Rickey Graham

Gone but not forgotten by those who knew him, Rickey Graham was one of the closest friends I ever had, and the only one that remained unquestionably loyal after school. Rick played football for Lone Oak, and played it well. He was at his best at the Center spot in the line, where he excelled. Few could handle his 245 plus pounds blasting off the line with the power and ferocity he could muster. He was one of the fastest men of his size in the entire school. There were only two others, and they graduated by the time Rick was moved into the backfield. Rick turned in his beloved 56 for 31 and began his Senior year playing powerback. When he came out of the backfield, he had a substantial head of steam and running into him was a chore I do not recommend. Rick also carried the ball, much to the chagrin of those who had to tackle him. Rick racked up 20 points his Senior year, making him the 4^th highest scorer of the ball carriers.

Rick played Basketball reasonably well, though being partially blind in one eye handicapped him some. He was with me on the 1972 undefeated Regional Quarter Finals boys basketball team. Our record has not been bested to this day. He stopped playing basketball for reasons he never told me after that championship year.

Rick used his speed and agility to run track, and throw the discus and shot put. I do not know if he has any awards in these efforts.

Rick was an excellent shade tree mechanic, often taking cars that were junk and making them run. He loved motorcycles too, and taught me to ride one. Rick would tinker with his cars, haul hay, swim, hunt, and roller-skate the summers of his too short life away. He built me my first bicycle out of what ever he found in junk piles so I could accompany him on his weekend paper route in Greenville. He would "loan" me a buck or so, and we’d eat or buy a coke in town.

His lisp and his hulking stature screened Rick’s intellectual ability. Big guys were not supposed to be interested in Science Fiction, technology, and gadgetry in those days. He tried to maintain an aura of the Tough Guy, and worshipped Clint Eastwood, but he was deep down a fellow with interests in the sciences and mechanics of all things.

Rick tried to drop out of school in the last year of his time there, but Head Coach Bobby Fannin would not let him. He gave him a letter from Rice University about a chance for a football scholarship there. Rick kept that letter until he died, and returned to school and finished with us.

The Grahams come from a long line of Grahams of the Graham Clan of Scotland. This is their Tartan, Family Shield, and Clan Crest.

After School ended Rick went into the United States Marines. He breezed through basic, being an excellent shot and strong as a bull. He made it to the Marine Air Wing, and became a helicopter crew chief on the HH53 Sea Stallion, one of the largest helicopters in what we called the "Free World". Rick excelled at this, combining the toughness of a Marine with the gadget and science of a helicopter crew chief.

Rick left the Marines with his second wife, and tried to settle in locally. He could not find a job any better than Janitor at the local aircraft modification plant. This wasn’t enough, so he tried to re-up in the Marines. His height and weight ratio wouldn’t allow it, so he went to the Navy and was accepted.

Before Rick left for the Navy he met and influenced a young man named Chuck. Chuck wanted to be a Marine really badly. I introduced him to Rick and Rick told him of life in the Marine Air Wing. Chuck listened and was enthralled by Rick’s tales and stories.

Chuck went into Marine Air, qualified for the Presidential helicopter fleet, and eventually became Liaison at Bell Helicopter for the Tilt Rotor project. I consider this Rick’s greatest accomplishment in his life, influencing this particular fellow.

Rick went into the Navy and moved to Florida. I saw him one last time when I was shopping for records in a discount store that was once in Greenville. Rick playfully introduced himself to me by a kick in the rear and we chatted happily for about a half hour. I went out to his van, and saw his wife, his 3 daughters, and the big motorcycle he had loaded in the back of the van. It was the last time I would ever see Rick alive.

Rick was going to the Naval base for duty one morning when someone pulled out of an intersection in front of him and his motorbike. He tried to lay the bike down and slide rather than hit the vehicle. The bike, instead of laying down, went the other way and started a tumbling roll that killed Rick. His beloved confederate flag full face helmet did him no good as the impact jarred his internal organs so bad it killed him almost instantly.

Rick left behind a widow and 3 daughters. No son would inherit his name. His line ended there. I was in the Army at the time and I threw together my class A uniform and beret and went to his funeral. As they loaded him on the hearse his widow sobbed in my arms and said "He was like a brother to you…."

And he was.