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PUBLISHER'S NOTES
MILES WALKER LEWIS
When 1 was growing up we had a revival
at the Methodist Church. Mrs. Harwell
encountered Miles uptown on the sidewalk
and invited him to come to the revival.
Miles, a staunch Presbyterian, replied.
“Woman, if I had a first-class ticket to New
York, you wouldn't come asking me if I
needed a ride, would you?" That was the
first time I understood predestination and
one of many times I saw Miles say just
exactly what he thought, instead of politely
agreeing.
Miles Walker Lewis got away with being
himself, an incredible accomplishment,
especially in a small town, where we all
worry about what other people will think
and we’re very careful with what we give
them to think about. Miles gave us himself.
He said what he thought, whether we liked
it or not, and whether we liked it or not, we
liked Miles. Yes. we loved Miles, because he
let us see the real Miles.
In a town where eccentricity is the norm.
Miles was the eccentric's eccentric. He
wore his penny loafers without socks not to
be “cool" but so that his feet would be cool.
For the same reason he scandalized Chief
Maxey by conducting police court in his
yellow Bermuda shorts and flip-flops. If his
clothes were hanging outside on the line,
and he was inside the house naked, he
wouldn't get dressed just to go get his
clothes. He would just walk out in the back
yard to get his clothes off the line. If Miss
Elizabeth Monfort came cutting through his
back yard on her way to Anita Whitaker's
house, that was her problem.
This family, this town, these people are
filled with Miles stories. You who have lived
with him daily have Miles lore unknown to
those of us who have moved away from
Greene County. If we could add up all the
stories through all his 80 years, we would
have the record of an unusual life. There
would be a lot of
funny stories,
because Mile’s great
sense of humor
included the ability
to laugh at himself.
That he didn’t take
himself too seriously
was disarming. He
was so accessible,
so open to every
body. so lacking in
self-importance that
it was easy to forget
his accomplish
ments: his long
career in the law. his
military service in
two different wars
his political service
— in the Georgia leg
islature and as
Mayor here — his
judicial duties, his
descent from one of the county’s oldest and
most illustrious families, his careful hus
bandry of his own resources to become a
financial success — all those years he was
too tight to turn on the furnace paid off.
Now that we no longer have him with us.
we're left staring at the silver bullet of
memory and asking ourselves, who was
that unmasked man? Who was this man so
open and unassuming yet so deep and com
plex. so lighthearted yet so serious about
life, filled with humor and with compassion,
delighting in books and music and travel, a
quiet, private man who was always out on
the street, always available when some
body needed him. Have you seen Miles?
He’s at the courthouse, he’s at the restau
rant. I saw him at the post office. He’s gone
home.
Miles Walker Lewis was born in
Greensboro, grew up here, went to school
here, slept in the
bed he was born in.
Like Socrates who
was a citizen of
Athens and of the
world. Miles was a
citizen of Greens
boro and was also at
home in the world.
When military ser
vice took him to
Japan, Miles thrived
in Tokyo, as he
could also take
delight in New York
City and Washing
ton, D.C., Atlanta
and Key West. But
his home was
always in Greens
boro, and he was
always at home in
Greensboro. And he
was always there
when you needed him, whether you had a
legal problem or a personal problem. Miles
was always there. This most unsentimental
man cared deeply. What a wonderful man to
have as a brother, an uncle, a cousin, a
friend, a companion.
I think Miles Walker was blessed with an
inner strength, bolstered no doubt by that
Presbyterian ticket in his pocket, and with a
personality that was turned outward
toward others and toward the world
around him. He was intensely interested in
what people were doing, in what was hap
pening in the world, and he did his part in
it, whether it was drawing up a will or
planting a tulip, Miles Walker was hands-on
with the world, pecking at his typewriter,
digging in his dirt and caring for his cats —
Sophie. Feed Mill and the rest.
As we all have, I have thought a lot
about Miles Walker over the years, fasci
nated by him, regaling my friends with
Miles stories — of course that cow would
wander into his swimming pool — trying to
understand what it is that made Miles so
special, such a useful man, such a beloved
family member, such a presence in his
hometown of 80 years. The key to Miles. I
think, the element that kept his wit from
buffoonery, his frankness from meanness,
his cosmopolitanism from coldness was
that Miles Walker Lewis was a lover.
Miles loved actively, intelligently, pas
sionately and compassionately. His love
was giving, sustaining. He didn’t take from
you, he gave himself. When you were with
him, whether in a brief encounter on the
sidewalk or a long conversation after
supper, he gave you something; you felt
buoyed up, increased. Miles loved his
family; he loved Charles, he loved his
friends, and that, ultimately was his
greatest achievement. Because he could be
so fully himself, he had so much of himself
to give. By refusing to compromise the
integrity of his personality, by saying what
he felt and feeling what he said, he lived in
love, steel tipped though it might be.
Pete McCommons
(Remarks delivered at the funeral of Miles
Walker Lewis, January 27, 1999)
Miles Walker Lewis circa 1970 by Elizabeth Turk
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