Van Nathan Kitchens Junior. We just laid him to rest Saturday. It was about as glorious of an autumn day as you could ask for and the military honors were a solemn and well-appreciated addition to his departure. He would have been pleased to have seen it, and somehow, I’m pretty sure he did.

He had turned eighty-six years old in May and his health had been on the decline for the last several years, but he stayed on his feet as long as he could, although someone in the family told me he had at last resigned to forego deer-hunting this year due to his physical condition. That would have been welcome news for the local deer herd, because even at his advanced age, he was ever a yearly threat to them.

The eldest of a family of ten kids, he grew up with his hands full helping his mom and dad with his younger siblings. His dad worked at odd jobs before settling into being a butane (now days it’s all propane) delivery man, which didn’t pay much, so Van Junior, known as Rip to his family, grew up in a poor family. Once he got grown, he didn’t seem to particularly like talking about his childhood nor adolescence, and that was probably why. Not having an abundance of provender on the table when he was young could also account for his love of hunting and fishing, as it was an extraordinary welcome bounty for the family to bring home some venison or fish – it was mostly catfish back in those days, caught out of a lazy meandering old silt-laden river, the Neches, in East Texas where he spent most of his early years. He became exceptionally good at hunting and fishing; in fact, he was among the best I ever knew. He knew how to cook it up, too.

All of his brothers and sisters remember sitting around the old house late in the evenings as he told them stories – he was especially good at it, and the kids listened attentively to each yarn he would tell them, hanging onto every word. This was in the days before cell phones, neither were there TVs in every home, and certainly not in the Kitchens household, with the much-beloved Pentecostal Matriarch, Billie Jewell who would not even think of allowing a “hellivision” into the house. Looking back, those old Pentecostal believers were right about the TVs. Back when we were having the discussions about the morality of TV, harmless shows like I Love Lucy, and Leave it to Beaver were the staples, but look what it’s morphed into today.

He left home to join the Army while he was still a kid, it had to be an exuberating venture, especially to finally pass the demands of big-brothership on to younger siblings, who I’m sure were ill-prepared for the baton – Rip had grown up with it, so he undoubtedly stepped into great freedom when he put on the uniform. Rip became passionate about his service to the Army and was more loyal to its mission than most.

He grew up with a very special sister, Verna, with whom he had a special bond – more so than with his other siblings, but I guess that sort of thing happens in families, some kids become partners in crime and have closer relationships with each other than with other siblings. As youngsters Rip and Verna together experienced travails that were common to post-depression children. Especially those who happened to be children in families that were another level of poor. They both did well as adults and were able to rise above their meager beginnings. Verna passed away back in 2013 while living in Colorado, and it was a terrible loss to the whole family, but it was easy to sense it being extra tough on Rip.

His first marriage lasted long enough for he and his wife to raise a daughter, Kim, and a son, Van III, but eventually the marriage would fail, and he would go on to meet his special love, Becky, with whom he absconded to Missouri and set up a nice ranch in the Ozarks. After a while he received the tragic news that his son, Van Nathan Kitchens III, had been killed in an automobile crash out in the Colorado mountains. The son was known to the family as Bubba, and everyone in the family knew and loved him. He served in the Army and did a tour in Iraq in at least one of the operations over there. Before the accident took him, he had married and had his own son, Van Nathan Kitchens IV, who I had the pleasure of meeting at Rip’s funeral. Number IV has a son of his own, a handsome, happy toddler and of course, his name is Van Nathan Kitchens V. Rip took Bubba’s death especially hard, as would be expected, a tragic episode in life which only a parent losing a child could know.

Rip spent a lot of his time in Missouri raising beef cattle as long as he was able, then as the late autumn stage of life closed in and age began to catch up with him, he gave up tending the herd, spending his hours reading, or with Becky and occasionally with family members. He had a couple of brothers who also came to Missouri with whom he visited as often as they came by, or he could get up their way. Van was serious about the church business as well. He was a devout Sunday school teacher and was dedicated to the work of the Lord; a stalwart Christian, and he will surely awaken from his rest no longer clad in the decrepit old carcass he wore out here on earth, but in the new eternal form the Lord will bestow upon him.

The blue jays are out this time of year in Southern Missouri, and everything is peaceful as dry autumn breezes waft through gold-gilded hickories standing somberly against the indigo October sky. I go out into the woods a lot in the fall, it’s my favorite season and it reminds of days gone by long ago – an innocent time in life when Rip would take a little scamp, fifteen years his junior, with him to hunt squirrels. That little tag-along was me. He was – and ever will be – my beloved big brother.

We will see him again soon in the company of Jesus.

May God bless all and may you Rest in the blessed Peace, Van Nathan Kitchens Junior.

Special condolences to Becky and Kim.

MK

P.S. Some of the numbers, i.e., junior, senior, IV and V, were mistakenly out of order in the earlier versions they are hopefully corrected in this edit. Sorry.