James Barron and I met my first day on the job. I was fumbling with my key to the employee entrance outside, when I heard the door buzzer, allowing me to enter. After I got off the elevator on the first floor, I was greeted by a smiling, older gentleman at the front desk. He was chuckling as he said, “You must be Mrs. Edwards, I saw you struggling to find your keys in that big bag of yours. Just use the bell next time. I can see you.”(as he pointed at the wall of monitors) Indeed, he could see everything in the building, across the street, and even down the block both ways! He introduced himself as James Barron, and I would come to know him as a dedicated coworker who was outspoken, and a trusted and loyal friend.
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| James Barron, aka "D.G." 4/2/1935 - 6/11/2016 RIP |
We had a bumpy start, however. Mr. Barron, as we always called him, stood about 6 feet, 3 inches, and he could be a bit abrupt in his speech, and sometimes, incorrigible. And maybe because of his extensive employment history and life experiences, especially working with our population - even though retired - he just didn’t take “no tea for the fever!” We butt heads a couple of times, but I was determined to work peaceably with this man. There was just something about him. He reminded me of my father, and I had an occasion to tell him so. He seemed to like that fact. I don’t remember the day or how it happened, but in a short period of time, we became friends.
Mr. Barron had other duties; he was also the driver of the company vans. And he would transport us to training sessions, and when I had business at our main office, he would always volunteer to take me so I wouldn’t have to use my car on the days I drove to work. During our many rides together (I always rode shotgun, it was uncontested on group events) he shared his life story with me. He was born, Don Goodjoines, in Brooklyn, NY, 1935. However, he was adopted as an infant by James and Gladys Barron. He told me he was a grown, married man when he found out about his biological parents. And he went in search of his long lost family members, brothers and sisters. He said he was thrilled to make their acquaintance because the Barrons had no other children. He never met his biological parents; both sets of parents preceded him in death.
When Mr. Barron came into my office last December and told me that he’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, we hugged and wept. I prayed with him and encouraged him. I told him that I would have all my prayer warriors on the case, but because I wanted to keep a certain amount of privacy for him on Facebook, I would use his birth name. He was so appreciative of all the prayers, and he approved of the confidentiality. It was our secret, he said. During his medical leave, we remained in contact - I sent little cards periodically. I spoke to his wife, Barbara, over the phone on a couple of occasions - a wonderful, strong, sister in the Lord.
The day my Mother’s Day bouquet came to the office, it was a bit surreal for me. The note had a beautiful, short message of thankfulness, signed, “Don.” I was overwhelmed - I couldn’t speak. I took them home that day and kept them as long as I could.
Today, they laid my friend to rest. The service was warm and dignified - as he was. I had the opportunity to meet his lovely wife, 4 children, and 2 grandchildren. It was a blessing to be in the midst of all who knew him and love him still. He was our Mr. Barron, here at work. I will remember him fondly as DG.
Please keep the family lifted in prayer for continued comfort and peace.
Thank you for reading.
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