Shorty

Some knew him as “Shorty” but I called him Mr. Ray.  William Ray Bevill was one of twelve children born to Lonnie and Jeannie Mae Bevill.  He was born in Calhoun County, October 18, 1936, a time when some felt it was more important for children to contribute to the family income than to continue education.  Ray’s formal education ended with the third grade.  He never mastered reading and writing, and it was a deficit he regretted.  He often came by the office during my son’s homeschool sessions, and Ray  would say, “Learn your lessons so you won’t end up like me.”

Ray stopped growing “up” at a height of about 5ft 4in – thus the nick-name “Shorty.”  His short stature, a speech impediment which made him difficult to understand, and his humble childhood left Ray with a spirited nature, quick to defend his honor even if it meant resorting to blows.  He learned early that any success he would achieve in life would be earned with great difficulty and hard work.  And, work hard he did.  Ray got a factory job early in life, and eventually retired from MPI in Houston.  After retirement he continued working seasonally as a farmhand. He knew the value of earning a living by the sweat of his brow.

Ray enjoyed the money he earned. He drove a nice pick-up truck that he proudly kept cleaned and polished.   Following Friday paydays for farm hands, Ray was known to flash rolls of cash around town proving to others he could pay his way.  However, not everyone had Ray’s best interest at heart. He was involved in a few brawls over the years, and on more than one occasion had money stolen by unscrupulous characters.

I met Ray when his beloved wife, Sarah, passed away in 1996.  She became ill, had surgery, developed complications and was gone before Ray had the chance to fully process what was happening. Sarah had been the one to keep the family finances and business organized.  They had no children and with Sarah gone Ray was lonely.  The days and weeks following Sarah’s death found him idling at the funeral home, just to have someone to talk to.  His monthly visits to pay his insurance premium became weekly visits.

He often had me sort and read his mail to him.  Ray thought it a great joke to “file” his junk mail into “file 13” – the trashcan.  He also had me make phone calls for him.  Ray was very conscious of the fact that people had trouble understanding him, especially on the phone.  So I scheduled doctor appointments, interceded for him on insurance calls and other business that required him to talk on the phone.  We teased that I was his personal secretary; and over the years, we became friends.

Ray was well known in town.  He often sat outside the local Walmart watching people, and that is where he was last seen the weekend before his death.  When he didn’t make it to church Sunday, and family members couldn’t reach him Monday morning the police were notified to check on Ray.  He was found in his home, brutally stabbed to death.   Ray had obviously resisted the attack, but Shorty was no match for his assailant.

From all appearances Ray interrupted a burglary of his home.  In the struggle that ensued, Ray was stabbed and killed.  Two months after his death, Mitchell Gregory was arrested and charged with capital murder.  By the time a trial was set Gregory pled guilty and avoided the possibility of the death penalty.  He was sentenced to life in prison.

Ray’s life was cut short by senseless violence. And more than one life was destroyed in the violence.  Ray was taken from his friends far too soon.  A 32 year old, Mitchell Gregory, has been locked away for life.  The Gregory family has been left to endure the loss of their loved one, the stigma of having a criminal in the family, the sorrow of knowing their loved one took a life.

Ray left no children, and he was the last sibling of his family; but he left nieces and nephews behind, and his church family at Faith Bible.  And, Ray left behind many friends.  He was a sociable, pleasant man, who lived a simple life, but his death has left a big void in our community.

 

Author: Renee Davis, is a wife, mother, Registered Nurse, and a dedicated Funeral Director/Embalmer. She owns and operates Southern Funeral Chapel, Inc. in Houston, MS with her father, and becomes much too emotionally involved with the people she serves.

Her Final Ride

Southern Funeral Chapel regularly plans final arrangements for some very interesting characters.  Many times the funeral itself is just not sufficient to tell the whole story.  Southern Finale is my place to share “the rest of the story” about so many of the characters we have been honored to lay to rest.  

It is only fitting that the inspiration for Southern Finale be the first life honored.  Eight years ago I prepared a body to be returned home to The Hague, Netherlands.  It was a new experience for me, preparing a body for flight.  I felt a great responsibility for this lovely lady and great sadness that she was alone in a strange country, with no family or friends to accompany her home. I was so stricken by having so little information about her that I began to research her life. The information I was able to find and translate intrigued me.  She was a vivacious, very interesting woman!  Following is a compilation of information gathered from her own newspaper, TROUW, and from comments made regarding her writing.  Because her home paper was published in Dutch, an online translator was used.  The following is as accurate as possible with the information available.

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HER FINAL RIDE

Esther Hageman ~ Picture Credit: https://www.trouw.nl/home/lief-eigenwijze-verhalenzoeker~a18014e7/

Had things been different, she could have passed by our area of the world completely unnoticed.  Oh, she might possibly have stopped in at the local Walmart to gather supplies.  We know she had inquired about the Bridges-Hall Bed and Breakfast on North Jackson Street and the Holiday Terrace Motel on East Madison.  It is conceivable she was planning to rest up in Houston before riding south.  Any number of possibilities could be considered, but as it turned out, she barely made it into Chickasaw County, Mississippi before being stopped short.

Her name was Esther Johanna Hageman, known to her family as “Es.”  She was born in The Hague, Netherlands, August 9, 1957, to Dirk and Wilhemina Hageman, the fifth of five children.  April 22, 2009, Esther was hit from behind by Wendell Blount, as she rode her bicycle on the Natchez Trace, traveling from Nashville to Louisiana to visit friends.  Esther was killed almost instantly.  Blount was arrested and sentenced to ten years in prison for vehicular manslaughter, but he had served less than half his sentence when he died in prison in 2014.

Esther was spirited and independent even from childhood!  She proudly “went her own way” even in her clothing, preferring jeans and sneakers to dresses and heels.  She had a great love for words and learning instilled by her father who had been a teacher, like his father.  Dirk strongly encouraged proper use of grammar and the best penmanship from his children, even when at home.  Esther was so enamored with learning and school that she, at a very early age, pretended to ride off to school just like her older siblings.  At the end of her play she would announce that she had studied hard and learned her lessons well.

Music was a staple in the Hageman household, and became Esther’s refuge in times of trouble.  Her father was an accomplished pianist, and wanted his children to enjoy classical music as much as he did.  He would gather the family around the radio every Monday evening to listen to organist Piet Van Egmond.  Dirk was more than a little frustrated that his children preferred jazz.  Like so many teens in the 60’s Esther became enamored with the Beatles.  She played bass in a pop band, but preferred the piano; and like her brothers, Esther was also fond of jazz.

Wilhemina or “Mina,” Esther’s mother, was well known as an excellent chef.  She was actually working as a cook when she met Dirk.  Mina opened her home to friends and strangers alike, always welcoming them to her table.  She trained her daughters, not only her expertise at cooking, but also her open-arms to those less fortunate.

Esther was well educated, beginning her studies in sociology and cultural anthropology, where she was fascinated with the science, but was less impressed with the instructors.  She possessed the unique ability to see a story in every situation, and eventually turned her attentions to journalism.  Her editorial work was recognized through the years, but she was best known for her work with the paper Trouw, where she was employed at her death.

Esther’s work at Trouw involved immortalizing deceased personalities through the written word in a weekly article called Postscript.   She created vivid, picturesque memoirs of various individuals who she categorized as the very well-known, the less well-known, and the everyday – average person.  She firmly believed that every life had a story to tell, and she was masterful at telling those stories.  Esther’s co-workers found it a bit surreal to have Esther, herself, featured in the Postscript section in May of 2009.

That fateful trip into Chickasaw County was part of a sabbatical from journalism, following the tragic death of Esther’s middle brother, as well as the death of her mother.  Esther left Trouw and her home to actively tour the United States and visit with family and friends.  Bicycling is commonplace in her homeland, but some of her American friends tried in vain to dissuade Esther from bicycling through the U.S. because of the peril she might encounter.  In true Esther form, she researched the Natchez Trace and stressed to her friends that The Trace was commonly traveled by cyclists, and she was determined to enjoy the experience.  Her journal documented a visit to Elvis Presley’s birthplace, and interestingly mentioned how Elvis came to own his first guitar; how he had requested a bicycle for his birthday, but his mother thought it far too dangerous.

April 22, 2009, at the age of 51, the spirited, exuberant life of Esther Johanna Hageman came to an abrupt end on the Natchez Trace Parkway, mile marker 141.  She was returned to her family in the Netherlands to be buried in the General Cemetery of Leiden.  She left behind her sister Jeanne and  two of her brothers, Pim and Cas.  She also left a legacy of independence and freedom, and of her writing, which immortalized the lives of so many.

Had Esther considered the danger and traveled through Chickasaw County in some other fashion we might very well have never known her at all.  As it turned out, I will never forget her.  She died in Chickasaw County, Mississippi, far away from family and friends, but doing what she loved most – exploring the world and researching another interesting story, never realizing that hers was the story that needed to be told.

 

Author:  Renee Davis, is a wife, mother, Registered Nurse, and a dedicated Funeral Director/Embalmer.  She owns and operates Southern Funeral Chapel, Inc. in Houston, MS  with her father, and becomes much too emotionally involved with the people she serves.