Wednesday, April 8, 1998

Lowry Molloy

Services for Lowry Molloy, 86, of Lubbock will be at 2 p.m. Thursday in Greenlawn Church of Christ with Jerry Kendall of Clovis, N.M., officiating. Cecil Bunch of Clovis, N.M., will assist.

Burial will be in Resthaven Memorial Park under direction of Sanders Funeral Home.

Molloy died Monday, April 6, 1998, in Methodist Hospital.

He was born Aug. 18, 1911, in Eldorado, Okla. He married Oleta Burk on Dec. 13, 1931. She preceded him in death. He married Dorothy Burk on Aug. 2, 1963, in Clovis. She died in 1995. He married Wilda Wilson in June 1996.

He farmed and worked part-time. He later worked for Hollis Farm Supply. He was a parts and service manager, and he was a store manager. In 1944, he became a John Deere dealer. He was a member of the Founding Board of Central Christian College. He was an incorporator of the Westview Boys' Home in Hollis, Okla., and he served on the board for several years. He was active in the Kiwanis Club in Hollis and the Chamber of Commerce, and he served on the City Council. He moved to Lubbock in March 1958. He moved to Clovis in November 1975 from Lubbock. He returned to Lubbock in September 1997. He served as elder and treasurer of Southside Church of Christ.

Survivors include his wife, Wilda; a son, Kenneth L. of Hayward, Calif.; a daughter, Nelda Thompson of Plano; a stepdaughter, Becky Nemrow of Clovis, N.M.; seven grandchildren; and 17 great-grandchildren.

The family will receive friends at the funeral home from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. today.

The family suggests memorials to Tipton Children's Home of Tipton, Okla., or to Westview Boys' Home of Hollis, Okla.

Obituary ©1998/99 The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal 

Ken Molloy’s Tribute to his father, Lowry Molloy

You got it from your Father, it was all he had to give.
So it's yours to use and cherish, for as long as you may live.
If you lose the watch he gave you, it can always be replaced.
But a black mark on your name, son, can never be erased.
It was clean the day you took it, and a worthy name to bear,
when he got it from his father, there was no dishonor there.
So make sure you guard it wisely, after all is said and done.
You'll be glad the name is spotless when you give it to your son."
-- Anonymous

If it were humanly possible, I would be there with all of you gathered there today to honor my Dad. But I am there with you in spirit. I am on the waiting list for a heart transplant at Stanford Medical Center, and my doctor would not allow me to make a trip — anywhere. My name is Kenneth Lowry Molloy, and I got that name from Dad. My grandmother's maiden name was Lowry, and that name was given to Dad as a middle name. Since there were no surviving males in Grandmother's branch of the family to carry on the name Lowry, it was passed on to me when I was born. I passed it on to my youngest son, and he has also passed it on to one of his sons. So the middle name Lowry will continue.

I want to thank Wilda and my sister, Nelda, for calling me just before Dad's ventilator was disconnected — for allowing me to tell him goodbye. No one knows whether he heard me or not, but I like to believe he might have.

No father on earth was ever respected by a son more than I cherished my Dad. Nelda and I were born in Oklahoma during the Great Depression, and even though we knew that we weren't wealthy, we never appreciated what hard times our parents had faced while we were growing up until after World War II. Dad told us about working in a cotton gin for 20-cents an hour.

We never went hungry — in fact, when we lived on the farm we lived comfortably, considering that we never had electricity or running water or an indoor toilet. But spiritually, we were rich. We received a rich heritage of faith from both sides of the family. It makes me think of the words of an old song:

"My Father is rich in houses and lands,  He holdeth the wealth of the world in His hands!  Of rubies and diamonds, of silver and gold,  His coffers are full, — He has riches untold.

"My Father's own Son, the Savior of men,  Once wandered o'er earth as the poorest of them;  But now He is reigning in glory on high,  Preparing a place for the sweet by and by.

"A tent or a cottage, why should I care?  They're building a palace for me over there!  Tho' here I'm a stranger yet still I may sing:  All glory to God, I'm a child of the King!"

Dad was a hard-working man. As a young man he worked on other people's cars and tractors. Later, he discovered his talent for sales, and worked for a while for the Oklahoma City Times selling advertising space in the newspaper. Then he took a job managing a hardware store and moonlighted driving a propane truck.

But first, last and always, Dad was a good mechanic. Before the war was over, we moved back to Hollis, Oklahoma and Dad became the shop manager of an International Harvester truck and tractor dealership, and soon was made the General Manager. Despite shortages of fuel, steel and tires, by shrewd manage ment and understanding the parts business, Dad managed to turn the parts department into one of the best in Southwest Oklahoma. If he couldn't get a truck and tractor bearing from International, he would research the part numbers and find them elsewhere. Just before the War was over, Dad and a silent partner bought the John Deere dealership at Hollis, and over the years Dad built it into a successful enterprise. Mother went to work at the store and became the parts manager, while Dad concentrated mainly on sales.

Dad was part of the group of men who began organizing a Christian College at Bartlesville, Oklahoma in the old Phillips mansion. That college later became what is now known as Oklahoma Christian University. Later, he served on the original board of directors for Westview Boys Home at Hollis.

It was from Dad that I inherited my mechanical aptitude. As far back as I can remember, whenever I was curious about how something worked — and I had a lot of curiosity — he would carefully and patiently explain in detail just how each part functioned and sometimes he would even help me take it apart and put it back together. He taught me how electricity works — I remember how we would sit down at the kitchen table and Dad would draw out wiring diagrams like some people might sketch out a road map. Later, Dad and I rewired the whole house together. We crawled over almost every inch of that attic pulling wire, drilling holes, and installing switches and outlets.

We repaired tricycles, wagons, bicycles, cars, trucks, tractors and farm machinery together — Dad could fix just about anything! Dad taught me to weld, and how to select tools. When I was growing up, I began working in the John Deere shop as a mechanic's helper when I was about 12 years old.

Dad first began to teach me to drive when I was about seven years old and in the second grade while we lived in Carnegie, Oklahoma. We had an 1935 Ford, and Dad would drive out into the country, turn on an abandoned dirt road, and let me behind the wheel. But I had never driven solo until Nelda and I spent a summer with Granddaddy and Grandmother. Granddaddy taught me how to drive his 1938 Chevrolet. Every afternoon he would send me all by myself to the pasture in that car to drive the cattle to the barn. Grandmother told me that the first time Dad saw me drive down to the pasture, he watched from the front porch as I drove all the way there and back. She said he was so proud. After that, Dad often let me drive our car on country roads.

When I was 15, Dad had some health problems, and the doctors wouldn't let him drive for several months. I had my learner's permit which allowed me to drive with a licensed adult in the front seat, and Dad and I spent most of the summer of 1948 traveling all over western Oklahoma, Kansas, and the Texas panhandle. Those days with Dad are now some of my fondest memories.

Dad was a salesman — a good salesman. I suppose he could sell anything. When we traveled together that summer, I not only spent all day with him in the car, but I went in with him to the customer he was calling upon, and saw him in action. I observed his ethics and honesty in dealing with a customer. We shared hotel rooms and ate together in restaurants. I never heard him lie. In fact, he taught me that if you're going to tell a lie, you'd better have a good memory, because sooner or later, you'll have to remember what you said.

At the same time, Dad was also a fine Christian example as I was growing up. Because he was a song leader, I learned to lead the singing at church. I have sat in his Bible classes and observed what a wonderful student of Scripture he was. I remember when he served the church at Hollis, Oklahoma as a deacon and as the church treasurer. And later after he and mother moved to Lubbock, Dad served for a while as an elder at Southside until after Mother died.

When Mother was dying of cancer, Dad was there for her as much as possible. In 1962, I requested and got a transfer to Reese AFB because of Mother's condition, and Pat or I would stay with Mother if he had to be out of town. He always tried to limit his sales trips to only one or two nights on the road every week. Dad and I grew even closer during that time. When Mother died, Dad and I were standing on each side of her bed, holding her hands.

My youngest son, Glenn, told me years ago how nice it was to be grown and be a friend with your father, rather than just father and son. That was the way I always felt about my Dad. He was my one of my dearest friends, and I will miss him. There'll never come a day when I won't wish that I could sit down and visit with Dad just once more — to ask his opinion or his advice. His advice was invariably sound, and his opinions were well thought out.

Dad also had quite a sense of humor — often a very dry sense of humor.  He loved good, clean jokes — especially Aggie jokes and Clinton jokes. Sometimes we would receive an envelope in the mail with no letter — just a funny clipping or a cartoon. Over the years I've been preaching, I've mentioned and quoted Dad so many times. I often use some of his expressions — like "cafeteria-style religion," and I remember Dad once describing someone as being "so narrow-minded, that his eyes overlapped." I think it was Dad who originally said that Simon Peter suffered from "hoof-in-mouth disease" — he was always putting his foot in his mouth. Dad had something amusing to say about Jesus' parable of the rich man:

Luke 12:16-19 [NASB] "And He told them a parable, saying, ‘The land of a certain rich man was very productive. And he began reasoning to himself, saying, "What shall I do, since I have no place to store my crops?" And he said, "This is what I will do: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years to come; take your ease, eat, drink and be merry.'"'"

Dad always said, "His ‘I's are too close together." What he meant was simply that he talked about himself too much. "I will do this," and "I will do that."

Although I never doubted Dad's love, it was hard for him to vocalize it — just to say, "I love you." For years, every time we spoke by phone, Pat and I would always end the call by saying, "We love you," but he very seldom answered by saying he loved us, too. But we knew he did. He showed it in so many ways.

We'll miss Dad, but we know he is in a better place and he is no longer suffering. He's now with Mother, and Dorothy, and my grandparents, and his good friend, Al Wilson, who was Wilda's first husband.

Another passage of Scripture comes to mind. After King David heard that Abner, the commander of Saul's army, was dead, he said:

2 Samuel 3:38 [NASB] "...Do you not know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel?"

The church — spiritual Israel — has lost a great man. But we know where he has gone. After the death of David's son by Bathsheba, he also said:

2 Samuel 12:23 [NASB] "...now he has died; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me."

Dad's earthly temple has grown old and will return to dust, but his eternal spirit is still very much alive. He is in a better place and can't return to us, but if we are faithful to God, we can go where he is now and spend an eternity with him and with all the other faithful children of God.