Photos from inside the Old Crockett Theater in Lawrenceburg taken by the late Michael Gladney in 2011.
Here is a tribute to Michael I happen to find
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
~ WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, Julius Caesar
In every small Southern town, there seems to be a man who holds a key to the city, and in my hometown of Lawrenceburg, Tenn., Mike Gladney was that man. Mike loved his hometown of Lawrenceburg, and he took much pride in the protecting, preserving, and the planning of Lawrenceburg, and his contribution and dedication to the people there, all to whom were not only acquaintances but also his friends, is unprecedented.
Mike Gladney was born on Oct. 6, 1958, and he died of a massive heart attack on Oct. 8, 2012. His wedding anniversary to Sherril Perry Gladney, whom he referred to as “his first wife,” was just around the corner. In truth, Sherril was his first and only wife, but Mike had a sense of humor.
His funeral, while sad, was on 10-11-12, and Mike would have gotten a chuckle out of that, although I am sure he would have preferred another year, another time, as would all of his many friends.
Mike loved to help people – the tributes to him are so numerous that this is a testament to his goodness, his commitment, and his loyalty to every aspect of his life. And now that Mike is gone from this world, in reading the testaments, it seems that Mike had the gift of making the recipients of his goodness believe they were the only recipients, and yet it is clear that Mike helped hordes of people in numerous ways.
I got to know Mike back in third grade, where we attended West Highland Elementary School together. Mike was a good kid – I do not recall him ever getting into trouble – but I do recall the shocked look on his face or the snicker or the laying of his head down on his desk, shaking with laughter whenever I got into trouble.
But like the rest of us, Mike was no saint, and he told me something that he did when we were in fifth grade, in Mrs. Crowder’s science class. Somehow, Mrs. Crowder managed to obtain half of a naked female mannequin – she had no legs but the rest of her plastic body was intact, and the mannequin had reached puberty. It was a creepy thing to look at that mannequin with no legs and body parts that we did not have or had not seen at that time. And some kid, being a kid, did something rather predictable, which was the drawing of certain body parts on the naked mannequin with no legs. Mrs. Crowder was horrified but at least the artwork had been done in pencil, and she was able to wash the pencil artwork off and restore the naked female torso to her full glory.
A few years ago, Mike confessed to me that he was the one who did this, and I was surprised, but still I laughed and I felt somewhat validated in knowing that he had a little piece of me in him.
I had many connections to Mike. For one thing, his best friend’s parents were my parents’ best friends, and Mike was often around when our parents gathered at each other’s houses after church on Sunday nights. One night, while sitting beside my mother, Mike reached his right hand up and extended it over his head to scratch his left shoulder, and when he saw his own hand it scared him so much he jumped up from the table and screamed. This was absolutely one of the highlights of my mother’s life, and as she so often said,“I nearly laughed myself to death.”
In our high school years, since Mike was the man who “held the key to the city,” even in our younger days, he allowed me to spend the night in the courtroom on a bench near the back. The next morning, I slipped out at the break of dawn, witnessed by no judge. And if any policeman saw me, he knew me and just waved and said goodbye.
It was like that in Lawrenceburg in 1976. I like to think that it still is.
I could write a book about the tales and antics of Mike Gladney, and I am sure there are many stories of which I am unaware. And yet I was blessed to know him well, and I am thankful for every kind word, every kind deed, and his simple act of “being there” during the hard times when most people, including myself, simply don’t want to face the music. Mike was always there, in bad times as well as good times, and that says much about a person’s character.
I will not say goodbye to Mike, for he will forever live on in my memory and he will always bring a smile to my face. He was the best of the best, and may he rest in peace, love, and laughter forever and a day.
For those of us who knew Mike, these are hard times, and yet Mike would want us to carry on and remember the good times and try to live in the moment, for the moment is all that we have. Mike lived in the moment and he loved most moments, and there is nothing more admirable than that.
https://juliegillenblog.blogspot.com/2012/10/mike-by-julie-gillen.html
