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I’ve never met my biological father. I know his name, but I’ve never met him, never even seen a photo and know nothing about him. I once made a half-hearted attempt to find him up on Facebook, but gave up when I realized I didn’t care to talk with the person who mistreated my mom all those years ago.
I had three stepfathers, and one of them was a really good guy, but I’ve never called anyone “Dad.” Perhaps that’s why over the years I have subconsciously developed strong bonds with men old enough to be my father, hoping to learn from them what I didn’t get educated on growing up.
Hugh Williamson is one of those men. And while I know he’s in a better place today, attending his funeral Thursday still cut out a piece of my heart.
I first met Hugh more than a decade ago, when he wrote a letter to the editor pointing out something that had been incorrect in the Cherokee Scout. I researched it, discovered he was right, then quickly published a correction and updated our website. He wrote me back to say he appreciated how we handled the situation with integrity.
Some time later, I decided to start a Public Advisory Board. The idea was to find a diverse group of a half-dozen intelligent, open-minded local residents to offer continual feedback to the newspaper.
When I solicited resumes for the volunteer board, Hugh’s was one of the first that arrived. A professor with a doctorate, and a very good writer in his own right, he seemed perfect for it. And he was, joining three other great people to form the core of that board for several years until we tried something new.
In my early years in journalism, it was possible to debate politics without it leading to personal attacks. In Hugh, I again found someone I could talk to without fear that he would call me an idiot or think less of me. Instead, we just got together and talked about anything and everything, and in doing so found out that the member of the Cherokee County Republican Party Executive Board and the so-called liberal newspaper publisher actually had an incredible amount of common ground.
We both believe strongly in serving God first, our family second, and our country and community third. We believe compassion and kindness is the cure to anger and frustration. We believe that while the government has a role to play, what our life becomes ultimately is up to the individual. Some of that may sound a bit familiar, as Hugh wrote a column about constitutional issues for several years in the Scout.
Hugh’s tall stature and booming voice could be intimidating to some people, but that belied his witty sense of humor, and love for children and dogs. He also knew more about cardboard boxes than I thought was possible, courtesy of his prior consulting work. He even joined the Rotary Club of Murphy, in large part because it gave us an excuse to hang out.
The last time I saw Hugh, he told me the doctor said he could live another four months. I was counting on having that time, but thankfully I didn’t put off doing something I knew I needed to do.
Before I left, I held Hugh’s hand and told him I loved him. I told him how much he meant to me, and how much I learned from him. And I told him I would have been proud if he had been my person to call Dad.
If legacy is defined as your lasting impact on the world, then Hugh Williamson will live forever. I know I’ll see him again in heaven, which makes it easier to bear. I just hope his sons will let me borrow their “Pop” when I get there.
David Brown is publisher of the Cherokee Scout. You can reach him by phone, 837-5122; email, dbrown@cherokeescout.com; or on Twitter @daviddBstroh.