He Kept On Keeping On—A Tribute To My Grandfather
By Jonathan Teitloff, Anderson, SC
Note: The writer is in the eleventh grade, a member of Boulevard Baptist Church, and grandson of my Christian ethics classmate and friend. His grandmother Mary served on the Christian Life Commission of the SBC during Foy Valentine’s tenure.
This morning my mother carefully handed me the cassettes she had retrieved from my grandmother’s house. “This is me doing the children’s sermon,” she said, passing the tape to me. “This one is Debbie and me reading the Scripture.” She placed several more on the countertop. “This one,” she said, holding up a particular tape, “is what Mimi called a very sacred one. It’s Eddie singing, ‘O Holy Night.’ She said to make sure nothing happens to it.” Delicately I picked through the old tapes, searching for labels that grabbed my attention. I chose one that read 6-22-80. Inserting it into my stereo, I anticipated the shaky baritone of a man ridden with Parkinson’s disease, Instead, a strangely unfamiliar, rich and persuasive tone flowed from the speakers. I hardly knew my grandfather, but I do know this much: as a Baptist minister, he affected many people and as a role model, he affects me even now. For these reasons, he is my favorite Baptist.
He was born Pinckney Edward Rickenbaker, Jr., on June 8, 1935, in Columbia, South Carolina. After studying at four different colleges, he graduated from Baylor University in 1957, then attended Southwestern Seminary to earn his Master of Divinity and Th.D. with a major in Christian Ethics. He first served at First Baptist inDenmark, South Carolina, then was appointed to the Home Mission Board (now North American Mission Board) in Atlanta, Georgia, as an associate in the personnel department. After this, he returned to Columbiaas pastor of Kathwood Baptist Church. During his ministry there he made history by ordaining one of the first women in the Southern Baptist Convention. Eventually, he made his way to Belton, South Carolina, and settled down as pastor at First Baptist. As a minister, my grandfather was more than a speaker. He sometimes broke into song in the middle of a sermon, or played his trumpet during the service.
Unfortunately, his career was to end earlier than he would have liked. In the winter of 1983, at the age of 48, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. He is remembered for advising his congregation to “keep on keeping on,” which is just what he did. Unwilling to leave the work he loved, he did not retire until 1987. By then, his condition had significantly worsened. I was born in the following February; for the next fourteen years, as I developed, he deteriorated. I never heard my grandfather speak when it was not murmurs or incoherent phrases, and I never saw him walk with steady footing. As a result, I never had a strong relationship with him.
Eddie Rickenbaker died on March 24, 2002. At the memorial service, I heard a lot about my grandfather. By the end of the service, I was crying, not because I had lost someone I knew well, but because I had lost someone I never had the chance to know at all. It is now clear to me that my grandfather affected many people. As a minister he impressed everyone he met, and not only those in the small congregation at First Baptist. The Anderson Independent Mail sponsored a survey during his ministry in which he was selected as one of the top ten most influential religious leaders in the Anderson area. He was also selected again in 1993, six years after his retirement. All over South Carolina, it is not heard to find people who have been acquainted with him at one point. This is because my grandfather led a very active Baptist life. He served as chairman of the Christian Life and Public Affairs Committee of the South Carolina Baptist Convention, as moderator of the Saluda Baptist Association, on the Anderson College Board of Trustees, and on the North American Mission Board of Directors. He was also a very progressive man in the church, who enjoyed being on the cutting edge of issues such as race and gender. His service to the local and greater Baptist community, as well as his dedication to interpreting the ways of God, make him the kind of man I admire. In the words of my grandmother, Mary Rickenbaker, “Even after he was sick, he was such an inspiration because he ‘kept on keeping on.’ He tried so hard to continue his participation in church and community activities.”
Because my grandfather was a minister, I feel that being a Baptist is part of my heritage. There is a direct relationship between my eagerness to serve the church and the legacy of my grandfather. This transcends any genetic traits he gave me, because it encourages me to be an active church member for the rest of my life. Even though his disability handicapped our relationship while he was living, it has not prevented me from learning his beliefs and values through what he left behind. The fact that my grandfather’s actions before his medical diagnosis have affected the outcome of my life after his death stand as true testament to the reason why this man is my favorite Baptist.
Tonight, I sit down to read a sermon my mother just gave me. I do not have the tape for it; it is a typed version of the original manuscript. It is entitled, “Let Me See Your Slides.” In it, my grandfather wonders what Heaven will be like, and using the analogy of theologian Henry Nouen, compares it to returning from a long trip. “Everything that we experience on this ‘trip’ is predicated on another world, and another life,” the sermon reads, “And one day we will reach the other side and when we do, we will hear a friendly voice say, ‘Hi, Eddie! Welcome home. How was your trip? Let me see your slides.” My one wish for my life is that when I show my slides to God, they will depict a life as touching, faithful, and dedicated as was my grandfather’s life.
