I have many, but I'll begin with the one that occurred first in my own life.
When I was still very young, about 5 or 6 years old, I was very close to my Papaw. He was my great-grandfather, a helluva character and Army vet. I didn't know it then of course but he was a well-respected Mason in the surrounding community. At the time, my immediate family was not very wealthy. Hell, my first bed as a baby was a dresser drawer. Dad swears he just shut it when I cried.
Anyhow, one day in a 8th grade football game, my oldest brother took a heavy blow and wound up on the ground in pain. Coaches convinced him to get up and "walk it off." He managed, somehow, to continue playing but by the end of the night, it was clear something was very wrong. The next morning, he couldn't walk. At the hospital, we discovered that a part of his hip bone had been literally broken off and was just floating about. The doctors recommended immediate surgery to remove the shattered pieces, but two things stood in the way: 1) We didn't even have the money to pay for the hospital visit, let alone a surgery. 2) Surgery or not, the doctors said my oldest brother, my hero and one of our school's best athletes, would never walk again.
I remember, even then, at that young of an age, walking into the living room and seeing my dad, crying, for the first time. Years later, anytime we pull out home videos, there's always the one where TW, my brother, wheels into the living room for Christmas. And he gets up and maneuvers around with some crutches, clearly in pain. My dad still cries every time he sees that video. Now, here is where Freemasonry came into play. My Papaw, being a Shriner and Scottish Rite member, told my folks they should take TW to the Scottish Rite hospital to see if there was something they could do.
As you'll recall, we had no money. And my dad's pride nearly kept him from going through with it, but eventually, he swallowed it down and made the trip. Not only did the Scottish Rite doctors agree to do surgery, but they provided a completely different outlook than the previous doctors. Now, we were told, surgery would remove the pieces and after a great deal of rehab, TW would walk again.
Today, TW and I both have become competitive bodybuilders and mixed martial artists. He can walk. He can run. He can kick you in the side of the head or squat a quarter ton for reps. Why? Because when a poor family was backed into a corner with nothing else to do, the Scottish Rite gave us an out.
Years later, when I turned 18, my great-grandfather passed away. I had been very close to him and his wife and in an effort to find out more about who he was, I visited old Waco 92 to learn about his old organization. I think it's safe to say I may have never become a Mason if it weren't for the above story. As of yet, TW is not a Mason himself, but just last week he expressed interest and I expect him to visit the Lodge within the month.
