[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 160 (2014), Part 7]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 9542-9543]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                    HONORING THEODOSIA MURPHY NOLAN

                                 ______
                                 

                            HON. TIM GRIFFIN

                              of arkansas

                    in the house of representatives

                         Thursday, June 5, 2014

  Mr. GRIFFIN of Arkansas. Mr. Speaker, today I submit the homily of 
Theodosia Murphy Nolan, a legendary Arkansas businesswoman and 
philanthropist, delivered on May 28, 2014, and authored by her godson, 
the Reverend Doctor Christoph Keller III.

       Theodosia; from theos (God) and dosis (gift). ``Gift of 
     God.''
       As Jesus was passing through Samaria, he met a woman at a 
     well. Thirsty, he asked for water. ``Who are you,'' she said, 
     ``a Jew, a man, asking me, a woman of Samaria, for water?'' 
     That's when he said: ``If you knew the gift of God, and who 
     it is that asks you for a drink, he would give you living 
     water.'' If you knew the Gift of God. If you knew Theodosia.
       If you knew Theodosia, then you know the story; that her 
     father was already forty-five, her mother thirty--old for 
     those days--when they married; that in the first two 
     pregnancies, they lost their baby. Now came a daughter, 
     beautiful and healthy. With thankful hearts, they named her 
     Theodosia.
       You know that she grew up gentle, respectful and devoted to 
     her parents, but not meek; that at sixteen, she owned and 
     flew an airplane, setting a dangerous example for her sister, 
     in the opinion of my father; and that at eighteen, she 
     married William, over objections from her parents. She was 
     too young; about William, there were questions. As she stood 
     her ground opposite her parents, she was being every inch 
     their daughter. Firm and loving, they gave their children 
     rope to make and accept the consequences of their own 
     decisions. It was her life and she would get to live it as 
     she saw fit.
       So how did she live it? As a firm and loving wife and 
     mother, devoted to her family--and with William, who was a 
     keeper.
       If you knew Theodosia, you know Bubba. For our guests, 
     Bubba is our term of endearment for Bertie Wilson Murphy, 
     Theodosia's mother. I guess Charlie Nolan must have been the 
     first to call her that. Eventually, Bubba was her name to 
     everyone in El Dorado.
       When Bubba died almost forty years ago, Theodosia--now 
     ``Dosia,'' thanks to Diny--assumed the matriarchal mantle for 
     our wider family, including siblings Charles, Polly and 
     Bertie, plus all their progeny and in-laws. Ours has been a 
     fruitful, multiplying clan, now sprawled out across the 
     planet from Seattle to Beirut. The family center, though, is 
     here in El Dorado: 900 N. Madison, where you can dangle your 
     feet in the pool, sucking scuppernongs and muscadines.
       If you've read King Lear, or Faulkner, or Genesis and 2nd 
     Samuel, or the Wall Street Journal, or watched Dallas, then 
     you should know that life in families isn't simple, 
     necessarily.
       Theodosia, however, doesn't bring to mind the complexity of 
     family life. She represents its grace. It was Robert Frost 
     who said: ``Home is the place where, when you have to go 
     there, they have to take you in.'' True enough, I suppose, 
     but it doesn't capture Theodosia. With her, you wanted to go 
     there and she wanted to take you in. She wanted to feed you a 
     heart-healthy breakfast: quail and scrambled eggs, Talla Bena 
     sausage with a side order of bacon, pancakes with Ribbon Cane 
     syrup (maple syrup only if you begged, served with a slight 
     frown of disapproval). She wanted you to plop down beside her 
     on the couch, get comfortable, and tell her the latest 
     chapter of your story. She would know that you weren't 
     telling her the whole truth. You would know that, even if you 
     did, she would love you. There was nothing you could do or 
     say that would warrant expulsion. You were family, period.
       A word to my younger Nolan cousins: I used the word 
     ``grace.'' If you have heard that word and wondered what it 
     means, then think of where you stood with Dosia.
       Remember your worst day. You know that on that day she 
     still loved you. That is grace. Jesus made that point through 
     parables, like the prodigal son returning to his father. You 
     can understand the father in that parable just by knowing 
     Dosia. Once you understand that father, you know God.
       The force of Theodosia's presence and example on our family 
     history is impossible to calculate, but I am thinking that 
     her impact was enormous. After everything, and no small 
     thanks to her, we know our family as a blessing. We won't let 
     it be less.
       If you knew Theodosia, you know that, not only was she 
     devoted to a family, she was devoted to a place: El Dorado, 
     Arkansas.
       Let's think on this place. Growing up in Arkansas, we learn 
     early on of our three distinct geological regions: mountains 
     to the north and west, delta to the east and, in between, 
     spreading south from Little Rock, the gulf coastal plane. Of 
     the three regions, this is the one that seems to have lacked 
     a national identity: Hillbillies, they know, delta planters, 
     they know, but who are we?
       Well, there is a lot of wood, so I will start with that. 
     Wood means deer, and I will mention that. Then came oil. My 
     wife Julie recently took on a project to salvage and restore 
     a Steinway piano at Central High School in Little Rock. This 
     instrument had been purchased for the school in 1927. Julie 
     tracked down the original Steinway distributor's ledger that 
     recorded the sale. That particular ledger page shows 73 sales 
     from throughout the Mid-South. Looking it over, Julie noticed 
     a sale, December 28, 1926, to Bertie Wilson Murphy. When 
     Julie showed me her find, I noticed that, of the entries on 
     that page, no fewer than twenty were to buyers in El Dorado, 
     Arkansas. It made perfect sense! The Busey-Armstrong well 
     came in 1921. Through the twenties, El Dorado was a boomtown. 
     What are you going to do with all that new money? The good 
     citizens of El Dorado were going to purchase Steinways, which 
     we now know is what people did with extra cash before the 
     invention of the bass boat. Just three weeks ago, Julie 
     brought that ledger down to 900 North Madison and showed it 
     to Theodosia. They sat down on

[[Page 9543]]

     the couch beside Bubba's Steinway, and Julie caught Theodosia 
     up on Keller family stories.
       El Dorado's early glory day was back before the great 
     depression. Even then, it would not have been the kind of 
     town that is full of its own importance. There are such 
     places. Great ladies in such places are not called Bubba. I 
     have lived in such places and I appreciated and enjoyed them. 
     But they don't care. They don't need our loyalty and love. If 
     we want the kind of instant self-esteem they offer, we can 
     have it just by living there. They give us that, needing 
     nothing in return. These places are in New York or 
     California. I am told there may be some in Texas. They are 
     not in Arkansas. They are not El Dorado.
       The big oil play petered out and the economics of the 
     region began to favor dispersion: raise your kids and send 
     them off, pack up the Steinways and move on. But El Dorado 
     defied that fate with muscular determination, as well as 
     cultured sensibility and aesthetic flair. Does that sound 
     like anyone we know?
       As much as Theodosia's love for family was unconditional, 
     so was her commitment to South Arkansas. The taxes are a 
     little higher here than Florida or Texas, the lights a little 
     brighter in New York, but she belonged to El Dorado, case 
     closed. She stayed put, as did her brother; and, as they 
     insisted, so did the companies they founded. So Madison 
     stayed too, with Suzanne; and Bill, with Deborah; and Bob 
     with Candi, and in came Claiborne with Elaine; now Raymond 
     with Liza; and back come Mike and Sydney. And now El Dorado 
     is recognized throughout the country as the town where anyone 
     and everyone can get a college education. There are no such 
     towns in Texas, New York or California. El Dorado has an 
     impressive new identity; and a remarkable town square; and a 
     beautiful new school; and a growing reputation for commitment 
     to the arts. Also, the Wildcats are doing well.
       All this grew as much from heart as calculation. This is a 
     little bit like faith. It has to stand the tests of reason--
     in this case, economic reason--and it does, but there are 
     other factors in the blend: appreciation for tradition; 
     memories of loved ones; love of neighbor. As Newman said of 
     faith, belief in El Dorado lives in the desire for that which 
     it confesses. There are things between earth and heaven, my 
     dear Horatio, undreamt of by Investor's Weekly. To Theodosia, 
     such things were real and exceedingly important--and in some 
     small part because she saw them as such, they took hold. 
     Through grace, grit and imagination, El Dorado perseveres 
     against the tide.
       If you knew Theodosia, you know where else her love of 
     place and family coalesced: the Coast and Cherokee. When we 
     say ``coast'' we don't mean the Pacific Palisades, we mean 
     Pass Christian and the Mississippi Sound--waveless, brown and 
     shallow. We couldn't wait to get there: slathered up with Off 
     and Coppertone, fishing from the pier, catching crabs and 
     speckled trout and occasionally a stingray; swinging in a 
     hammock with a good or trashy book; zooming up and down the 
     Gulf Coast Highway; eating better than kings. All that, we 
     lost to Hurricane Katrina. Even the house that Bubba built 
     couldn't hold against that primal tide. Safely inland, 
     Cherokee endures.
       If you knew Theodosia, you know that, as we reckon long, 
     she lived a long time: from Model T to Prius. Not that she 
     would drive a Prius: she belonged in Thunderbirds. She lived 
     through social revolutions. I always knew what Polly Keller 
     thought about those revolutions as they happened. I also had 
     a solid take on William Nolan's views, which reliably ran 
     opposite to Polly Keller's. Theodosia held her opinions 
     closer to the vest. She seemed neither restless with the way 
     things were, nor much disturbed by the thought that they were 
     changing. There would still be town and family to attend to, 
     come what may.
       I do know that in 1966 she supported David Pryor's run for 
     Congress in the Fourth District, because I read that in his 
     book (actually, my son Christoph read the whole book and 
     showed this to me. I read only the two or three sentences 
     concerning Theodosia.) In the primary, Charles Murphy was 
     backing Richard Arnold. (Show me a congressional election 
     from New York to California that involved such commendable 
     opponents.) The battle went to Pryor and Theodosia over 
     Charles and Richard Arnold. As I said, meek she was not.
       Watch over thy child Theodosia, O Lord, as her days 
     increase. Bless and guide her, wherever she may be.
       If you know Theodosia, you know her faith: Methodist, with 
     the occasional Episcopal accoutrements; and you know that she 
     called her children, and their children, and theirs, on their 
     birthdays, to pray with them from the Book of Common Prayer.
       Strengthen her when she stands, comfort her when 
     discouraged or sorrowful . . .
       Well, certain aspects of that prayer are no more applicable 
     to Theodosia. She leaves sorrow and discouragement behind. 
     She leaves you, her beloved family, with that prayer, to say 
     for one another as you carry on. As you say that prayer, as I 
     know you'll do, you will think of her. As you think of her, 
     remember her in faith. The faith in that prayer imbues our 
     attitude towards place and family--actually, our attitude 
     towards everything, Theodosia's death included. At least, it 
     should; and for her, it did.
       This place, First United Methodist, was the church through 
     which she lived that faith through all her many years. Here, 
     she commended the souls of Charles and Bertie her parents; 
     William her husband; Charles her brother; and Bill her son, 
     to the good Lord who was grace itself, incarnate.
       If you know Theodosia, you know that, good Methodist that 
     she was, her faith in Christ was first and last a matter of 
     the heart.
       She had a good one, didn't she. She was a gift.

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