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According To The Bible, Tommy Hicks is in heaven with Jesus. Let's be very clear about this. All that is required to go to heaven is a belief in the resurrection of Jesus as the Jewish messiah, the long awaited and anointed one, the savior of the world. Belief, not works. Faith, not works, Acceptance of Jesus Christ as the Christ, the savior of the world, that is all that is required to go to heaven. Three times, once in the Jewish section of the Bible, what Christians call the Old Testament and twice in the New Testament, it says, "All who call upon the name of the Lord, will be saved." Now, if you think Tommy Hicks never called upon the name of the Lord, you don't know Tommy Hicks. He called on everybody he thought would help, but he certainly called on the name of the Lord. His faith in Jesus was rock solid and we prayed together a lot.
So he is in heaven with Jesus. I hope we have made that abundantly clear. But he is not in heaven with Dean Smith. Tommy did not like Dean Smith. He often said he would root for any team playing Carolina, even if it was the Russians. So here's something you need to know about heaven. Dean Smith and Tommy Hicks are in different parts of heaven. They never have to see each other. If Tommy did happen to run into Dean Smith, it would no longer be heaven for Tommy.
His mother, Mary Jane, a great woman in her own right, needlepointed him some wisdom to hang on his wall. Part of it reads, "The best you ever did is who you are." I hope all of you can take that to heart on this tough and for many of us sad occasion. "The best part of you is who you are."
When I was his employee in the early 1990's part of my job was to make coffee in the winter time. Nobody ever was cold more than Big Man Tommy Hicks. We got him out of his car on mornings when the cold wind blew between Western Auto and the Shopper office. We rolled into the office on those cold, cold mornings; and Tommy said, "Jobe, pour that first cup of coffee on my feet."
He did have a heater at his desk, so he did not suffer for long. And speaking of suffering, we are told that pain is unavoidable, but suffering is optional. Nobody proved that with more style and grace than Tommy Hicks. He faced countless physical and emotional challenges with wit and joy and fun and an unquenchable spirit.
He once scooped the dog food up for Blackie One and before pouring it into Blackie One's dish, he said, "Watch this, Jobe," and as soon as the food hit the dish, he ordered, "You eat that food, Blackie. You eat that food." And of course, his highly trained dog complied perfectly. He ate that food. Hicks also thought himself clever that he had three dogs named Blackie One, Blackie Two, and Blackie Three.
It's probably no secret to any of you that Tommy was the writer behind Taxi Talk, although he attributed it to Billy Ray, and Rasslin' Talk by Johnny Carson, and Mike Nanney's recipe of the week. Among my favorite Billy Ray phrases was "rest assured." No matter what trouble his customers would face, Billy Ray would always tell them to "rest assured," that his many skills as a taxi driver would come to their aid.
I realize these words are deeply personal. All of us experienced a different Tommy Hicks, so I need to tell you one of the strangest aspects of my deep love for him and admiration for him. I often dreamed about his walking again. This is just so personal, but I think there must have been something in me that knew a day was coming when Tommy would be able to walk again; and of course, that day is today. No matter what else heaven may be, it is a place where Tommy Hicks can walk into the Smith's Drug Store of heaven or the Shake Shop of heaven and order a hot fudge sundae. And in heaven, of course, nobody gains weight from eating a hot fudge sundae.
So I would ask you today, out of that preacher energy that lives and moves in me, what in your life needs to learn to walk again? How have you been confined to an emotional or addictive wheelchair; and are you willing to give it up and walk again? I won't belabor the point. We all roll along in some kind of wheelchair. We can all stand to learn new ways of walking.
Of course, I would be remiss if I failed to mention some of the things he was famous for, things like his being president of the Class of 1972, East Rutherford High School, his relationship with the East Rutherford High School basketball program. His deep admiration for and friendships with Connie Mac Hamrick, Dan Beason, Dan Philbeck, Keith Harrill and the 1971-72 Cavaliers who won the state championship. Because of his involvement with that program and many other contributions to East athletics, he is in the East Rutherford Athletic Hall of Fame. He raised thousands of dollars for the Muscular Dystrophy Association and other good causes that benefited literally thousands of people in Rutherford County. He was a great encouragement to children and young people. Any budding young scholar or athlete in his presence felt that quirky sense of humor and his unlimited sense of possibility.
He was a nut for sports before his diagnosis with muscular dystrophy. While some of us have the misfortune of not understanding his passion for athletic prowess, I found he loved anything that smacked of excellence. He was a student of politics and music, too. His unmitigated admiration for the Beatles falls into that category. He was also an unapologetic fan of Muhammed Ali.
He was as naturally funny as anybody. He had the comedic timing and one-liner genius of any professional comedian. This story may best illustrate his genius for being funny. Ricky Green sat in front of him in Madame Powell's French class. She often asked us to translate sentences. When she would call on Ricky, Hicks would say just loudly enough for Ricky to hear it, "Barber massages the head." Ricky, who had the nickname Reece, would ignore Tommy and sometimes actually translate the sentence or just admit that, like the rest of us, he had no idea what the translation was. But just once, Tommy carried the day. Madame Powell called on Reece for a translation. Just behind his head he could hear Tommy saying, "This is it, Reece. Barber massages the head. Say it, Reece. Say it. Barber massages the head," and Reece said it. Madame Powell exploded, as she had a tendency to do, and may have even ordered him to the office to face Mr. Morris. I'm not sure Reece ever forgave Tommy for putting him in that position, but for the 40-plus years I have repeated that story, it gives me four or five good belly laughs every time I think about it. Barber massages the head. Say it, Reece. Say it.
And then there is that part of his life that he made me promise not to talk about. Like the rest of us, this hero of almost immeasurable strength and determination, had a few bad habits, but even those he practiced with unapologetic enthusiasm and zeal. The founder of the Protestant reformation, Martin Luther, once surveyed the impossible task of Christian perfection and said if you must sin, sin boldly. Tommy Hicks was not only a hearer of the great Luther's words, he was a doer as well. And so what? Maybe he disappointed a few people who were dear to him, but he certainly meant no harm. Maybe he played a little wilder than he should have, but William Blake warned us 200 years ago that the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
He loved his family and all of you know who you are. It is a rare and precious jewel to be counted as family to Big Man Tommy Hicks.
And speaking of his extended, adopted family, Hicks had a young woman live with him briefly as a roommate. They got along pretty well, but she absolutely refused to wash her dishes. In order to express his displeasure with this behavior, he gathered her dirty dishes into his lap, rolled his wheelchair into her bedroom and put the dishes in her bed. I'm not sure how this affected her behavior, but she's here today. You can ask her after the service.
Hicks's word to me was always, "You sumpin, ain't you, Jobie?" and I believe I was to him. Sumpin, for those you who don't speak Hicks, is "something," as in "something special," "something different," "something worthy of the air we breathe and the ground we stand on." He felt that for me; and I'm sure he felt it for so many of you in this room today. Saturday afternoon, September 9, Tim Luckadoo and his wife, Deb, and Dan Philbeck gathered with Tommy's sisters, Linda and Sissy, and Tommy's faithful sidekick, Johnny Carson, to commiserate with Big Man Tommy Hicks on his most recent broken bones and illness. As I looked around that room, I couldn't help but wonder how lucky and blessed and fortunate and kissed by the angels we all were to have known Tommy Hicks. It was striking to me then; and I'm sure it is striking to all of you here today. The publisher, editor, chief ad salesman and lord high proprietor of the Amazin' Shopper was himself amazin, amazin, amazin. He told me when he was my boss that he expected me to call him Big Man at least seven times every day. It is the tiniest example of his grade A, bizarre sense of humor, so let me conclude these far too inadequate words by complying with my orders from headquarters. Big man, big man, big man, big man, big man, big man, big man. And one more time, can we all say it just once together? "Big man" on three, one two three, Big Man.
