Historical Losses
My intention for this space this week was to solicit for some inspiring suggestions for Black History Month which begins in 12 days. I still plan on doing so, but in the wake of losing two giants in the local community—in a much more inciteful manner. Jasper County lost two personalities that serviced, affected and shaped local history—Dr. O.J. Barron and Mrs. Reva Standifer.
As a media professional, I had interviewed Dr. Barron and Mrs. Reva several times each over three decades. Each time learning something new and fascinating about their life and contributions to society.
Dr. Barron and I went wayyyyyy back, long before I became an adult. He was my first dentist. I remember my first time visiting his office located just a stones’ throw away from where I now pen this column. I was no more than five or six and having some tooth pain when my mom loaded me up in the car and drove to Dr. Barron’s.
The steps seemed really steep to me and they would have been for a preschooler. I also remember taking my seat on the brightly floral patterned sofa which was appropriate for the 70s as my mom talked to none other than Mrs. Joyce Sutton. You can’t speak on Dr. Barron’s practice without acknowledging his receptionist, who was there nearly just as long as he was.
I was reserved and observant as a youth, not saying much but taking in everything! And boy seeing and hearing Dr. Barron for the first time was an eye opener. I remember hearing his cowboy boots clicking down the hardwood hallways into my patient room.
And then he appeared—a tall, thin black man with a thick moisturized afro peeking from under his cowboy hat. To accompany his boots, he wore a leather vest and jeans under his white medical coat…it was like he was straight out of the cowboy movies my mom loved to watch, but black.
Dr. Barron introduced himself, smiling from ear to ear. Noting my hesistancy, he explained a bit about who he was and more importantly how he knew both of my parents and wasn’t going to hurt me if he could avoid it. My mom was there so I felt safe. He talked the entire time during my visit, first to my mom and then to me about things that seemed random then but worldly now.
After that visit I decided he was “OK” and would go back from time to time. Nothing changed over a decade or more—not his smile, not his service, not Mrs. Sutton, and not the furniture (though maybe it should have). I grew to love it there for the customer service and the knowledge and entertainment I would leave there with. As I got older, he would sing to me as I waited on the anesthesia to set in. His first ode and my favorite by far was titled “Your Daddy’s Rich and Your Mommy’s Good Looking,” which he said was perfect for me because it was true.
The man had dental and law degrees and was always seeking some higher level of consciousness. He wasn’t afraid to get personal, often sharing colorful details from his experience and not afraid to delve into mine.
As for Mrs. Reva, 104 years of living well was a blessing unto her and those who knew her. My last sit down with her came shortly after her 102nd birthday just before the pandemic began. She was not as mobile as she had been in previous sit downs but she was still herself—to the point, a bit reserved, and always insightful.
Longevity runs in Mrs. Reva family. Her father lived to be 102 and she had two brothers, Leroy and Milton, on the brink of 100 a few years ago. During that last chat, she shared how making it to 102 equaled her father’s years and how it was joyful but also sad. Sad because all of her lifetime friends, with the exception of one at that time, had passed away. That one friend was Odessa Bryant, also a local legend, who died at 102 last February.
I first met Mrs. Reva in retirement. After retiring from teaching, she took to subsituting. I had to be in fourth or fifth grade at the old Washington Park and my teacher was out on maternity leave so in comes this short, robust woman with a lot of stories about life to share. Mrs. Reva was there for months and when the “real” teacher came back I hated to see her go. My older siblings had stories about how Mrs. Reva was a strong disciplinarian back in the day but all I saw was a great story teller with lots of great stories.
From Dr. Barron to Mrs. Reva, it’s so amazing how life can come full circle without you really recognizing it. They were both walking, talking historians who were lovable, loved, and beloved by many. Rest in peace and power.