Osler Paul Smith Jr.

He was born a giant. He lived as a giant. He died just the right size. Born September 19, 1931 in Texarkana, Texas it didn’t take long for Osler Paul Smith to make a name for himself in the sports page of the Texarkana Gazette. Even though the Chicago White Sox offered him a spot as a left handed pitcher, basketball was his true love. He was offered scholarships at Arkansas and Baylor, but didn’t want to be too far away from his high school sweetheart, Jane, who would later become his wife and our mother. He opted to play at East Texas Baptist, then Lambeth College in Tennessee, and finally at Mississippi College, where he finally graduated. Afterward he started his life as a true Renaissance man. Between college and his time in the Air Force as a radar specialist, he lived in Texas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Georgia, North Carolina, Colorado and finally his dream spot. Alaska. It was here that he and Jane exposed their yearning for adventure. He worked at a salmon cannery, taught school, coached basketball, worked for the Alaskan railroad and the Alaska Fish and Game as a stream guard. Life was about facing the elements, finding the undiscovered lake, and flying his plane to Anchorage for groceries. The three trips he and Jane took driving the unpaved Alaskan highway back to Texas must have cemented their union. Two of the kids, Becky and Margaret, were born in Seward before their final journey back to the lower forty-eight in 1960. From here he taught school and worked as a school counselor until he decided what he wanted to do as a grown up. The last two kids, Stephen and Bonnie, were both born in Texarkana. His family was complete. He finally took the leap and began his PhD program in psychology at East Texas State. He wrote his PhD dissertation in a camper on the back of our Dodge pick-up in the driveway in Greenville, Texas while Jane bought groceries on her teacher salary. For a couple of years us kids wondered where Dad was. He was in the driveway the whole time. That’s not entirely accurate, however. From the day we were all born, he was the roll on the floor and laugh with you kind of dad. He loved when we occupied his lap. He extended joy. We were never poor because we never wanted more than we had. Christmas was always magical. Every childhood event found Paul Smith cheering the loudest. He was always there. He was always present.

He finally gets his doctorate and decides to stay on as the Dean of Men at East Texas State for a year. At the urging of a local pediatrician, he took a leap and we moved to San Angelo in 1971 where he slowly grew his practice as a counseling psychologist. We, the kids, were in the prime of all our extracurricular activities. He was there for every event. Through it all, he was a rock. Patient, kind and loving, he and mom guided us through all our pubescent calamities with grace. It was always a treat, when out in public, someone would tell us what a wonderful father we had. We knew. He was a master at healing the broken psyche of those who sought his counsel. Even for us. Beyond that, he could rebuild a Chevy 350 engine. Make anything out of wood, garden like an Irishman, engage in intelligent conversions about politics, history, religion and philosophy. He was an avid WW2 history buff, always with a book in his hand. He adored our mother and was her nurse for years prior to her death. He was preceded in death by his wife, Sadie Jane. He is survived by his sister Charlotte Murdock in Texarkana, four children, Becky Rawls, Margaret Wimpee, Stephen Smith and Bonnie Smith. His grandchildren Sarah, Clint, Brandon, Megan, Zach, Graham, Abbie and nine great grandchildren all of whom adored their Papaw. He was easy to adore. Special thanks to his caregivers Marie, Alma and Maudlyne. He was born a giant, lived as a giant and died just the right size. Not knowing with one hundred percent certainty if there is a heaven or a hell, it’s certain that wherever his spirit is, it’s a much better place with the presence of Osler Paul Smith.