Immigration to America was once a Noble cause. Nothing like today where people are coming over here for free housing and free medical and free schooling, basically to take advantage of a failed government. At one time immigrants to America came to work and make contributions to the greatest nation in the world. The last thing our early immigrants wanted was to have to survive on government handouts. Today millions illegally cross into the United States each day for less than honorable reasons. Some come to terrorize and steal from our citizens and do harm to the country, while others come because their native countries are run by illegitimate Communist or Socialist Dictators. In other words, countries that are starving and seeking ways to receive more U.S. dollars to perpetuate these failed regimes.

– This is [partly] the story of how some of the Newman’s migrated to America in the 1600’s to work, prosper, and accomplish all things only by their very own hands –

In 1633, a 49-year-old Englishman from a village Northwest of London named Thomas Newman, along with his wife Mary Moorton, and their son John all boarded a ship bound for the “New World” named the “Mary and John”.  That ship landed in the young colony of Virginia.  My father’s early descendants to America settled near Boston, Massachusetts as well as what is now Stamford, Connecticut.  I found it interesting that many of these early descendants listed their occupations as “Watchmakers” as well as “Reverend”.  This clan of Newman’s would eventually migrate South over the next two hundred years into Virginia, Kentucky, North Carolina, Oklahoma, and lastly, Texas.

My grandfather (Peyton Auburn Newman, a Coalminer born in Ashland, Kentucky) and my grandmother (Inez Simpson from Bryson, Texas) settled their family in Schulter, Oklahoma.  When Earl came along he was the youngest of the five children and the only boy.  When he was around the age of six months, the family home was destroyed by a tornado but luckily no one was home at the time.  Afterward, the family decided to join other relatives who had relocated to the growing community of Houston, Texas.

In 1937 only two high schools were open in Houston, namely Austin and Lamar.  My father graduated from Austin High School in 1940, and unlike me, he was a high school sports standout – playing both Guard on the Basketball team and Guard on the Varsity Football team.  He always kept his high school yearbooks near, so one could say he was “true to his school”?  Some years ago he reminisced that his fellow teammates always stayed in touch, and added that only he and two other players were still alive from that football team.  I asked him for an update on that more recently and he confirmed that the only other player besides him on the football team had passed away last year, and I responded with “well I guess You Won!”  [As I recall my comment was met with an ungracious smile.] The fact is, my Dad had become the lone survivor of his Austin High School Sr. Varsity Football squad of 1940.  How lucky he was I thought… either that, or God wasn’t finished with him yet? 🙂

After high school Dad attended The University of Texas for a brief time before joining the U.S. Navy as WWII was just getting underway. Most of his enlisted time was spent aboard two aircraft carriers commissioned in the South Atlantic.  These vessels were used as refueling stations for the many Allied bombing efforts over Western Europe.  Aboard a vessel, and at the young age of 24, he suffered a detached retina in one eye that proved irreversible back in those days.  He would spend the remainder of his life only seeing out of one eye and was soon medically discharged from the U.S. Navy.

Returning to Houston he found that many of his old friends were attaining prominence in business ventures and the town had grown into a major city in Texas.  Friends were as important as “family” to him and his circle of friends was enormous.  I remember when growing up fielding many phone calls from his long lost friends attempting to reconnect with him, and he always had a story to tell about each of them.  He was a lucky man to have acquired such a large network of supporting friends, and to have a family that loved him.

Growing up for me and my sister in our household meant waking up on most weekend mornings to the sound of a screeching power-saw.  In fact, sawdust was this man’s trademark and he made tons of it in the garage.  [Dragging that inside the house was not a fun exercise for my Mom.] Dad undertook endless home renovation projects including rearranging walls as he took pride in his constant carpentry upgrades.  He also worked as a carpenter in the 1960s, building custom kitchen cabinets for homes in the “Meyer Land” subdivision.  However, his main forte’ and permanent career turned out to be in Outside Sales working for a good friend he had met years earlier, Corbett.  Corbett’s father had founded a company that became a leading manufacturer and supplier of steel screen for water well extraction.  I remember Corbett, who was never at a loss for words, once telling me “Your Dad sees more out of his one eye than most people will ever see out of both eyes” – which turned out to be true!  We can all attest to the fact that not much ever escaped this man’s acute vision when he was around. I will always remember him as a high energy, hard-working man but a strict disciplinarian around the house.  I would have to say that he was a generous man whose value system revolved around the principles of trust, truth, and an abundance of “common sense”.  He also possessed a rare “sense of humor”, which he relished in, and we laughed together quite often.

Back in my junior and senior high school days I remember him traveling out of town constantly for two, even three weeks at a time.  His sales job required that he travel extensively throughout the United States and abroad, sometimes even sending him to Europe and Asia.  His constant traveling and being away from home became somewhat routine for my mother, my sister and me.

Many years later, Dad would survive both prostate and colon cancer.  At the age of eighty I remember him telling me that if he were to die tomorrow he would have no regrets adding that he had done more in his life and seen more things than he ever thought imaginable for a boy growing up during “The Great Depression”. So Earl Newman, upon reaching the age of 93, had outlived his immediate family and just about every one of his personal friends.  His legacy will be that he embraced his creative talents and cherished his family and friends over anything else.  To the end he expressed his gratitude for how lucky he felt his life had been, and that in his opinion, he had lived in “the best of times”. My Dad even read this Eulogy I wrote before he passed away. Remember, I told you how lucky he was?