Randy Faucett

[West Metro Realty]

My cousin, Randy Faucett, passed away today as a result of a car accident. He is the first of our generation in the Marble Hill Georgia Buchanan clan to pass away. There were fourteen of us cousins.

 

Randy had a rough life. He lived hard and partied hardier. In the end, he was the mainstay of his family and was raising a grandchild.

 

I wrote this story about him and my family years ago and wanted to post it to commemorate his life. In my mind, he was always a hero.

 

Rest in peace, Randy, and know that your cousin, Betty, loves you.

 

 

HOLIDAY HEROES

The small, ramshackle house of my Papa Clyde and Granny Ida's was full of aunts, uncles and cousins. The noise had become loud and monotonous. We children were shooed outside as the Thanksgiving turkey and dressing were being reheated and finishing touches to the covered dishes that everyone had brought were being added.

By mutual, unspoken agreement my cousins, William and Randy Faucett, and my sister, Elaine and I headed for the creek. Each time the four of us had met at our grandparents' home we had ventured further and further upstream, fascinated by the rushing, mountain creek-river that became more violent and more beautiful the further upstream we traveled.

The river became almost tamed by the time it reached my grandparents' house, its rushing waters caught and subdued by boulders that had been piled up in years past to make a swimming hole. The swimming hole was used at that time by at least two of the local churches as a 'baptizing hole' for the converts that had been saved during the bi-yearly revivals. I don't think any of the family thought of the river as dangerous--at least not until that Thanksgiving Day.

On that day, we had traveled farther upstream than ever before. The noise of the river became loud and thunderous and we had to yell to each other in order to be heard. Huge, moss-covered boulders made beautiful waterfalls, and we dreamed and played of Indians and hidden gold beneath the cascading waters.

"I'll bet there are caves in the rocks along the banks of this river," one of us shouted, and we all began looking over the high bank's edges for caves. It was then that we discovered the beautiful hidden waterfall. The water poured out from the rocks themselves and was hidden within the concave of an overhanging boulder.

The wonder of it made us bold and we jumped off the edge onto another boulder to get a closer look. However, there wasn't enough room for all of us, and Elaine, my youngest sister, lost her footing. The rest of us watched in horror as she slid down the steep side of the boulder and into the water. Under the constant onslaught of a larger waterfall, her foot had become lodged between rocks beneath the water, and she could not move. She was gasping for breath, having to crane her neck into an almost impossible position to keep her face clear of the water. We knew it would only be a matter of time until she became too tired to fight the cold flood of water. From our position on top of the boulder, it didn't seem as if there was any way to help her.

William immediately ran back to the house to get help. Randy stood there looking as scared and indecisive as I felt. He looked beyond me, toward the house and then back at me. Our eyes locked. "We've got to help her!" I yelled. He nodded.

To this day, I have no idea of how we instigated the plan that came to our minds. I don't remember even telling Randy what we needed to do; he seemed to know without words. He positioned himself at the top of the boulder and held to the top of the ledge. I hung onto him, climbing down him and the rocks. In later years, Randy grew to be a strong, big man, but at that time, he wasn't any bigger than I was. I'm not at all sure how he held both of our weight. Hanging onto his leg, I offered my leg to Elaine and somehow she grabbed my foot. My shoe came off and barreled down the river and she lost her grip, once again plunging under water. She raised herself up and pulled again, wrenching her foot free from the rocks.

Once her foot was freed, she climbed up the rocks, pulling on my body. We could only hope that Randy had the strength to hold us both.

Finally, we all made it to safety and lay on the ledge. For a brief moment, we had been wrenched from our cocoons of childhood, totally silenced by the enormity of Elaine's close brush with death. Finally, Elaine, shaking and driven by her need for warmth, started back to the house, and we followed in her wake.

We were met on the way back to the house by a noise almost as thunderous as the river--the noise of our terrified relatives. William had run into the house and yelled that Elaine was ‘a-laying at the bottom of the creek’. My Papa, who was closer to 300 pounds than 200 pounds, had run the entire way and stood practically doubled over gasping for air, cursing between gulps. Elaine was grabbed up into a huddle and transported back to the house, the rest of us forgotten. I looked back at the river and suddenly, through the crystal clear water, saw my shoe that had been pulled off of my foot, resting on the river bottom. Looking to my side, I found a solution for retrieving it. I picked up a long stick and lay flat on my stomach and almost had reached it when I was yanked unceremoniously away from the water.

"Good grief, Betty! Do you want to drown?" My eldest sister, Nancy, admonished me and drug me along the path after the retreating cloud of relatives. I tried to yell and tell her what I had been doing but the water was too loud and she was in no mood to listen, so I showered her with dirty looks all the way back to my grandparent's home.

After stuffing ourselves with turkey and other Thanksgiving goodies and relating the story over and over again for every aunt, uncle and cousin, we finally piled into the car to head for home. Randy and I were hailed as heroes and William was commended, too, for going for adult help.

"Well, I can say this is the best Thanksgiving we've ever had. We have a lot to be thankful for," my mother said, fervently.

Elaine and I exchanged wry glances, confounded by her adult logic. Elaine had almost drowned and she was thankful?

"I lost my shoe," I complained.

Mama laughed, the warm, tinkling sound filling the car. "Well, that's one pair of shoes we'll be glad to buy!"

 

[Beach Bum]

Betty, I am so very sorry for your loss and I will certainly say a prayer for you and your family. Cousins do have a way of becoming special parts of your life and I know you are going to miss him. Prayers especially for that precious grandchild.

[dawneykids]

My cousin, Randy Faucett, passed away today as a result of a car accident. He is the first of our generation in the Marble Hill Georgia Buchanan clan to pass away. There were fourteen of us cousins.

 

Randy had a rough life. He lived hard and partied hardier. In the end, he was the mainstay of his family and was raising a grandchild.

 

I wrote this story about him and my family years ago and wanted to post it to commemorate his life. In my mind, he was always a hero.

 

Rest in peace, Randy, and know that your cousin, Betty, loves you.

 

 

HOLIDAY HEROES

The small, ramshackle house of my Papa Clyde and Granny Ida's was full of aunts, uncles and cousins. The noise had become loud and monotonous. We children were shooed outside as the Thanksgiving turkey and dressing were being reheated and finishing touches to the covered dishes that everyone had brought were being added.

By mutual, unspoken agreement my cousins, William and Randy Faucett, and my sister, Elaine and I headed for the creek. Each time the four of us had met at our grandparents' home we had ventured further and further upstream, fascinated by the rushing, mountain creek-river that became more violent and more beautiful the further upstream we traveled.

The river became almost tamed by the time it reached my grandparents' house, its rushing waters caught and subdued by boulders that had been piled up in years past to make a swimming hole. The swimming hole was used at that time by at least two of the local churches as a 'baptizing hole' for the converts that had been saved during the bi-yearly revivals. I don't think any of the family thought of the river as dangerous--at least not until that Thanksgiving Day.

On that day, we had traveled farther upstream than ever before. The noise of the river became loud and thunderous and we had to yell to each other in order to be heard. Huge, moss-covered boulders made beautiful waterfalls, and we dreamed and played of Indians and hidden gold beneath the cascading waters.

"I'll bet there are caves in the rocks along the banks of this river," one of us shouted, and we all began looking over the high bank's edges for caves. It was then that we discovered the beautiful hidden waterfall. The water poured out from the rocks themselves and was hidden within the concave of an overhanging boulder.

The wonder of it made us bold and we jumped off the edge onto another boulder to get a closer look. However, there wasn't enough room for all of us, and Elaine, my youngest sister, lost her footing. The rest of us watched in horror as she slid down the steep side of the boulder and into the water. Under the constant onslaught of a larger waterfall, her foot had become lodged between rocks beneath the water, and she could not move. She was gasping for breath, having to crane her neck into an almost impossible position to keep her face clear of the water. We knew it would only be a matter of time until she became too tired to fight the cold flood of water. From our position on top of the boulder, it didn't seem as if there was any way to help her.

William immediately ran back to the house to get help. Randy stood there looking as scared and indecisive as I felt. He looked beyond me, toward the house and then back at me. Our eyes locked. "We've got to help her!" I yelled. He nodded.

To this day, I have no idea of how we instigated the plan that came to our minds. I don't remember even telling Randy what we needed to do; he seemed to know without words. He positioned himself at the top of the boulder and held to the top of the ledge. I hung onto him, climbing down him and the rocks. In later years, Randy grew to be a strong, big man, but at that time, he wasn't any bigger than I was. I'm not at all sure how he held both of our weight. Hanging onto his leg, I offered my leg to Elaine and somehow she grabbed my foot. My shoe came off and barreled down the river and she lost her grip, once again plunging under water. She raised herself up and pulled again, wrenching her foot free from the rocks.

Once her foot was freed, she climbed up the rocks, pulling on my body. We could only hope that Randy had the strength to hold us both.

Finally, we all made it to safety and lay on the ledge. For a brief moment, we had been wrenched from our cocoons of childhood, totally silenced by the enormity of Elaine's close brush with death. Finally, Elaine, shaking and driven by her need for warmth, started back to the house, and we followed in her wake.

We were met on the way back to the house by a noise almost as thunderous as the river--the noise of our terrified relatives. William had run into the house and yelled that Elaine was ‘a-laying at the bottom of the creek’. My Papa, who was closer to 300 pounds than 200 pounds, had run the entire way and stood practically doubled over gasping for air, cursing between gulps. Elaine was grabbed up into a huddle and transported back to the house, the rest of us forgotten. I looked back at the river and suddenly, through the crystal clear water, saw my shoe that had been pulled off of my foot, resting on the river bottom. Looking to my side, I found a solution for retrieving it. I picked up a long stick and lay flat on my stomach and almost had reached it when I was yanked unceremoniously away from the water.

"Good grief, Betty! Do you want to drown?" My eldest sister, Nancy, admonished me and drug me along the path after the retreating cloud of relatives. I tried to yell and tell her what I had been doing but the water was too loud and she was in no mood to listen, so I showered her with dirty looks all the way back to my grandparent's home.

After stuffing ourselves with turkey and other Thanksgiving goodies and relating the story over and over again for every aunt, uncle and cousin, we finally piled into the car to head for home. Randy and I were hailed as heroes and William was commended, too, for going for adult help.

"Well, I can say this is the best Thanksgiving we've ever had. We have a lot to be thankful for," my mother said, fervently.

Elaine and I exchanged wry glances, confounded by her adult logic. Elaine had almost drowned and she was thankful?

"I lost my shoe," I complained.

Mama laughed, the warm, tinkling sound filling the car. "Well, that's one pair of shoes we'll be glad to buy!"

Sounds to me like you Mom knew when to be thankful, so many people don't. I loved your story and what a great memory you have. I'm sorry about your cousin...may he rest in peace. I hope peace also finds you at this sad time.

 

[SEvans]

So sorry for your loss...Prayers for your family. I have to add...that was an incredible story. You are a gifted writer.

[NY Gal]

What a great story, and an even better memory. I am so sorry for the loss of your cousin. May he rest in peace. Keep the memories alive forever!

[Jetsmom]

Your story beautiful and made me cry. We grandchildren had many similar trips off onto the farmland of my grandparents. We always made it home.

 

So sorry for the loss of your cousin. I am glad you have wonderful memories of him.

[dj54]

What a wonderful story! My condolences to you and your family.

[cmdudley]

Great story. Sorry for your loss.

[Mamma Smitty]

So sorry for your loss! Your story is just beautiful!

[LogRock]

Sharing your story is a beautiful way of remembering him.

 

(You are a really good story-teller!)

[XTREM99]

That was a wonderful story. I am also sorry for your loss. Atleast you still have that wonderful memory and I am sure, many others to go with it.

[shortnsassy]

Thanks for sharing that story. You are a great writer. I am sorry for the loss of you cousin.

[tess]

that story takes me back to the days all the family gathered and played games, eating, & hearing all the family news & gossip...

Thanks for sharing & bringing back the memories of my youth...

RIP to your cousin....prayers for you and his family....

[West Metro Realty]

Thank all of you that sent my family prayers and well wishes.

 

I want to correct one thing that I put in my original post, which leads me to think long and hard about how families don't get together and keep up with each other as the years go on. Randy actually was helping to raise two step-grandchildren, not one grandchild.

 

The last time I saw Randy was in the last year at another family funeral. Several of us cousins sat in the funeral home and caught up with each other. I was glad to see that Randy was doing well and seemed happy with his family.

 

The last memory I have of Randy was when he was outside as I left the funeral home. His step-granddaughter was outside with him. I stopped and spoke with her as she swung around on a gate and skipped around him. I told her that she needed to take care of my cousin because he had always been my favorite but not to tell the rest of them. He was laughing when we waved goodbye. That is the picture I have of him in my mind now.

 

Pray for his family as they go through the next few days.

 

And again, thank you for all the good thoughts and wishes.

 

Betty Fann Sparti