Daryl Ray Matthews

He is survived by his wife, Pyllis Wilbanks Matthews; his parents Forrest and Jesserene Matthews; brother Gerald Matthews, married to Yvette Arellano; sister Sheri Matthews and sister Lura O'Connor, married to Tom O'Connor. Also remaining to cherish his memory are niece Charlotte Clinard and husband Dustin, niece Alicia Thompson and husband Jake, niece Ana Matthews and nephew Andrew Matthews. In addition, many aunts, uncles and cousins will fondly remember happy times with Daryl.

Funeral services will be held at 10:30 a.m. Friday, May 1, 2015 at Hope Chapel, 6701 Arroyo Seco, Austin, Texas. Graveside services will be held at 3:30 p.m. at Rutledge Cemetery in Poteet, Texas.

A Tribute to Daryl Matthews by the Family

According to his mother, Jesserene, Daryl came into the world in the easygoing, unhurried manner we all knew him to possess. Having already brought three children into the world, she was well experienced with pregnancy and childbirth. Three times, contractions sent Jesserene to the hospital, but Daryl settled back in for a little more solace. On the fourth trip, Daryl apparently decided it was time to get moving and joined the Matthews family in his own sweet time.

He grew up working side by side with his grandfather and his father, Forrest, learning construction and woodworking. This led to a strong bond and a working relationship that many fathers and sons can only envy. Each was able to anticipate the other’s next cut, next board placement, or next measurement, making completion of a job smooth and enjoyable. In kindergarten, Forrest took Daryl to highway department job sites, where Daryl enjoyed wearing his very own hard hat.

His love of construction continued into adulthood, and Daryl could often be found helping a friend or relative remodel a home, improve a kitchen, repair a roof, or build a deck or fence. He also employed his carpentry skills on mission trips to Alaska, where he helped build a log cabin parsonage. His last project was the construction of a deck right here at Hope Chapel. Later, after nephew Andrew came along, Daryl enjoyed having Andrew’s assistance and the opportunity to pass along the skills he had learned.

Daryl was famous for his cooking skills, having learned from his mother during many happy hours assisting her with meal preparation and ultimately taking more responsibility for larger events like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and barbeques, which he enjoyed greatly, especially when they were in celebration of a birthday. Cooking was one of the ways Daryl showed his affection, and his acquisition of advanced cake making skills was enjoyed by co-workers, friends and family. He once made and sold twenty Thanksgiving pies!

Daryl was generous and giving with any bounty of food - except one. He once offered popcorn to his niece Alicia, who said she’d just have some of his. Saying little - as usual, Daryl left – for way longer than normal for microwave popcorn. After some time, he returned with two large bags of popcorn. Perplexed, Alicia asked why he made her a whole bag of popcorn when she only wanted a little of his. Daryl simply said, “I don’t share popcorn.” So, on the rare occasion when he didn’t want to share, he just made double!

The Matthews have many happy memories of camping on the beach on Padre Island, but one in particular stands out. While relaxing and enjoying a meal of KFC, a sudden downpour forced everyone to seek refuge in either the tent or car to avoid being drenched. Trapped inside, they looked longingly out the windows, wondering when the rain would break. It didn’t take long for hunger to creep in and they wondered where the bucket of the “original recipe” had gone. As they peered beyond the crashing raindrops, they spotted the bucket of crispy, chicken-ey goodness. It was under a tarp-covered picnic table being enjoyed by a dry and happy Daryl! This was perhaps an early hint of Daryl’s appreciation of culinary pleasures!

Family was supremely important to Daryl and he dearly loved his three nieces and nephew, and took great delight in working with Phyllis to prepare the Christmas treasure hunt of the early years, observing the annual search for presents and clues. He also got a thrill out of employing his baking expertise to design a “Wild Kratts” cake for nine-year-old Ana. He enjoyed movies with the youngsters and his siblings and friends, and got a kick out of the hand signal system for rating the previews. As the years progressed, he took pride in watching all of them grow and quickly became fond of Charlotte’s and Alicia’s husbands, Dustin and Jake.

Daryl worked at Motorola, later Freescale, for twenty-two years. Work was important and rewarding to Daryl and, as a cheerful and dedicated worker, he enjoyed his labor and, in particular, his team of co-workers. Interested in the morale of his fellow employees, he often made cakes for birthdays and important life events, helping to foster the camaraderie he so valued and enjoyed.

Finding great enjoyment in nature, Daryl took numerous camping and hiking trips and was known for his unfailing sense of direction, attention to safety and preparedness, and keeping his fellow hikers out of danger with his voice of reason. In the outdoors just as with his acts of cooking, baking, and building, Daryl was concerned about the welfare and comfort of others.

Daryl enjoyed dominoes almost as much as barbeque, and logged numerous hours honing his Forty-Two and trash train prowess. When he turned 42, he had a Forty-Two party – a bunco-style, multi-round championship. He got a real kick out of watching his father-in-law and young niece clean up on every round, finally winning even over Daryl and his super-expert domino partner, Keith. His enjoyment of the game and the interaction in spite of losing was characteristic of Daryl’s good nature and how he prized fellowship above the outcome of the game.

A wonderful son-in-law, he welcomed Phyllis’s mother into his home, looked after her needs, cooked special meals for her dietary needs, and took her out to eat at Luby’s with his Freescale team. In this relationship, too, Daryl demonstrated his care and love by employing his skills to help with repairs and projects ranging from doorknob replacement to roofing. His in-laws also enjoyed his readiness to gather around the piano and heartily sing hymns or Christmas carols at family and holiday gatherings.

Perhaps it was his satisfaction from a life of giving and contribution to others that led to the soundest sleep experienced by any human being in world history. While living at the Matthews home, his grandmother was airlifted by a helicopter that landed right outside the room where Daryl was sleeping – and continued to sleep through the entire episode!

With sleep like this, who wouldn’t wake up happy?! And Daryl did just that. He woke up happy – singing and whistling, contributing sunshine and cheer to the life he and Phyllis shared. He watched his shows while doing laundry and sang along to Christian music while cooking. He and Phyllis made a great team. His practical, common sense know-how was complemented by her attention to detail and created a synergy as they worked together on daily chores and special projects alike. Together they enjoyed time in church fellowship and with friends, and Phyllis helped with design and construction of the cakes Daryl so enjoyed making. His acts of service as a husband ministered to Phyllis, who could rely on him for help with chores, meals and errands whenever needed. And here too, he showed his love by using his carpentry skills, building a series of decks for a jeweler in order to obtain the wedding ring he put on Phyllis’s finger on October 26, 2002.

At one time, anger was dominant in Daryl’s life. His mother prayed fervently about this matter and, after Daryl submitted his life to Jesus and decided to follow Him, his anger dissipated, and patience and kindness became hallmarks of his character.

Daryl’s life verse was Proverbs 3:5-7 – “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and turn away from evil.

Daryl was a person of few words and significant actions. Great of heart and generosity. Dedicated employee. Devoted son, brother and husband. Known for acts of service. Selfless with his time. He will be missed and remembered.

And for those of us who are in Christ, we will see Daryl again.

A Tribute to Daryl Matthews by Alicia Thompson

There are some people who can journey through life without ever achieving fame, without drawing any great attention to themselves, but somehow in their own quiet way they can still change the world. Daryl Ray Matthews was one of those people. He may not have been a household name, but he was a great man who left an indelible mark on all who knew him.

Daryl was born in Tyler, Texas on April 23rd of 1968. He was never in a hurry about anything. Although he was the last of four children and assumed to come into this world in the same timely manner as his siblings, his mother, Jesserene Matthews, went to the hospital several times in false labor before he finally made his appearance. Daryl was born just as he lived, by his own schedule.

Much to the dismay of all who knew him, Daryl’s life was cut short by a tragic accident on April 26th of 2015. Daryl’s family had gathered to celebrate his birthday, but he never reached their home. While traveling along the highway, his tire blew out causing the car to flip. Two good samaritans helped extricate his wife Phyllis from the wreckage. She was then faced with the terrible news that Daryl did not survive.

Daryl will be best remembered as “Pooky”, a name given by his sister because “he was just a little teddy bear”, like Garfield’s famous teddy bear. He was a loveable man who never met a stranger. Daryl was a lovable, affable man strangers readily approached.

He was the sort of man who thought only of others, never of himself. He was the sort of man who was always willing to help a friend in need. His home was always open to family and friends who needed a place to stay or something to eat. Of course, around Daryl there was never a shortage of food. If he was going to do anything, he was going to do it big. He often made delicious layered cakes for family parties and weddings, and had even begun making them for special occasions for friends. As his cousin said, “Daryl was as sweet as his cakes.”

Daryl will also be remembered for his excellent craftsmanship. He enjoyed working on projects of all different sizes. He often worked with his father, Forest Matthews, on any handyman project they could find. His last great project was building a new deck for his church. Daryl was proud that he could purchase the lumber and, by the sweat of his brow, work alongside his Dad building the new porch. He was able to complete the project for only the cost of the lumber, saving the church well over a thousand dollars. Of course, Daryl never would have bragged about his accomplishments; it just wasn’t in his nature. He simply enjoyed living his life by seeing a need and taking action.

It is said that “no man is an island”; each person changes those he meets, either for the better or for the worse. I will forever be changed for the better because I knew Daryl Matthews. Not because I enjoyed eating his delicious cakes or watching him work on one of his many projects (although I have many memories of both), but because I saw in him the kind of life that I wish to live. I may never be famous or well known, but if my life can have a positive influence on those around me, help people to laugh in times of sorrow, be filled with hard work and dedication, marked with kindness and love and commitment to family, then I will count it to be like Daryl’s a good life well-lived and worthy of being remembered.

A Tribute to Daryl Matthews by Keith Vetter

First, it's a great honor to make a tribute to Daryl. This barely touches the remarkable life he lived.

I've been thinking about the time Daryl and I spent together. We played soccer, tennis, racquetball, pool, washers, horseshoes, frisbee golf - even regular golf together. Daryl was a competitor. I was top of my tennis class. Daryl was my toughest match. If I remember correctly, he got his swing from Mrs. Matthews. We were always fixing my cars which were always broken. Unlike me who ran his car on oil turned to tar balls, Daryl meticulously recorded each and every detail he did on his truck from regular 3000 mile oil changes to brake pad changes. Daryl and I spent countless hours sitting on the back porch talking about the day's events and dreams of the future. In the summer, he'd tell me about his days flagging on the highway. I got a new story each day. I loved them – especially the ones where people tried to get around Daryl while he was holding a flag to stop them. He got so fired up over that. We went to Austin Community College together. We shared the same teachers. We spent night after night in "the shed" doing homework. After homework, we played straight dominoes, chess, Stratego, rummy, lifted weights and hung upside down like bats from the ceiling with those boots with hooks on the end to do sit-ups. That was Gerald's idea. Sit-ups on the floor were for pansies. It was also Gerald's idea to have Daryl and I make him an arsenal of bullets - which we did. If there is an apocalypse, I don't know if I'd be more scared of the enemy or the bullets we assembled. We frequented a bar in Redrock to play pickup dominoes. I went camping with Daryl a lot. We went in Daryl's truck to New Mexico a couple times. I remember waking up in the camper, somewhere in the desert, to a cold, crisp morning after Daryl driving all night. We hiked Big Bend together. I remember going out with Daryl to the nightclubs. Daryl, in blue jeans, thin blonde mustache, so not cool, would do "the robot", to the wrong song, while everybody else danced normal. Daryl was keeping Austin weird. We fished Lake Somerville a few times in Daryl's john boat. I caught stick after stick convinced each one was a big fish, “Daryl! I got one! It's a big one!” I can't tell you how many good times we had together. Daryl made my late teens to mid-twenties a great place, full of life. He was my right hand man while bursting into the world. I was shot gun. He was at the wheel.

Daryl was as competitive as I was. We were always neck and neck in everything - from sports all the way to chess. We even had a competition memorizing pi. The number pi wrapped the math room. I had it memorized to 40 digits or so. Daryl had me beat.

We got to team up when we played 42. We were no longer competitors – we were a team. I loved playing with Daryl. The night before my wedding, I had a bachelor party playing 42. I wanted Daryl as my partner. I always wanted Daryl as my partner. I had the most fun and won the most with him. My bachelor party was head to head combat with Joel and Trae (or was it Benji!?!). Daryl and I never gave each other tells, but he knew that I was thinking what he was thinking what I was thinking what they were thinking what I was thinking what he was thinking – We did The Vulcan Mind Meld – so he'd throw the right domino. We could go that far. If we were on, we were invincible. We knew each other that well. If I threw a double six and the six four didn't show, I could almost guarantee I'd know whether or not Daryl had the 6/4. I hand made a set of wooden dominoes. When I made the set, I made one domino a day for a month. After making a domino, I'd dedicate it to somebody. Daryl was the 6/4 – he always had me covered by trump and/or by count.

There is so much more I could tell - dutch ovens, "oranch surprise", pushing that diesel Golf Volkswagon half the night to Plantersville, homemade ice cream, roasting chickens on the open pit, floating the San Marcos river, camping in Wimberley, eating Mexican food in east Austin, riding donkeys to Boquillas, playing pool, Spock-Scotty-McCoy-Captain Kirk impressions, President Nixon impressions, Holy Ghost filled preacher impressions, hot springs in the desert, singing the blues, dancing to live Rock-a-Billy music at the Black Cat, sombreros in Mexico, crunching through snow in the Gila Wilderness, working through Calculus I, II and III, changing oil, sitting by the woodstove.

We partied on.

I can't believe the person that I share so many great memories with is gone. It saddens me deeply. He was truly a great friend. When I heard somebody had passed away, I said, "... not Daryl."

What all this brings back is how wonderful it was. Daryl was the pilot. If so, I'd be Spock, who I will quote, "Each of us... at some time in our lives, turns to someone - a father, a brother, a God... and asks...'Why am I here? What was I meant to be?'" Those were the questions I wrestled with with Daryl on the back porch, in the kitchen, under stars, by camp fires, on road trips, in mountains, on lakes and along streams.

Daryl didn't stop to think when it came to helping somebody, that is just what he did. It is who he was - an honest-to-goodness, solid, sweet soul. I was very honored to have Daryl as the best man in my wedding and most honored to write this tribute to him. Daryl was always there for me, not just me, but anybody who needed help. It's such a tragedy to see him go. The world just lost a big heaping bowl of goodness.

Daryl and I went to church in North Austin together. One time a group of us went to Corpus Christi. I'm not sure if it was at that time that Daryl fell head over heels for Phyllis, but at some point I remember, distinctly, Daryl singing:

I love to sing-a

About the moon-a and the June-a and the spring-a,

I love to sing-a,

About a sky so blue-a, or a tea for two-a,

Anything-a with a swing-a to an "I love you-a,"

I love to, I love to sing-a!

He sang it over and over. Each time he sang it, Phyllis would laugh so loud. Then Daryl would sing it again. Then Phyllis would laugh and he'd sing it again. If Daryl stopped, Phyllis would say, “Do it again!” Daryl was so happy in love with Phyllis - goofy, giddy completely in love. Once, Kim and I went on a double date with Daryl and Phyllis. We saw Mrs. Doubtfire. I didn't think the movie was funny. While I stared stoic at the screen, Daryl and Phyllis hee-haw and snort laughed together. They were a riot. Those were good times. I am deeply sorry for your loss, Phyllis.

On Monday I read this Spock quote, "One can begin to reshape the landscape with a single flower." I wanted to plant a bed of flowers in our garden in memory of Daryl. Tuesday morning a flower shaped into a star blossomed in our garden. As I reach for stars, stars like you reached back for me.

We are boldly going where no man has gone before. I pictured you with all my friends when we touch a foot on Mars. I tribute you as a giant part in the small part I'm playing in that from that first program on your Commodore 64 to the International Docking System today. Thanks for all the hours of study beside you where you made it fun.

Daryl, we boldly went where this man had not gone before. We did that on the cliffs of the Mariscal Mountains in Big Bend alongside the Peregrine Falcons. Thanks for being the pilot on those explorations. Thanks for the tent. Thanks for gear. Thanks for the dutch oven apple cobblers. Thanks for all the time listening to me. Thanks for all the meals. Thanks for the games. Thanks for the rides. Thanks for the helping hand. Thanks for all the adventure. Thanks for instilling in me that love for exploration.

How many times in my life did I call 247-5615 with the question, “Hey, is Daryl there?” with Lura hollering, “Hey Daryl, it's Keif the Deif!” With Daryl to say, “What's up...” And me to say, “Daryl, could you...” Or “Hey, you wanna go...”

I wonder where I'd be had it not been for Daryl's friendship. The better question is where I am because of that friendship. Benji pointed that out. I got a big heaping bowl of goodness over a heavily iced thick slice of dense sweet cake. His cakes, I hear, are producing black holes in a parallel universe. If anything is cool about Austin, it's Daryl making cakes. Hands down – winner. I'm surprised Willie Nelson didn't show up on Daryl's doorstep.

I've made new friends here in Houston. I would like to point to Daryl when it comes to things like helping my neighbor with his transmission, cycling 100 miles with another neighbor, bbq-ing with neighbors, baking my first apple pie for Thanksgiving, partying with my neighbors like it's 1999 on New Years, being so passionate with my work in exploring our solar system, helping a neighbor move, going to the latest live rock show. I don't know how many times I've said to my friends here, "That's what we used to do." That "we" always included Daryl. Thanks for being that part of me that wants to help others. Their thanks goes to you, my friend.

Daryl was a Trekkie. Leonard Nimoy wrote that he based the Vulcan greeting/farewell based on the priestly blessing performed at Jewish ceremonies. The hand forms the Hebrew letter Shin which has three upward strokes similar to the hand sign in the Vulcan salute. The letter Shin stands for El Shaddai meaning "Almighty God", as well as Shalom.

The text of that Priestly Blessing, taken from Numbers 6:23-27, given by the descendants of Aaron the High Priest, the brother of Moses, is:

May the LORD bless you and guard you

May the LORD make His face shed light upon you and be gracious unto you

May the LORD lift up His face unto you and give you peace

Shalom is a Hebrew word that has many meanings. It can mean peace, completeness, prosperity and welfare and can be used as a hello or farewell. In its use in Scripture, shalom describes the actions that lead to a state of soundness, or better yet wholeness.

The last time I saw Daryl, I saw him so whole and at peace. He was even more gentle, kind and generous as he grew into manhood. I am so happy that he had a great life and was able to share that with us. Daryl is up there as one of the greatest people I have had the privilege of knowing. Thank you so much for being my friend.

I think Daryl would find it appropriate, at this point, to hold a hand in the Vulcan Salute and say:

May the LORD bless you and guard you

May the LORD make His face shed light upon you and be gracious unto you

May the LORD lift up His face unto you and give you peace

Live Long and Prosper

And in the immortal words of Bill and Ted, Daryl would say, as he did when he gave the toast at my wedding,

“Party On!”

A Tribute to Daryl Matthews by Joel Trunick

I couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl when I heard the news. I had to start writing to help me in the grieving process. I cried on every word I wrote, even on the funny parts, actually, maybe even more on the funny parts. I never had to try to think of words or things to say. I was just writing down all the things I couldn’t stop thinking about.

I was asked to read “the eulogy” at the service, but I was apprehensive that this wouldn’t be the “Daryl story” that I knew, so I was not only honored to read this eulogy at the funeral, but also very relieved to get this off my chest. Leslie referred to this as a “tribute” after the service, which I think is a much more apt name for what I intended.

I thought I’d be crying the whole time reading this, but I think a little nervousness kept me from doing so. I was also quite apprehensive about attempting to do any of Daryl’s impressions, which I feel nobody other than Daryl can really do, at least not the way he does them. I needed just a little bit of encouragement from Trae to do the “first man on the sun” on stage. I hope that people that knew him or didn’t know him got a glimpse of Daryl. This is for Daryl.

- - - - - - - -

If you saw Daryl you could expect to laugh, when you left Daryl you could expect to leave with a smile on your face. This is the first time I’ve said goodbye to Daryl without a smile on my face. When I referred to Daryl to my kids, you were “Uncle” Daryl. They would ask me if you were really their Uncle. I guess they didn’t believe I had a slightly older, blonde-haired blue-eyed brother.

I haven’t had to shed a tear on someone’s passing. That all changed Sunday, Daryl. You weren’t supposed to be the one. You’re barely older than I am. I cried Sunday, and went to bed with a lump in my throat the size of your heart. It was quite the painful lump indeed. I didn’t get to sleep for a while. Why did you have to have such a big heart?

I’d been meaning to tell you there’s a Black’s in Austin now. I kept meaning to call you the last couple of weeks and ask if you wanted to go together. We had only been to Black’s once in Lockhart, but I knew it was your favorite BBQ. I didn’t know you’d be gone. With my good intentions, was I half the friend to you as you were to me? I’d be happy knowing I was half the friend you are, because half the friend you were, is still quite the friend indeed. If I were less of a friend, you wouldn’t have even noticed. You didn’t count rights or wrongs; your big heart was just there joyfully helping others. I did eat at Black’s a couple of days too late on Tuesday with Suzanne and wore a blue shirt. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

Our lives have been deeply entwined. Just Saturday (the day before I heard the news), I happened to be watching movie trailers and stumbled across that movie quote you’d recite, “What we have here is a failure to communicate”. I thought, “Oh, that’s where Daryl got that from.”. Earlier that day, after picking my daughter up from a birthday party, I told her about that roller skating birthday party where you, Mike Hayes, Darrell Johnson, and a couple of others all gave me a scale model as a gift, and then 10 years ago or so when everyone brought you a blue shirt for your birthday. We found those events funny, and would mention them over the years.

On Sunday, when I heard you had passed my mind flashed back to when I was about 4 years old. You and I were playing “ball” in front of the church and you told me where there would be left-over donuts after the men’s meeting had let out. I remember thinking, “this guy knows where the donuts are, and helps you get one too”, “I want to hang out with this guy.” (I didn’t have particularly deep thoughts at 4). The best we have figured out is that we probably met each other as toddlers, but in any case, you’ve known me my whole life. You even know that back then I was called “Jody”.

My first day at Hill Country Christian School was in 4th grade. I didn’t know a soul there, and was so happy to see you when I got on the bus, and you told me how much fun we were going to have at school, you told me about everything to expect, and I felt much more relaxed. You were right; we had lots of fun… Even that day when you, Cameron and I got swats from Mr. Tubb. On your first swat you started making “whooping” sounds and hopping around the room. You had Mr. Tubb crying laughing he could hardly finish giving you swats. Cameron and I don’t remember the stings from our swats. How was that even possible? With you, laughter was always possible.

My first day playing soccer ever, It was explained and I understood that I wasn’t supposed to use my hands at all. Then, I was made goalie. To say I was confused was an understatement, but you and Benji were there to help me get through my first experience with soccer. How about “The Sting”? You were center defender, with Benji and I beside you. I think part of the reason you were in the middle, is because you looked big and intimidating. If the other team knew what a “big teddy bear” the girls said you were, it may not have worked that well. As co-defenders, we could stop just about anything the other team threw at us. Was it that we were that good of soccer players, or could it be that we played so long together that we knew exactly how each other was going to play?

How about that week on the Rio Grande? Canoeing? You were my stern, and I was your bow. You were more like the canoe’s engine, because single-handedly you can pass up anybody in the canoe, reminding me of when we rode that “bicycle built for two”, you’d have the pedals spinning so fast in the back, I couldn’t keep my feet on the pedals in front. In our 5 days on the river, we didn’t flip that canoe, even over “Rodeo Rapids”.

I don’t know how many times I would have stepped on a tennis court, if it weren’t for you. I remember the first time I was pretty young, your Mom took us, and you were patient and helped me figure it out. In High School, we ended up being the “entire” HCCS tennis team one year, just the two of us. Ms. Edridge was coach and we played maybe three other “teams”. Never mind that we had to teach one of these so-called tennis teams how to play tennis, but it didn’t matter, because together we had fun doing it. Even last year or so you had me out on a tennis court. You loved tennis, and you were a big factor that I enjoyed it as well.

One day, you picked me up in your truck to go golfing. You had recently helped your Aunt clean up around her place, and she let you keep the set of golf clubs you found in her shed. This wasn’t exactly a brand new set of golf clubs. The canvas bag was literally falling apart, and the irons were even rusty. But, with some duct tape you managed to make the bag stay together, and with some rope you replaced the broken straps. With that, we headed off to Aquarena Springs to conquer the greens.

The green fee was kind of pricey for a couple of college students. That didn’t bother me as much as the golf set we were lugging around. Here we were with players wearing their plaid shorts, golf shoes, and running around in their golf carts and new golf clubs in leather bags, and the two of us in tennis shoes and lugging around our poor dilapidated bag of irons. I generally wanted to keep the bag as out-of-sight as possible. Daryl, I know you weren’t embarrassed for one moment, and with your ability to always be yourself, you had already learned how to be happy.

Well, it was the first time for me, and I believe the first time for you as well, but how hard could this be? I set my ball up on the tee first. I used an iron, because the splintered woods had already been thrown away. I determined to whack the ball as hard as I could. I swung hard, but ended up topping the ball, which barely rolled 3 feet, not even out of the Tee box. Your first swing connected with the ball... however, the ball hit the first tree off to the right, came right back at us and travelled in the opposite, wrong direction about 50 yards. I said “Daryl, I think this is going to be a long game.” At some point we lost track of the number of balls we lost to the stream, and elsewhere, but we did finish all 18 holes and shared a good time together.

You could say we broke a lot of bread together, but it was usually of the deep fried tortilla variety. Daryl, you loved your Mexican food. Herbert’s Taco Hut was your go-to place, but I think we hit every Mexican restaurant north and south of the San Marcos River at least twice. I remember after racquetball with Trae, we spotted a new Mexican restaurant that had a sign --- “all you can eat”, I don’t remember the price, but it sounded like a dream come true for three hungry college guys.

I think we started in on some sort of unspoken competition to see who could eat the most. If so, Trae and I had long since given up on this competition, while you were happily chugging along. You had eaten some tamales, tostadas, tacos, tortillas, rice, beans, and you had just ordered your 10th enchilada or so. Trae noted that the look on the owner/waitress’ face was one of displeasure likely brought on by this seemingly non-stop consumption of her food. We left satisfied. Needless to say, after our very next racquetball game, we returned to our new-found food nirvana. However, to our dismay there was no longer an all-you-can-eat option on the menu. Coincidence? I don’t think so. We teased you about that, or at least we tried to tease you about it, but in your good nature style, I think the most we got was a chuckle. Even not that long ago my wife and I would bump into you and Phyllis at Rancho Grande. You had long before taught me that you can always judge a Mexican restaurant by its salsa.

We biked together, had sleep-overs, birthday parties, played Stratego, Monopoly, Chess, and Risk, went snipe hunting, camping, capture the flag, lots of $1 movies. In 1977, we saw a movie called Star Wars together, we thought it was a pretty good movie. In 9th grade (your 10th grade), remember that story about the Cow that ate your lunch you wrote? Whoever read it laughed out loud, because it was only a story Daryl could write, and the kind that would endear everyone to you. Photography class together --- In the dark room I remember watching you make that print of Erika Teague using a heart-shaped filter. It was no secret you thought Erika was Zzzzzrrrr Zzzzrr.

You, Trae, and I went to Beeville in your Volkswagen Golf and flew real navy flight simulators (thank you Elmer Jackson). Another time, we were robbing bees a little too late into one evening and the bees were angry, we were jumping around in your truck bed, swinging our t-shirts, trying to keep the bees out of our hair. We had a dozen bee stings between us. Reminds me of those swats with you jumping around Mr. Tubb. Again, I don’t remember the stings very much, just the fun we had together. There was hiking and camping in New Mexico (and trying to sleep before you started snoring). Penny poker. Skiing in Michigan --- My Aunt in Michigan had picked up on the fact that you talk a lot using your hands. She had you sit on your hands and try to describe how to tie a shoe. You ended up using your head a lot instead, it was funny. We were each other’s groomsman. My son was your ring bearer. You took me, my son, and daughter to play disc golf for the very first time.

God, did you call Daryl home so he cheer up some angels, bake a cake, maybe you are flipping heavenly mansions and you need his help? All of these would be excellent reasons to call Daryl home. But I don’t know why, God, you decided to take Daryl home in a car and not in a truck. Except for that Volkswagen Golf you had in High School, you were a truck man. I don’t remember how exactly how many, but I do remember there was a blue stripe one, a brown one, a red one, and the last one with a king cab. The amount of time I spent riding shotgun with you in your trucks could be measured not in hours, nor in days, but in weeks. We didn’t share exactly the same taste in music, but the time listening to Hal Ketchum or Rush in your truck were memorable. There was one truck I didn’t much care for. I think it was the brown one. This truck, had the nasty habit of shocking me at random points in time. It would zap me making me have this twitching, spasm reaction. This seemed to tickle you, and you would laugh your hearty Daryl laugh, and smile your big Daryl smile. I never thought for one moment that you were laughing at me, because you don’t have a mean bone in your body. To make me think that I somehow instrumental in making you laugh, though, I wish that your truck had shocked me a hundred more times.

You were a great example. If I mentioned I had a tree in my yard that needed to be taken down, you’d say, “I’ll get my chain saw, when do you want to do it?”. Or, if I mentioned that I needed to put in some attic stairs, you’d say, “I’ll get my tools, we can work on it together”. You were always ready to volunteer, and lend a helping hand. Like some sort of red-bearded Texas Santa Claus, you built and brought Joshua a train table in your sleigh of a truck, and two years ago, you surprised me by stopping by on my birthday and taking me out to a steak dinner. I’ll remember that one for years.

Monday, I ate at your favorite chicken restaurant (Gus’s) wearing a blue shirt (it just seemed right). I hadn’t eaten there since your birthday party last year. You had brought the largest hummingbird cake carefully decorated with chocolate that you had baked yourself for your own birthday party (who does that?). Not only did you cut the largest and most generous slices of cake ever seen for your co-workers at the table, you made sure that my boss and his friend who happened to be eating at another table got a slice. You even gave a slice to every person that worked at Gus’s (who does that?) and made sure that I took a slice home to my wife. You only expressed disappointment that you weren’t able to give her a bigger slice by that point. Your heart was bigger than that cake.

I remember you’d imitate the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island, and say “hey, little buddy”. At the time, I wasn’t sure you were just doing the impression or really calling me your “little buddy”. I’d like to think it was the latter, as I was lucky to have you as my “big buddy”. You’d also say, “you can call me anything you want, just don’t call me late for dinner.” In that case, I choose to call you “friend for life”, which almost seems like an understatement. We were however supposed to “live long and prosper”, “party on” and play 42 “until the cows came home”.

I’ll miss your quotes.. Jaws -- “we’re gonna need a bigger boat”. DeNiro -- “You talking to me?, You talking to me?”, Jed Clampett -- “Welll doggies”, or “Well spit on the fire, and call the dogs home!”. You had a good Richard M. Nixon impression, but I’m kind of partial to your corny impression in 4th grade of “the first man on the sun”.

When you and Phyllis were taking cake decorating classes, you stopped by our house and left us your finished cake so that my kids could eat it. Daryl, since I was 4 you’ve been helping me find the donuts in my life and even now with my kids. Whether those donuts have taken the form of tennis, soccer, golf, disc golf, camping, billiards, paintball, 42, cake, or just gosh-darned actual donuts. I thank you for that, and for the example you set, that I can hope to be. “You da’ man. Daryl, you da’ the man”.

Your Friend Forever,

Joel

PS. Yesterday, Daryl, you made 100s of people laugh at a funeral. (Who does that?)