Free at last

Willie Mae Harris, affectionately known as “Miss Willie” during 35 years as a model inmate in the Arkansas Department of Corrections, was scheduled to finally step into freedom this past Friday after Gov. Asa Hutchinson granted her clemency earlier this spring.

The black, blind 72-year-old grandmother who became beloved for her willingness to tutor inmates in literacy and help mentor Christian oriented programs as her eyesight faded has been approved by the state of Texas to live with family members in Dallas.

Her attorney Lee Eaton said, “Willie’s Christ-like spirit of compassion, forgiveness and love is why the 11 years I’ve worked with her are among my greatest.” Willie’s comment: “I just feel so grateful for all the love I feel from everyone. I can’t wait to be with all my babies.”

A GoFundMe account has been established for those who want to assist Miss Willie: tinyurl.com/misswillie.

Helping financially with her fresh start is a proper welcome back to the free world for this selfless lady who will become an asset to any community she calls home. Godspeed, Miss Willie. And thanks to Gov. Asa Hutchinson, who did the right thing. Quality over quantity

I’ve written over the years about the remarkable lifelong relationship between my kindly uncle Kenneth Masterson and his sweet wife, Bobbie, who recently celebrated 72 years of loving marriage.

Now 93, Ken sold their home in Southaven, Miss., a few years back and they moved into an assisted-living facility. Bobbie’s dementia had grown progressively worse and Kenneth found he could no longer adequately care for her and maintain their comfortable home.

What wasn’t missing in their relationship that raised three natural children, a fourth adopted through family, and multiple grandchildren and great-grandchildren was the deep love they harbored for each other from the very moment they met as young adults.

The secret to such an enduring and cherished relationship was centered around their steadfast daily devotion to Christianity and their creator. They also never lost respect for each other or took each other for granted.

As Bobbie’s condition worsened, they moved to another care facility with additional skilled care and wound up in an even smaller apartment—a tiny kitchen, small living area, bedroom and bath.

There they’ve remained for more than a year as Bobbie came to know the love of her life and soulmate only as “that man I love,” when she could no longer remember his name.

My uncle’s days were reduced to sitting in front of a television with only “precious memories” of all they had shared over the decades.

On phone calls, he would marvel with a laugh at how blessed he was, having “somehow had lived to be 93 since my three brothers died in their 60s.”

Then covid-19 destroyed even the tiniest lights in Ken’s days. He developed a painful ulceration in his lower back. His grown children were no longer allowed to visit. The few aspects of life that added meaning vanished practically overnight.

His limited joys while confined inside the home—diversions such as bingo, visiting with others and daily meals in the communal dining room— were no longer permitted. Ken’s once razor-sharp mind and quick wit soon began to fade and he increasingly surrendered to spending most days in bed. In that condition, he also began to refuse food or water and became increasingly downcast and confused.

Last week, his youngest daughter, Aletha, told me my favorite uncle had been administered morphine to ease his pain and find some peace. The end was fast approaching and he knew it, even reassuring his children he “was ready.”

At one point, he could be heard mumbling the names of his three brothers as if he believed they were coming for him.

Now to the purpose behind today’s thoughts.

Most of us spend our lives fretting over how long we will live. “Will I make it to 70? How about 80 or 90?” I’m certainly guilty of those questions of longevity.

But while we are pondering the quantity of our remaining conscious hours, it’s easy to overlook what the quality of those final years might be like. In Ken and Bobbie’s case, the last several years, while still loving, have not been fulfilling in most ways. They have suffered mentally, physically and emotionally. Ken progressively lost his beloved partner in conversation and shared memories, even though they’ve sat side-by-side day and night.

After watching their sad decline, I wondered if their lives today are what I want. Given the opportunity, would I choose 80 years of quality existence over additional years under the conditions my cherished relatives are enduring?

Give me quality over longevity. To complete my stay here without any memory of the events and experiences of my lifetime, or to lie in bed praying the tortuous pain will ease, is the worst way I can imagine to close out life’s experience.

Yet it’s a question we each would be wise to ponder as the years slip away.

Now go our into the world and treat everyone you meet exactly how you’d like them to treat you.