Golden Jubilee 1959- 50 years -2009 The Virginia Tech ENTOMOLOGIST m part en e t o D f h E c n e t o T m a i o n i l o g g r i y V 50 1 9 959-200 Dedicated to the memory of our rst Department Head James McDonald Grayson “Eulogy for Daddy” delivered by Nancy L. Grayson, March 10, 2008 On behalf of my sisters, our mother, and the rest of our family, I want to thank you – each of you – for being here with us today to celebrate the life of a man who was incredibly dear to us and, I suspect, most of you as well. So many people have come up to us in recent years to tell us how much they admired and appreciated daddy. They’ve recounted wonderful stories that we’ve loved hearing. Almost invariably, what has come through most strongly in these stories and memories is his deep integrity, his fairness in dealing with people, and his lack of pretension. Daddy really did value people for their character and accomplishments, not for their looks or their money or their social standing. He didn’t have much truck with people who put on airs or thought overly well of themselves. He had a particularly fine sense of proportion regarding life’s values and priorities that stemmed in part, I think, from his upbringing in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. Daddy grew up on a farm near Austinville in Wythe County and, for the first eight grades, went to school in a one-room schoolhouse. The schoolmaster, by the way, was Hobart Porter’s father (the grandfather of Diane Porter Goff and Beverly Porter Simpson, whom I’m sure a number of you know.). To attend high school, Daddy had to take the ferry across the New River to the tiny community of Ivanhoe. He graduated valedictorian of his high-school class of three. The Grayson farm in Austinville was close to the banks of the New River. I’m delighted to tell you that two parcels of land near the Grayson farm are currently being brought under conservation easement, so at least some stretches of this land that Daddy loved will be preserved in much the way he remembered them. My father had a lifelong fascination with the New River. In a reflective moment several years ago, he remarked to me, “Sometimes I think the New River belongs to me”. And I said, “ Well, in a way it does, Daddy, because it’s been so much a part of your life”. He swam across the New River at the age of seven – to the great horror of his mother. He fished and canoed it throughout his life. Daddy had a spiritual bond with the rivers and mountains of Southwest Virginia. He was the kind of naturalist that you don’t see too much anymore – one whose love for nature and broad knowledge of the natural world came from spending so much of his childhood in it. Later, of course, he studied biology and then entomology, but I’ve always thought that his ability to identify almost any plant or animal we’d see in the woods owed as much to his boyhood explorations as it did to his formal training. Hiking with him was a joy, because he knew so much and took pleasure in sharing his knowledge with us – unobtrusively, without lecturing. I have to say, though, that hiking with Daddy was no easy stroll. He had a long stride to begin with, and he’d grown so accustomed to navigating the brushy, hilly terrain here quail and grouse reside that it was hard to keep up with him. He was a bird hunter for most of his life – and a very skilled one. He was never interested in the tamer, more sedentary kinds of bird hunting – only the challenging kind through briary thickets on steep mountainsides, in search of what he called “the king of the upland game-birds”: the ruffed grouse. Mama tells the story about one of these hunting trips, when he invited someone fairly new to the entomology department to accompany him. (I’m not sure who it was.) His hunting partner was half Daddy’s age, but he returned exhausted. He looked at Mama and said, “That man doesn’t walk up those hills; he runs!” My sisters and I were extremely fortunate to have a kind and loving father, one who always took great interest in our activities and loved us unconditionally. (Even through our less- than-attractive stages, he thought we were beautiful, and he made us feel that we were.) Many of our close friends when we were growing up called him “Uncle Jimmy”. He found time to talk and joke with them and was always ready for an excuse to take a group of us and our friends out for popsicles or milkshakes (Daddy loved milkshakes) or to Lakeside Amusement Park. He took us swimming regularly at Tech’s War Memorial pool, followed by trips to the “Dari Delight” for soft freeze; and we also made frequent trips to Claytor Lake. Daddy was a smooth, powerful swimmer, who always preferred lake swimming to the confinement (and the chlorine) of pools. Even though Daddy had no sons (no biological sons), he was a mentor and a kind of surrogate father over the years to a number of young men who loved the out-of-doors. And this father of four daughters really enjoyed his five grandsons, who in a sense became the sons he never had. He took them canoeing and fishing and afterwards taught them how to clean fish and extract the roe. He took them to Tech ball games and also pitched balls to them in our backyard. (In his day, Daddy had been quite a good baseball player; he was a pitcher). My son remembers trips to Claytor Lake and Hungry Mother State Park with his grandparents. He says that some of his fondest memories are of times he spent with them. Growing up, my sisters and I knew that our father was a “softer touch” than our mother. We’d approach Mama about something we really wanted, and often she’d say ‘no’ on the basis that it seemed unnecessary or extravagant. So when Daddy would get home, we’d try to do a “divide and conquer” routine. He would listen to our complaint, and then he’d talk privately with Mama. She told us years later that he’d say something like, “They’ve been good girls; don’t you think we could make an exception in this case?” After discussing it with him, Mama would usually agree. Then, instead of taking credit himself for the reverse decision, he would have Mama tell us. It was important to both of them, in matters such as this, to speak with a unified voice. There’s simply no way that we can talk about James Grayson as a man and a father without paying tribute to the love of his life, our mother. They were married for 62 ½ years, and their love grew only stronger as the years progressed. Mama said to me several months ago, “I’ve had a wonderful life”. She then related it directly to Daddy; “He’d come home from a trip abroad”, she said, “to Europe or Australia, and say he wanted to go again, with me”. She talked about how supportive he’d been throughout their marriage. One day she told Janet Turner that regardless of how much time she and Daddy could have together, “it would never be long enough”. In their last years together, they remained remarkably close. Margaret became “Margarita”, Daddy’s affectionate name for her; and whenever she walked in the room where he was sitting, he would motion for her to come over to him. He’d give her a kiss and then whisper to her, “You’re the best buddy I’ve ever had”. We witnessed this countless times, and it never failed to bring tears to our eyes. Daddy adored Mama, and she him. We never – not once – saw her lose patience with him. Our parents shared a deep and abiding love, and I feel certain that Daddy’s tenacious will to live was tied closely to his reluctance to leave his Margarita. The one dimension of James Grayson’s life that I’ve not yet mentioned was his distinguished professional career. His pioneering work on insect resistance was nationally and internationally known. He was the guiding force behind the establishment of Virginia Tech’s Department of Entomology in 1959 (it had previously been part of Biology), and he led the department successfully through its first twenty years. His work as a research scientist, teacher, and administrator was enormously important to him. Judging from comments and stories we’ve heard, the integrity and fairness so evident in his personal relations carried over into his professional life as well. He cared deeply about the welfare of his department and its faculty and students. Just as he was “Uncle Jimmy” to his daughters’ friends, he was known affectionately as “Daddy G” to scores of graduate students, whom he took under his wing. Nor was this feeling confined to grad students. Michael Kosztarab wrote a lovely note to us a few days ago, saying that “Jim was, for many of us in this community and especially in his department for 25 years, our adoptive father, who helped us whenever we needed assistance”. The main speaker at Daddy’s retirement banquet in 1979 noted that “you, Jim, have led this department through an exciting but complex time in the history of entomology … by your example of forthrightness and integrity, you have molded the faculty and staff into an integrated, harmonious team”.