Resources on Wingard Family
I was baptized 65 years ago today. Here, my Uncle John is holding me in his lap. He drove from Memphis to Farmington, Missouri to baptize me on January 10, 1960. At the time, my father was assistant superintendent of the Presbyterian Home for Children of Missouri. Three weeks earlier, just before my second birthday, I was formally adopted into the family of George and Roberta Wingard. Good Presbyterians, they believed the promises of the covenant are for believers and their children. Together, parents and child, share the sign and seal of the covenant – baptism. _____ The toy chest in the lower right corner is the only piece of furniture I possess from my childhood. It gives me pleasure…
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My Dad would have turned 100 today, and I’m thinking about all he gave me. My Dad gave me a home. He loved the orphan. He worked in Arkansas and Missouri orphanages. On his 36th birthday, December 16, 1959, my adoption was finalized. I never knew my biological mother. Thirty years old and unmarried, she chose to deliver me, her fifth child, in another part of the state, away from family pressure to keep me. She had a ninth grade education. I am grateful to her for giving me life, for making a choice to put me up for adoption. And I am grateful for my Dad and Mom for giving me a Christian home. My Dad…
Read MoreAfter family and church, Scouting was the most significant influence in my young life. Fifty years ago today I received the rank of Eagle Scout. I am grateful to my Dad, who encouraged me to join Troop 339, sponsored by his church in Smyrna, Tennessee. In 1974, I moved to Troop 120 in McMinnville, Tennessee. One of Scouting’s primary purposes, Dad said, was to teach young men wilderness survival skills. My Scoutmasters – Mr. Craig, Mr. Justice, and Mr. Van Cleve – led by example, and held me to high standards. They made a lasting investment in my life. I no longer have any formal association with Scouting. In 1973, my troop shared the same commitment to my moral and…
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This morning Lynne and I buried our beloved dog, Jem. For 17 years and 8 months, he brought happiness to our home. His sister, Scout, passed last year. Jem and Scout came to us in 2005 – long-haired miniature dachshunds from a Kentucky breeder. At the time, I was not a pet person, so Lynne let me name them after the sibling duo of our favorite American novel. Willie Morris and my former boss, Jack Cotton, wrote books about their dogs, My Dog Skip and A Dog’s Guide to Life: Lessons from “Moose” respectively. Lacking their literary gifts and keen insights into the canine/human affinity, I’ll make only a few comments. Good parents don’t play favorites. That said, I…
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“Mr. Wingard sure cut our hair short,” recalled Guy. He was speaking about my dad, George Wingard, who served as the assistant superintendent (and barber) of the Presbyterian Orphanage of Missouri in Farmington from 1959-1962. Guy grew up at the orphanage. In the 1990s it was converted to the senior apartments that are now his home. I met him last week before the start of the PCA’s General Assembly in St. Louis. But this wasn’t the first time our paths crossed. Guy and I would have been in church together often during my three years in Farmington. Children weren’t permitted to miss worship at Farmington Presbyterian Church unless they were sick. It was my family’s church home. My Uncle…
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I never knew my biological mother. Thirty years old and unmarried, she chose to deliver me, her fifth child, in another part of the state, away from family pressure to keep me. She had a ninth grade education. I am grateful to her for giving me life, for making a choice to put me up for adoption. Hers was a decision made for me, one that set the trajectory of my life. 61 years ago today – my Dad’s 36th birthday and two days before my second birthday – I was adopted into the family of George and Roberta Wingard. The decision to make me part of their family was wholly theirs. During my childhood and teenage years, they read…
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