“I am writing to Timothy, my true son in the faith.” (I Timothy 1:2).
My 1950’s childhood was idyllic. I was born Timothy Neil Philpot, but everyone called me “Timmy”. The first eight years of life (1951-1959) were in small-town Wilmore, Kentucky. My father Ford Philpot was a travelling evangelist, so I heard more verses of “Just as I Am” than Billy Graham. I can’t tell you how many times I resisted the call to go to the altar and ‘get saved’. I knew that I was mischievous, but I was not quite ready to admit that I was a sinner.
For the full Ford story, check out my memoir, Ford’s Wonderful World of Golf on Amazon. Or go to www.fordswonderfulworld.com.
Mom was a ‘single mom’ in many ways. Dad was gone about 70% of the time. When Ford came home, it was a joyous occasion. And when he left, we often cried. But in the summer, it was a thrill to go with him to camp meetings where dad was the star of the show, preaching to appreciative crowds every morning and night for ten days. Even today, I love camp meetings. Kids like me had a chance to ‘get saved’ every night if we were so inclined.
Being in Ford’s world included meeting some ‘celebrities’ since he had become the first true TV evangelist in 1959. Dad invited ‘famous’ Christians to appear on his TV show and crusades. We met people like Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. Baseball star Bobby Richardson. NFL football stars like Bill Glass and Buddy Dial.
The famous black actress and singer Ethel Waters was a frequent guest, even staying in our home more than once. We saw Ethel so often that she felt like family. Even now, I well remember (over 60 years later) the feeling of sitting in her lap. She was large and busty, and it was like sinking into a soft couch. I was never quite sure how to get out, but I can still hear Ethel calling my name, “Come here, Timmy, and say hello to Ethel.” So, the early 60’s was the peak for my dad’s ministry, touching base with lots of the Christian celebrity world.
The 50’s was a time for Black and White TV. And since I was Timmy to all my friends and family, I loved the young boy who was Timmy on the Lassie Show, which featured the exploits of the most famous collie in the world. Timmy’s real name was Jon Provost. On the show, he was Lassie’s best friend. I was just one of millions of kids who wished they were Lassie’s best friend.
We moved to the big city of Lexington in May 1959, and thus Lexington became my home for the 60’s. I never missed the Lassie Show with my TV friend Timmy.
The Lassie Family
We even had our own version of Lassie. We had a female bird-dog, a pure-bred pointer, named Lady. Sadly, we lived in a suburb where hunting and roaming the woods was impossible, so Lady settled into a nice suburban lifestyle of having puppies. Since Lassie was out of my league, I settled for Lady, who to my delight was having an “affair” with a Collie who lived up the street. Every year they would find each other and have a litter of puppies. Apparently, Lady and I had the same affections for Collies.
This was long before leash laws. Looking back, you would think that my mother would put a stop to it, but this was the early 60’s. Lady’s puppies were all different since the mixed marriage was producing half-collie and half-pointer pups. Every year, my little brother Danny and I would crawl into the doghouse with the new puppies. We would try to spend the night and had huge fun naming them all. We were not real imaginative- names like Fatty or Skinny or Spot come to mind.
Well, as luck would have it, one summer my dad decided it was time for the family to drive to California. My parents decided it was time to see the country. It was August 1961. For some reason I remember Dodge City in Kansas, plus the Grand Canyon and more. Dad even planned it so that we saw our beloved Cincinnati Reds play the Giants in SF and the Dodgers in LA. His addiction to being a sports fan infected us all. Poor ol’ mom went along for the ride, pretending like she also loved baseball. It took me some time to figure out that she didn’t really love baseball- she loved Ford and Tim and Danny.
Dad’s dear friend, Marty Conflenti, had been dramatically converted in one of his revival meetings in Pittsburgh. He somehow made enough money to move his family to Beverly Hills, California. Marty lived in what we thought was a mansion with a swimming pool. The plan was to stay with Marty and his family for a week while Dad was preaching somewhere, probably Marty’s church.
For my brother Danny and me, this was big stuff. It was almost like the Beverly Hillbillies coming to town——— Kentucky Hillbilly style.
But the big excitement was that Marty’s three kids had become friends with “Timmy” on the Lassie show. Jon Provost literally lived across the street from the Conflenti family, whose swimming pool attracted eleven-year old Jon over to the house every hot summer day when he wasn’t working on the show. Wow! We became real-life friends with “Timmy”.
My friends back home, of course, thought I was a big fat liar when I told them that “Timmy” was my friend now. But Dad invited Jon Provost to Lexington to be on his TV show the next year and sure enough, I got to show off “Timmy” to family and friends.
So, fast forward about ten years in this Timmy story to 1971. And let’s cut back to Ethel Waters. Ten years had passed since my last remembrance of Ethel. I was now a sophomore in college and ready to get married that summer (age 20). It was announced that she was coming to my college for a concert. By then, I had outgrown the childhood nickname “Timmy” and now was just plain ol’ boring Tim Philpot.
I got tickets for the concert and when it ended, I decided to leave my comfort zone and go try to talk to Ethel. I presumed she would have no idea who I was, so I had a wonderful speech ready as I knocked on the dressing room door. My well-rehearsed speech was something like,
“Miss Waters, my name is Tim Philpot. You might remember my dad, Ford Philpot. He is an evangelist and you used to sing at his crusades. We met a long time ago and I just wanted to say hello.”
I knocked on the door with fear and trembling. Her baritone female voice was easy to hear, “Come on in.” I was just opening my mouth when she saw me and the next thing I heard was a deep cackling laugh from Ethel as she said loud enough to never forget, “TIMMY!” She knew my name and couldn’t stop talking about how much she loved me and my whole family. I did not need my speech. She loved me.
It was stunning. And for me, a great picture of how God welcomes his children home, even after a long absence. We often slide away from God and are sure He has forgotten us. We prepare a speech for re-entry into the world of God, knowing we may also need it at the Pearly Gates. But God just smiles and says, “Welcome Home”.
But one final Timmy story. Fast forward now another thirty years to about 2000. Our dear friends in India, Richard and Annie Samuel, were pregnant with their first child, a boy! I well remember when Richard told me the child’s name would be Timothy Stephen Samuel, named for me and another dear friend Stephen Johnson. They would call him “Timmy”. Wow!
As you might expect, little Timmy was a favorite for me. Of course, I also loved his four little sisters that came along in the years to follow. I was slightly disappointed that my efforts to push Timmy into golf never materialized since south India has few opportunities for the game. But instead, Timmy started playing the piano and became an accomplished musician, writing and playing to the delight of everyone.
But… not every story has a happy ending.
In the spring of 2021, at age twenty-one (21), Timmy died suddenly in the biggest shock imaginable. He died on the day before my 70th birthday. His parents and sisters grieve even today. The pain never goes away. Not really. Even typing these words brings sorrow that may never leave.
And if Timmy was like me, and I bet he was, he may have had some doubts about what happens on the other side of death.
Is there really a God, or is this just something my parents taught me?
Is there really a heaven, or is this just some place that people invent to make us feel better?
Is there really hope for eternal life, or is the Bible a fictional religious story intended to keep us all in line on this earth?
Does God really love me? Does he even know my name?
And what really happens at the so-called “Pearly Gates”—the Judgment Day. Every person has a speech ready for that Day. I capitalize Day on purpose, since it is the only Day that matters.
Even atheists and agnostics have a speech ready in their back pocket, just in case. It is usually some version of “I was a good person”, or “at least I was better than most”. Most women can at least say they were better than their husband, right?
So, when I heard that my dear young friend Timmy had died, I remembered my encounter with Ethel Waters in the dressing room--- fifty years earlier. I would guess that Timmy had a speech ready. He knew the love of Jesus, so I am sure his speech was something simple like, “I love Jesus.” But since he was human, I suspect he may have also been ready with a few good points too, such as “I was a good big brother.” It’s only natural.
But just like me in 1971 (fifty years earlier), Timmy didn’t need his speech.
He knocked on the door of Heaven. He heard a Voice from inside the Door say, “Come on in”. And then Jesus Himself said, with a huge laugh and open arms, “TIMMY!”. If he had notes for his speech, Timmy threw them away and just ran into the arms of Jesus, knowing he was loved beyond words.
So…. three Timmy stories.
1961…. Timmy and Lassie.
1971…. Timmy and Ethel.
2021…. Timmy and Jesus.
Oh, Happy Day---- the day when I stand in front of Jesus, his arms wide open, “Welcome home, TIMMY”.