Recently I attended the wake of James Harold Bullard, one of my oldest, dearest and best friends. I had forgotten that his first name was James as he always went by Harold.
He and I go back a long way. After the war, I had a job as head stock clerk at Kroger in Collinsville. I got Harold a job working with me and when I left, he got my old job as head stock clerk. Harold, like myself, was an avid hunter and fisherman and we spent a lot of time hunting geese, pheasants, rabbits and squirrels as well as fishing at my cabin on Lake of the Ozarks.
My wife and Harold enjoyed each other’s company and were always teasing each other. Some years back, I spent three months in the hospital. My daughter and her family moved into my house to take care of my wife, who had dementia and at times could be difficult to manage. When I got home my daughter told me of the numerous occasions when she called Harold, often in the middle of the night, and he came over and calmed my wife down.
Harold was a dedicated Christian and lived his faith. No one ever asked Harold for help and didn’t get it.
In spite of the scoffing by people like BND letter writer Jim Walters, I know in my heart that Harold is in heaven. God is always looking for folks like Harold.