Pastor George Smith was the longtime pastor of Bakersville Methodist Church, led 25 years of Easy Pedalers (Bike trips), another 18 of Summit Seekers (Mountain trek), and was active in the Tres Dias community; but mostly he was a Christ Centered Lighthouse. Where ever you saw him, you saw Christ shining out, whether it was playing basketball, or volleyball, or hockey, or even Football - he was competing, he was trying hard to be, and give his best to win. And through it all he shown - I got calls a couple of times, after a Sunday afternoon, to put me on the phone (a teen) so he could apologize "for trying too hard" for "being rough" - I was always touched that he'd respect me enough to try that hard.
One year my mastiff Jasper died. He was stupid, and big, and pulled his chain around a smaller tree - and slid the loop out until his feet didn't touch the ground. I came out to feed him and he was swaying in the air. I called my Dad, who was in Hartford, he wasn't coming home early. Called Mom who was working at Waring, and she said she would come home AFTER I called her to say it was taken care of... So I called Kevin playing at the smiths.... He said no way, they were going shopping, no way. So I swung him into the trailer of the lawn tractor, and took him up to the horse pen... It was gonna be a big hole. Pastor George came down the hill, and joined me. I hate digging in CT. He asked me if I wanted him to say a few words, I said no, he's a stupid dog. So we dug. In a hot summer day, out in the pasture we dug a big hole, and put Jasper to rest. Cuz that's what a Good man does, he shows up. We worked it together, I've told this story for years - no platitudes, just got to work with me. I've always treasured that.
Lastly for the last 20 years of our time in Bakersville, once I went to College when I came home at Christmas time, we'd all get together and use the gym at Ann Antolini, we'd play basketball for the first hour, and it always seems to be stacked - It was 'Keith and everyone younger than him, except for those athletes' they'd be on Georges team. Toward the end, even Kevin would be on the older guys team, we'd get creamed. But I tried, hard. And when it was over, all the VB players who'd been waiting, would jump up, and I'd form them up, like my league teams, like Claire and Jaimee's College teams... And George would take me aside and say, "You know Keith, we should lighten up on the spiking and the Jump serves, since we all don't play" And I'd glare at him, "I didn't get my but kicked for an hour, to play Volleyball at half speed" - Young team won ALOT of Volleyball.
Of all the sermons, of all the times watching his hand motions, or "dancing (stomping)" behind the pulpit, those last few years, those second services, me in the balcony singing, and him down there - it did seem like it was just us. I am so thankful, when my family came back from Minnesota, and I couldn't find work here, I finally did write a letter to him, thanking him, I was so sure, I'd be gone, and miss my chance to say goodbye, and thank you.
I treasure having played guitar with you, singing with you and being counted among Bakerville's BUMs. Came to Christ at a "Love is an open door" convention we all went to, Confirmed, Baptized, Married - but treated like a Son, and then a Brother.
Lastly George, when you were handing out McDonalds money on the bike trip $4 wasn't enough and when playing street hockey, if you yelled "Brother George" he'd pass it, even if you weren't on his team.
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