Jim Nabors
Jim Nabors changed my life. No kidding. In June of 1970, my family moved to Weirton, a town in the northern panhandle of WV about 25 minutes from Pittsburgh. I began my junior year of high school that fall. I was skinny as a rail, nearsighted, wearing the ugliest glasses ever seen in that part of the world, and talked funny. Oh, yeah, I talked funny. I had grown up in the coalfields of southern WV, and my accent was more pronounced back then. "Low and slow" is a good description, and I have a cassette tape somewhere to prove it.
It didn't take long for a classmate to dub me "Gomer." I wasn't crazy about the nickname, but I endured it. When you're a preacher's kid, you learn to endure things. I added Gomer's catchphrases "Gah-all-lee" (Golly) and "Shazam!" to my vocabulary. When people laugh at you, laugh with them. It's more productive than fighting.
The school year didn't start well. Everything was strange, from the area to the accents to the course work. Algebra II was a disaster. I never liked math because I'm allergic to repetitive homework. Three weeks in, I was allowed to drop Algebra II and join a class called "Introduction to the Organ." I could play piano a little, so I enjoyed the class.
The last day before Christmas break, Mr. Knierim, the teacher, asked us if we wanted to sing carols. We agreed, and ran through the usual songs: "Rudolph," "Silent Night," "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting Over an Open Fire)," etc.
Then a classmate decided to be funny. He turned to me and said, "Hey, Gomer. Sing one."
Going along with the not-so-humorous joke, I asked the teacher to start playing "Oh, Holy Night." I sang the first line with something approaching a supported -- some call it operatic -- tone. I didn't get to sing the second line.
Mr. Knierim stopped playing. With a look on his face I have never forgotten, he asked a fateful question: "Do you know you can sing?"
"No, sir. I'm just imitating Gomer Pyle." Sure, I played guitar and sang a little in church, but had never used a supported tone. I was kidding around, trying to sound like Jim Nabors.
With Mr. Knierim's help, I was accepted into a fine arts camp the next summer. Music scholarship offers followed. Acceptance into the America's Youth in Concert program came next, with performances at Carnegie Hall, Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, and a European tour.
William Cowper coined the well-known phrase: "God moves in a mysterious way ..." Indeed He does! Only God could transform the usage of an unwelcome nickname into a life-changing and life-defining event.
I know that Jim Nabors, a gay man who was forced to remain closeted for most of his life, will be both celebrated and vilified during the next few days. Some will use his name to ignite yet another skirmish in the never-ending culture wars that sap our nation's greatness more than any external foe ever will.
The culture warriors can go ahead without me. I'll spend my time offering thanks to God for Jim "Gomer" Nabors, whose golden voice helped me find my own.
The Rev. Gregory Hayes of Richmond, Va., is a retired clergyman and former district superintendent from the West Virginia Annual Conference. This post is republished with permission from his Facebook page.