentation of excuses, which parents had written to teachers on behalf of their kids one year. One said: “My son is under doctor’s care and should not stay in school this afternoon; please execute him.” Another said: “Please excuse Blanche from physical education for a few days. She fell from a tree and misplaced her hip.” And another said: “Pleas exkuse John from being absent October 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33.” It was signed, “Cincerely.”

One day Paul Harvey told about a young man who received a traffic ticket. Residents of one neighborhood called the police station and reported that a car had been seen going backward through their neighborhood for the last 30 minutes. Police investigated. They found the car, and, sure enough, it was still going backward down the street. Police stopped the vehicle and asked the young driver what on earth he was doing. He explained that his father had allowed him to take the car, but that he was not to drive over 10 miles. When he examined the odometer, he discovered that he had driven a good many miles more than that and he was trying to back the miles off the odometer before heading home.

I must confess that I’ve wanted to back a few miles off sometimes. I’ve wanted to turn the clock backward and try again. We can’t do that, of course, but we can experience the forgiveness and grace of God. I am grateful for one keen observer of life named Paul Harvey who helped me learn some things I would have otherwise missed.