Drew Parsons (1954-2021)

It was once said that the death of a dear friend is a strongest indication of the clarity of all of our futures. In a world that allowed Anne Frank to die, it is easier for us to lose interest and accept our own eventual demise.  Drew Parsons, who was among his many interests and accomplishments a student of the Holocaust, would understand that statement.  That said, Drew never lost interest and lived his life to the fullest in the time he was given. 

My friendship with Drew extends over nearly five decades; since that evening in September 1972 when I first met him in Florida Southern College’s Branscomb Auditorium.  He was an incoming freshman and I had just returned from a year studying abroad in Germany to begin my senior year.  It was at that same time that I met SallyAnn who two years later would become my wife.  We were both good friends with Drew’s brother Don - in fact, it was Don who first introduced SallyAnn to me - and we were both excited to have another Parsons among us.  It was the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.  Drew, Don and I are fraternity brothers in Tau Kappa Epsilon and will always remain in that bond.  Drew, SallyAnn and I were members of The Vagabonds, the FSC theatrical troupe and we spent many hours together both on and off stage.  Drew and I shared the boards in The Crucible and The Merchant of Venice, and SallyAnn joined us in the cast of A Short Story Quartet.  It was in the Green Room where Drew and I engaged in what some will call “legendary” slow motion fist fights.  At least he and I thought so. 

Sadly, after leaving Florida Southern I tried to stay in touch as best I could but I did not get the opportunity to see Drew as often as I would have liked to.  I returned to Florida in December 1974 after my first year in graduate school in Tucson when SallyAnn and I married in Pensacola.  Several of our friends interrupted their holidays at home to share that special day with us.  Drew and Don came all the way from Pompano Beach to be there.

When our son Ian was born in November 1981 I contacted Drew, who at the time was pastor at the McCrea United Methodist Church in Fort Murray, New Jersey,  and I asked him if he would baptize him.  He agreed immediately and he and Sandy hosted our family and friends as we made the trip to rural northwestern New Jersey on March 20, 1982 . . . 39 years ago today . . . and on that day Drew became an important part of Ian’s life, too.

In the intervening years SallyAnn and I would return to Florida in the hopes of linking up with Drew and some of our other college friends.  Regardless of how long it had been, we always seemed to pick up right where we left off.  On one such trip, we attended the FSC 2010 homecoming festivities during which the Vagabonds paid tribute to the late Mel Wooten who had been our director and mentor during the budding of those early thespian careers.  It was a time of sadness but also a celebration as we fondly recalled those days together.  Drew and I were joined by one of our former “co-stars” for some slow motion fisticuffs.    

It was also during one of those returns to Florida when we were excited to meet Becky . . . another Parsons had come to Florida Southern College . . . and from that day on she became an important part of our lives.   I liked to kid with Drew that Becky is the daughter we never had, and as time went on we discovered how true this is.  We always love it when she flies up to Maine in the summer to share time with us at the lake cottage.

The last time I saw Drew was in February 2019 when we joined him and Sandy for a seafood dinner on the banks of the St. Johns River.  It was the first time since he began his struggle with cancer.  We jokingly remarked how we had not seemed to age, but certainly the past decade had taken its toll.  Still, Drew was just as I remember him.  That wry smile and that keen sense of humor.   Always quick with the puns.  We promised not to wait so long to get together again, but the ways of the world always seemed to get in the way. 

In early January we were saddened to learn that Drew had elected to enter hospice care.  He had come to terms with the realization that his long and brave battle was tightening its grip.  He had spoken with his God and his family and had made peace with the world and his time and place in it.  He wrote how much he hoped he would survive long enough to participate in the November 3rd election; the health of the American democracy was very important to him.  What incredible courage to face his personal struggle yet so concerned for the country he would leave behind for the rest of us.  And what humility as he asked his family and friends to forgive any pain or unkindness he knew he had inflicted.  He reminded us all that regardless of it all he was a happy man thankful for the fullness of the life he had enjoyed and shared with others.

I wrote my last letter to Drew on January 7 telling him how much he had meant to me since we first met.  As we grow older, and certainly in the autumn of our years, we cannot help but reflect on our own mortality and what we hope to accomplish in the time remaining to us.  I told him I could not even try to comprehend what he was going through but could only assure him that he was not going through it alone.  He had the love and understanding of his family and his friends.   I recall many of the times we had shared over these many years and what they meant to me and to SallyAnn; that he shared in our wedding and the baptizing of our son who has grown into a remarkable young man. And then there is Becky who is quite wonderful in her own special way. 

My last letter from Drew arrived on January 11.  His mind was still sharp, his wit dry as ever, and he assured me that he felt the best he had since he entered hospice in September.  He shared his own impressions of many of our shared memories and especially that connection through our children.  He also mentioned our shared interest in Holocaust studies and we both regretted that we never had an opportunity to work together after realizing how much we owed to each other without ever fully realizing it.  He sent me a copy of his doctoral dissertation which I read with amazement.  What a wonderfully analytical mind he had.  Drew and I were brothers in the bond, but I consider him much more than that. 

When word came that Drew had passed away I was not sure how to respond.  What does one say at a time like that?  Then I recalled a passage of Scripture – Romans 8:38-39:  
“Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.  For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.  When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory.’”

I am sad that Drew has left us, yet out of grief comes the joy of the many memories we share and which will never be lost to time.  Drew is unforgettable and I will miss him always.  Mögest du in ewigem Frieden ruhen, mein lieber Freund und Bruder.