No Ordinary Joe

Some of us spend much of our lives struggling to qualify, to gain a formal education or certification that will be recognized by some authority and perhaps be our ticket to a career or a better job. This is the story of one of nature’s own, one who was born with an innate understanding, born to plot his own independent course of achievement; shunning authority and formality. This story is about the big brother I never had, my double cousin, Howard Joe Middleton who died unexpectedly on Sunday, May 29, 2011. He was no ordinary Joe.

We grew up in Henryetta, Oklahoma in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s. Since I was six years younger, I saw Joe as a hero figure whose attention I seldom got but whose attention I relished in those rare and special moments when I was in his presence.

When I was just a youngster, he would sometimes greet me with a hearty “Hello Bames” (his pet nickname for me) as he tossed me up over his shoulder and told me he was carrying me like a “sack of potatoes”. While our families were next door neighbors, I was an interested observer as he and other family and friends played sports in our front yard or engaged in snowball fights after building what seemed to me to be the largest snowman I had ever seen.

But the most prominent and indelible image of Joe involves automobiles; his fascination with them and the teenage troubles that resulted from his rebellious nature and penchant for the thrill and challenge of drag racing. These tendencies led to a number of vehicle related incidents including several stripped gears and burnt up clutches. I am sure there was much turmoil and consternation in the house next door over all these problems. But from my point of view, the primary result was the excitement of watching while my dad, Everett, repaired the damages in our back yard at night with help from Joe and his dad, Uncle Robert. These were family affairs with me, my cousins and my sisters providing an audience for the performance as if it were a live production in our own little amphitheater. The memories of cars up on wooden ramps and the glow of the shop light against the darkness of the summer night remain vivid in my mind.

As he matured, Joe developed his expertise in hot rodding. He seemed to always be working on one of his cars. It was an exciting treat for me when he would invite me to go for a spin to demonstrate the effectiveness of his latest modification or adjustment. But Joe was not into custom cars. He was only interested in speed and power. His cars were like him, rugged and fast. These brief rides for me were thrilling and scary experiences as I felt the power of acceleration, the roar of the exhaust, the whining of the gearbox, and the intense heat emanating from the engine. With one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift knob, Joe was in his element and master of his craft.

Joe never needed a college degree or much formal education. He was a natural man; an independent soul, born to discover. His life was a continual quest for practical knowledge of all things mechanical. His classrooms were real life workstations such as under the hood of a car, the locomotive, the aircraft, and the various technical workshops of 20th Century America. Joe was secure in his own abilities and determination; things they don’t teach in school.

He was at once a rebel, a loner, a storyteller, a rambler, and a teacher. I was fortunate to receive guided tours of more than one of his motorhomes which were given rich in detail of each and every feature and accessory. To share these things seemed to be a source of pleasure and pride for Joe.

Here is my tribute to Joe:

No Ordinary Joe

Oh to be a natural man,
To know what I want and pursue it;
To have little need for instruction
Yet be the one to teach and instruct.
No, I am not a natural man,
But I was lucky to have known one,
And to know what one looks like.
I marveled at his talent
And shared brief moments;
Moments of excitement and pride.
I captured the thrill of speed,
Felt the rush of power ,
Caught the racing wind on my face,
And in my life gained inspiration
From the one who knew the source.
The one who never had to ask;
It seems he already knew.
And my life was richer I know,
Because he was no ordinary Joe.

By James Middleton
June 2, 2011