REMEMBERING WAYNE

 

Long ago, somebody said, “You may consider yourself lucky if, when you die, you have as many true friends as you have fingers on one hand.”  That may be generally a true statement, but I think the fellow who said it never met Wayne Selph, and so never knew the vast number of people who truly felt privileged to call him “friend.”  Those of us who grew up with Wayne came to take for granted his quick wit and that constant smile, which was like a light that was always “on”, and never dimmed.  But who was this guy, and why did everybody he met have only good things to say about him?

 

He was the guy in the sixth grade who, when he found out I was a very marginal swimmer, took me out in the deep water in the pool, teased me endlessly, and laughed at my awkwardness in the water.  But he was also the guy who made sure the old black inner tube was right there close by, and never let me get too far away from it, and cheered when I started doing things right.  He was so happy for me that I couldn’t help but be happy, too.

 

He was the football player who did his job day in and day out, not trying to be spectacular, but being solid and dependable, playing the game the way he lived his life.  And he was the boy who broke his nose in football in the tenth grade, and for weeks, despite much laughter and good-natured derision, wore an awful-looking bandage stretched from ear-to-ear to cover the end of his nose and keep it “straight”. Did it bother Wayne that we teased him so much about it?  Probably, but did he ever give us the satisfaction of letting us know it bothered him?  No way, Jose.  The only thing that stretched farther across his face than that bandage was his smile.

 

He was the guy right in the middle of things on those Sunday afternoon “mountain-climbing” trips up to the “555 Wrecker” sign out on Bailey Hill.  And he was the guy, who, though not a big baseball fan, helped make it so much fun when we took the Missouri Pacific train to St. Louis to watch the Cardinals play a weekend series.

 

Of course, we mustn’t forget that Wayne was the guy who could always, and I mean always, get the family car when we needed wheels.  Oh, we all had cars or access to cars in our high school days, but we all also-except Wayne, that is--had times that we were “in trouble” or for some other reason couldn’t get the car.  Wayne was as reliable in providing us a ride as he was in everything else he did.

I’ve often wondered how many miles we rode in that green and white 1954 Ford.

 

Wayne was also the guy who dropped out of college to help his family when his dad became ill.  For him, dropping out wasn’t a setback, or a disappointment, it was just something that needed to be done, so he did it.

 

All those times, all those years, all those memories--Wayne was always there, always the same, always dependable, always reliable, always a joy to be with, always with a good word for everybody, always SOLID.

 

It is fitting and important that Wayne will be remembered for setting a lifelong example as a devout Christian, loving husband, father, and grandfather, loyal church member and all-around good citizen.  But those of us who grew up with him want those folks who only knew him later to know that he was all of those things, but so much more, too.  He was a guy who never bore anyone ill will and was consequently loved by all.

 

Yes, you’re truly lucky to have a few really good friends.  But you have been richly blessed if one of those friends was Wayne Selph.  We’ll miss you, friend, but, as always, we’ll look forward to seeing you again.

 

Wayne’s friends from MHS.

By CONRAD LAWSON