11 May 2025 A lifetime of wonder

Posted at 4:16 PMh in Features by

By Vivian Lawson Hogue

When people are best friends for most of their lives, it is difficult to choose their best stories to retell. Some cause laughter all over again; some make your heart hurt.

Carolyn Hazel Lewis and I became fourth-grade best friends in church and in Conway’s Central Grade School. She passed away in 2017, and in my eulogy for her, I spoke of many things we had in common. For example, neither of us had experience dealing with children.

By junior high, she began helping in children’s Sunday school classes. We both began babysitting, too, for 50 cents an hour. If she hadn’t needed an occasional new tube of Tangee lipstick, I think she would have done it for free.  

In the ninth grade, we attended church camps together. They were probably the only times either of us was away from home for an extended time without our parents. We wrote letters to each other before going so we’d get mail at camp. We helped each other memorize the books of the Bible and were chased by turkeys. Meanwhile, back at church, we actually invented a prototype for texting. Using our church bulletins, we formed sentences by circling letters and punctuation.  

By the 10th grade we were noticing boys, but the boys were not noticing us. We decided that better pickings might be in the church balcony where the college students sat. We began wearing two-inch heels, and Carolyn wore dresses with voluminous petticoats. She always did go for bling and fluffy stuff, especially if it was purple. 

Carolyn had a curious tendency to faint in church. I remember once when she was seemingly catapulted out of our balcony pew. A pile of petticoats was about all everyone saw. I motioned to the ushers, and they replaced her upright in her seat. The next time I just stepped over her, brought a cup of water and propped her up against the pew seat.  

We entered the adult choir in the 11th grade. One Sunday, we had a challenging number to perform. I regretted we wore robes because my mother had made a new dress for me. It had a wide belt that fastened with a new product called “Velcro.” We arrived at a high note in the piece and I inhaled from somewhere deep in my diaphragm. I reached the pitch, but the Velcro separated at the same time, creating a sound that was … memorable. Carolyn dissolved into subdued giggles. When we sat down again, I tried frowning at her, but she had laugh-tears rolling down her face.  

The next year it was time to look at the different perspectives of our futures. Taking diverse paths was hard to imagine, possibly because I didn’t have a direction in life, and she knew hers exactly.

She followed hers and I struggled onward, unable to hear her encouragement that everything would be alright. “Alright” arrived in 1982. With my fragile first marriage, two youngsters and no job or training, I heard her encourage me to go back to school. I said, “But I’m 40 years old!” She said, “Save the college algebra for your last class and you’ll be fine!” She knew my weakness, but I owe my 23-year teaching career to her advice.

At that time, our family was still living out of boxes after a house move. It was difficult putting outfits together for Sunday school and church. I managed, and Carolyn and I sat together in our class. These ladies and gentlemen foolishly asked me to do the scripture reading the next Sunday. On that day I rose from my seat with my Bible and walked the short aisle to the front. I don’t recall the scripture, but I began to sense extreme interest from my listeners, so I continued reading with added expression.  

Then I saw a familiar expression on Carolyn’s face. With wide eyes and pursed lips, she discreetly pointed at the floor, upon which was lying my half-slip. It seems I had reached into a box of discarded clothing, and the elastic waist just wasn’t up to one more performance. I finished reading, stepped out of the unruly garment and said, “As Longfellow once said, “I shall fold my tent like the Arabs, and silently steal away.” 

Carolyn was an exemplary educator, greatly admired by thousands. I can say without doubt that she was knowledgeable, widely respected in her field and consistently fair in her soft-spoken manner. She worked and lived not to bring a light upon herself, but to provide some for others. To her son, Mark, she gave the blessing of caring about and teaching children, which he has done from his early youth. He was her legacy she shared with another generation. Her husband, Joe, now deceased, recognized her Proverbs 31:10-31 virtues long ago. In their home they lived together for 52 years by Biblical principles. 

And only in death did they part.

Vivian Lawson Hogue
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