Harvey Russell, known around church as the Major, passed away this morning. Harvey, we will miss you! Harvey was retired military, old school, kind of a lonely man. He adored being head usher, a job the rest of us reluctantly take turns with. He puffed up like a peacock and happily stood at the back door every Sunday greeting everyone as they arrived and organizing the ushers in the little book he carried around.
Victoria and I often sat in the back with him. He’d whisper to us during the service. Only, his hearing wasn’t too good and it wasn’t quite a whisper and heads would always turn. One week I told him that I’d just noticed when I sat up front the week before that the church has some funky accoustics and Can You Imagine! whispering in the back carries right to the front of the church?! Lightening didn’t strike for telling that little white lie in the church but it saved his feelings and after that we kept a pad of paper for notes instead of whispering.
He fell at church last summer before service began and his wrist was swelling up like a balloon. The men tried bulling and we women were clucking over him, trying to get him to go get it xrayed, settling for a bag of ice when he refused to budge before the service was over. An officer does not abandon his post in the middle of a mission and he was not leaving before his job was done! He drove himself home, called his son and went to the ER. His wrist was broken as was his hip. He had the hip replaced but never really got out of bed again and gradually gave up and declined until he passed in his sleep this morning.
