My mother Ann Johnson passed in February of 2022, and my father Derwood Johnson just passed in August of 2024. When a second parent dies, a child mourns both parents’ deaths. I am very lucky to have had my parents, and I have been doing a lot of thinking this past week about their influence on my life. What follows are eulogies for my parents that I prepared.
Ann Elizabeth Fowler Johnson
Ann Elizabeth Fowler Johnson: she was a wife, daughter, mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, sister, aunt, and friend. She was months away from being a great-grandmother.
Mom was born on April 23, 1939, and grew up in Mart, Texas. Her father was Jewel Fowler and her mother was Elizabeth Fowler. My mother had a hard start to life. Shortly after she was born her father contracted tuberculosis, which was fatal for almost half of those who contracted it. The family had to go to a tuberculosis camp, but left Mom, who was just an infant, in her aunt’s care. Mom lived with her aunt for the first two years of her life before her family came back to Mart and they reconnected. My grandfather never had the same health that he had before tuberculosis and had to work in town at the Western Auto Store in Mart.
Another family tragedy hit Mom’s young family. Mom had a cousin, George Parton Fowler, who died on the Battleship Arizona in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Though Mom did not remember George, she and her family lived in a duplex with George’s parents. George was an only child, and Mom remembered that his parents always had a great sadness to them.
My grandmother was the long-time church librarian at First Baptist in Mart. My grandmother instilled a love of reading in my mother. Mom always had a book to read and was very intelligent. She was also very inciteful and empathetic. Due to her difficult start in life, Mom had a special way of empathizing with people that made me think that she actually felt what someone else was going through. She automatically put herself in someone else’s position. She felt others’ pain, fear, anxiety, and depression. Growing up, we were constantly told to think about what the other person was going through before passing judgment. That was not always an easy message to hear, but above anything else, it has probably had the biggest impact on me.
Mom graduated from Mart High School and was a star clarinet player in the band. Mom then became a legal assistant with attorney John Bates in Waco, where she met a young attorney, Derwood Johnson, in 1959. Derwood even had hair back then, and they fell in love. Mom supported Dad’s time as a Justice of Peace, judge of the County Court at Law and District Court, and went to many barbeques, pancake dinners, and other events. Derwood and Ann were happily married for 62 years. Their marriage was a blessing and a gift to them and to their family.
Mom’s maiden name was Fowler, which is my middle name. It is a good name, and we love our Fowler relatives. I will say, however, that as an attorney I occasionally look up random things in LEXISNEXIS, a research database that holds court opinions. When you look up Fowler, you will find that 99 out of 100 cases mentioning the Fowler name are criminal in nature.
People forget that Texas was once a place of last resort: when people were kicked out of South Carolina, they went to Kentucky; when kicked you out of Kentucky, they went to Tennessee; when kicked out of Tennessee, they went to Arkansas; and when kicked out of Arkansas, they went to Texas. You had to make it in Texas, like it or not, because there was nowhere else to go. As Davy Crocket famously said when he left Tennessee: “You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas.” Mom’s family eventually made its way to Texas from the East, and we are lucky they were kicked out of so many different states.
My Dad’s family story is very different. His family immigrated from Norway to Texas and settled in Bosque County. His first American ancestor was Salve Knudson in the 1840s, who had four primary lines of descent from four children that survived and had children, grandchildren, etc. My father, my siblings, and I have a great pride in our Norwegian ancestry. In the 1990s, we had a large family reunion in Bosque County for the decedents of Salve Knudson. Everyone was wearing a name tag. The name tags had a colored dot for which of the four branches of the family you descended from. There were some people with four dots on their name tag… Their family tree did not branch much. I am proud to say that our name tags only had one dot. At one point, we walked by a particularly unattractive four-dotter, and I turned to Mom and said: “Thank you so much for widening our gene pool!” Mom laughed and especially enjoyed that joke. She always loved when I retold the story though I am not sure that Dad did. I am the youngest and, like most folks in that position, I did what I could to get attention. Mom had a great sense of humor and approved of many of my jokes, but not all.
I can tell you one thing, if Mom were alive, she would not be here. You could not drag her here to hear about herself. Mom hated any form of attention. Once Meals on Wheels wanted to give Mom a lifetime achievement award for volunteering for 40 years. They wanted to give it to her at church during a Sunday service. Mom said that she would not go to church that day if they made her stand up to receive it. That was Mom. She would volunteer for 40 years to better the lives of the elderly and poor in this community but refused to be recognized for her work. With the nice things being said about her today, she would not want to be here to be the center of attention. She would bring a nice hot dish to the lunch afterwards, though.
Mom grew up a Baptist. Here is a joke of which Mom definitely would not approve. A Methodist preacher and a Baptist preacher passed each other on their bicycles as they rode to their respective churches. One day, the Methodist notices the Baptist walking. He says “Brother, where is your bicycle?” The Baptist said: “My heart is heavy, for I fear that a member of my congregation has stolen it.” The Methodist has an idea: “I know how we might get your bike back. This Sunday, you should preach the ten commandments. When you get to thou shalt not steal, really bear down on it. Maybe the thief will feel guilty and return your bike.” “That’s a great idea, I’ll try it!” says the Baptist. Sure enough, the following Monday, the Methodist preacher sees the Baptist Preacher riding his bike. “I see my plan worked” said the Methodist. “Well, not exactly” replied the Baptist. “I did like you said and gave a real fire and brimstone sermon on the ten commandments. However, when I got to thou shalt not commit adultery, I remembered where I left my bike.” Mom would tisk at me but then grin.
When she married Dad, they went to my father’s church, First Lutheran. They were the types that never missed a service or a pot luck dinner. Mom always made barbeque sausage and chocolate sheet cake for the pot lucks. Funny how folks always seem to have their assigned dishes. Mom was very involved with her circle bible study and Sunday school class. She cherished her church relationships and friendships. That church brought a lot of comfort and joy to their lives.
Speaking of food, Mom was a great cook, but she was not fancy or sophisticated. When my brother Matt first went to Baylor, he held up a bagel and said that it was the worst donut that he had ever had. He was not kidding. Mom’s style of cooking was simple: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, Norwegian meatballs, turkey and dressing, lasagna, salmon croquets, tuna salad, chicken salad, most any salad with Miracle Whip, chocolate pie, prune cake, Christmas fudge and cookies, and a wide assortment of casseroles. All very delicious. We are lucky that my sister Karen created a family cookbook several years ago where many of these recipes reside.
I mentioned that Mom was raised a Baptist. I never saw her take a sip of alcohol. Once we were at Ridgewood, and they served a pallet cleanser, a little scoop of frozen sorbet. Mom said that there was alcohol in it, and we all scoffed at her. When we asked the server, the server confirmed that Mom was right. Mom was very proud of herself. Some things do not get handed down to the next generation. My Doctor has advised me to stop drinking – it’s going to be a massive change for me. I’ve been with that doctor for 15 years…
I only heard my mother cuss twice in my whole life. She denied ever saying those words, but I heard them. To think, she raised me and my brother Matt and only cussed twice. Even Mother Teresa would have broken down in a string of four-lettered words in the face of that challenge. Mom could weld the back of a hair brush or a ping pong paddle if she needed to get through to one of us. Any more serious corporal punishment had to wait until Dad got home.
Mom and Dad’s best friends were Gerry and Curtis Reierson. They sat with them for Baylor Football games for 30 years at the old stadium. That is dedication. They also took trips together and played bridge. They did not take bridge too seriously as it was an opportunity to visit and laugh. It was always men versus the women, and nine times out of ten, the men won. But oh the joy when the women won. You could hear the commotion all over the house. There was a bridge group at church, but it was very serious. Mom and Dad played once, and Mom refused to go back. Too much pressure. My sister Sara enjoys games like my mother did, and she is very good at them. That trait was handed down.
Some define a life well lived in terms of business success, wealth, travel, climbing peaks, writing books, arguing legal cases, winning at sports, inventions, fame or celebrity. Certainly, today’s society does seem to idolize the loud and ignore the quiet. Mom would certainly fail under today’s standards for a life well lived. Mom never ticked or tocked or tweeted.
However, Mom was from a different generation. Ralph Waldo Emerson said: “The purpose of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” By that standard, Mom had the most successful life of anyone I have ever known.
Mom was a quiet, consistent source of love and support for all those that knew her. She was loyal to a fault. She was a server. She cared for her mother near the end of her mother’s life and did the same for her aunt and for my Dad’s aunt. Mom did the dirty work that no one else wanted to do and did so without complaint. She delivered hot meals to the poor and elderly two to three days a week for over forty years. She volunteered in schools, and always purchased gifts for needy children at Christmas. She was a giver.
She raised four children: Sara, Matt, Karen, and me. Those children and their spouses have a combined sixteen higher education degrees. Thanks Ed for four of those. Eleven of those degrees are from Baylor. Mom has six grandchildren: an entrepreneur, a CPA, an attorney, a Baylor Law student, a Baylor freshman, and a seventh grade star clarinet player, to whom I am especially partial. Mom loved them so much and joyed in seeing them as babies and as they grew up to be successful, good-hearted people. Mom was a tremendous grandmother and would have been a tremendous great-grandmother. If you grade a mother by her children and grandchildren, Ann Johnson was a great mother.
My mother was not an evangelist. She did not talk much about her personal relationship with God. She was Lutheran after all, and the eleventh commandment is: “Thou shalt not speak of thy own emotions.” But I know that my mother had a tremendous faith in God. In addition to going to church every chance there was, she walked the walk of a true Christian. Galatians 5:22-23 states: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” My mother certainly exhibited the fruit of the Spirit while she was on earth, and she is now sitting in Heaven with her mother and father, brother, cousin, and niece and is setting a place for all of us with plenty of casseroles and salmon croquets. She is forever young and pain free.
My parents certainly set a high bar on how Christians should behave. I have a hard time as an adult correlating between Christ’s teachings and Christians’ behavior. Right now, it seems as if all we hear is screaming and noise in this Country. The United States is one of the most religious nations on the Earth, but you would never know it. From pulpits, protests, politicians, citizens, media, internet, social media, everyone is yelling. Noise, noise, everywhere noise. There is no space for quiet, respect, empathy, dignity, goodness, gentleness, self-control, real communication, cooperation, or compromise. If everyone were a little more like Ann Johnson, put themselves in someone else’s shoes once in a while, this Country, this State, this City, and this room would be a better place. We would all be better people.
My Mom was not perfect; no one is. Many of her imperfections live on in her children. But I can say this without any doubt, this world was a much better place for having Mom in it. She had a life well lived. I love you Mom.
Gene Derwood Johnson
Derwood Johnson was born in 1929, three months before the Wall Street crash and the decade of the great depression. His upbringing in that difficult time certainly impacted the rest of his life. I never saw him make a riskier investment than a six-month CD. He had the same job for fifty years. Derwood was personally conservative, consistent, loving, frugal but generous, and loved any dish (no matter how good) that my mother made.
He was married to my mother, Ann Johnson, for over 62 years. They had an extraordinarily loving, kind, and gentle relationship. They had four children: Sara, Matt, Karen, and me. We have all had children, loving relationships, and regularly get together to enjoy each other and our nieces and nephews. The love in our family is based upon the love and respect that my parents exhibited every day of our lives. They modeled how a family should behave and treat each other.
You can read Derwood’s obituary and get the facts: Judge, General in the National Guard, Author, Genealogist, Etc. But I would like to discuss four aspects of Derwood’s life: Derwood as a man, a father, a judge, and a Christian.
Derwood The Man
Dad was a Norwegian wearing a Texan’s clothes. Anyone that knew him well knew that. We would hear stories about his ancestry, his family’s immigration from Norway to Texas, and celebrate Scandinavian traditions. We even learned a little of the Norwegian language along the way.
Not many people know that Norwegians and Swedes make fun of each other like Longhorns and Aggies. Norwegians make fun of Swedes, and Swedes make fun of Norwegians. Both tell Ole and Lena jokes. I remember my dad telling these jokes to me as a child, and they were usually simple jokes based upon a couple of Swedish simpletons who have many misunderstandings and mistakes. For example, there were two Swedes, Ole and Lena. Ole came home from work one day and saw his son sitting in the front yard with a brand-new fancy bicycle. Ole asked where he got the bicycle, and his son said that he bought it. Ole said: “How did you get the money? That bicycle must cost at least 500 kroner.” The son said that he bought it with money that he made with his job. “You don’t have a job,” said Ole. The son said that he had a job going hiking. Ole asked who would pay him to go hiking. The son said: “Mr. Hanson comes over after you go to work, hands me five kroner, and tells me to take a hike.” My father would never tell that joke, but he would laugh at it.
Dad had a good sense of humor and had a very dry wit. He loved Bob Newhart and watched both of Newhart shows in the 70s and 80s. They always reminded me of each other. I know my mother told this story about my father. Dad was working as a retired judge in Austin, and he and my mother were going up a hotel elevator to their room. Someone else in the elevator asked my father if he was the actor Jon Voight. My father said that he didn’t know that person, but asked if he was a sex symbol. I’m sure my mother turned red in the face. That is the type of quick retort that Derwood would make from time to time that would make us fall on the floor. He was surprising.
Dad came from an immigrant family. His grandfather on his father’s side immigrated the 1890s from Norway. That was only 30 years before my Dad was born. So, Dad very much felt that he lived the great American immigrant experience. His parents were not formally educated with degrees from college. But at an early age Derwood knew that education was his way to achieve the American dream. When he was ten, he decided he wanted to be a lawyer. Maybe it was the hot sun under which he picked cotton and delivered newspapers that made him think the cerebral calling of an attorney sounded good. He worked hard to make the money necessary to put himself through college and then eventually law school. He instilled his work ethic in his children and grandchildren. All four of his children obtained degrees from Baylor and have been gainfully employed.
Derwood as a Father
Derwood was a very good father. He came from a generation of men that typically thought that their job was to simply provide for the family, and the wife was supposed to do all the child rearing. He was not like that. Though my Dad did not speak much, when he spoke, he spoke with a gentle, calm, and loving voice. He would often express to us how much he loved us and how proud he was of us. He gave us countless hugs, took us to bed, read or told stories to us, took us on family vacations, played on the floor with us, made sure that we knew our heritage, and made sure that we appreciated the freedoms that we have as Americans. Even though Dad did not say a lot of words, he spoke volumes with his actions. He taught his children what it meant to be a good spouse and parent and to be loving, gentle, and kind. He taught us to place love above all.
I must confess that I deserved and received a few spankings in my youth. The spanking part was not the worst part of it. Dad would conduct a mini-trial in the back of the house. He would read the indictment (what I did wrong), lay out the evidence, ask me if I had anything to say, and then sentenced me to my punishment. Many a time I wished we could just skip to the end and get it over with, but Dad wanted to use these occasions as teaching moments. The time, which seemed like forever, also let him cool down.
Derwood as a Judge
Derwood was a very good judge. He was first elected to office in 1961 as a justice of the peace, and then became a county court law judge. In 1968, he was appointed by Governor John Connally as the judge of the 74th District Court in McLennan County. He was a district judge for twenty-four years before he retired in 1992. He handled some of the highest profile civil cases in McLennan County during his long tenure. He handled multiple cases dealing with the Waco dam and also a large plane crash that killed several doctors. The plane crash case was so large that they held the trial in the Masonic Temple auditorium. Dad did not retire because he had an opponent or there was some scandal (do scandals really impact a politician’s ability to be elected these days?). He was still a relatively young man when he retired at age 62. Rather, he simply thought that it was someone else’s turn to have a chance being a judge of a court. Imagine that, a politician giving up power so that someone else could have a turn. That doesn’t happen very often.
Derwood was what I would call a judge’s judge. Other judges in McLennan County would call him when they had a particularly difficult issue and needed to talk to someone. I remember Dad spending hours on the phone talking to other judges about their issues. He never seemed to mind doing that. He was a student of the law. He did not feel that it was his job to make the law, and he would follow precedent.
I had the great opportunity to work for former Texas Attorney General and former Texas Supreme Court Justice John Hill. Justice Hill had tried a large, complicated case in front of Dad in the mid-1990s in Austin, Texas. When Justice Hill found out that I was “Derwood’s boy,” he talked a long time about how good a trial judge that Dad was and that Dad was so knowledgeable about the law. If anyone was a good judge of judges, it was Justice Hill.
A good trial lawyer will tell you that what makes a good judge is that they do not try to interfere or interject in the case, and let the lawyers try it. Dad was famous for saying only three things in trial: sustained, overruled, and let’s go to lunch. Of course, Dad was lucky that he had so many great lawyers coming in and out of his court. In hearings, Dad would wait patiently to the attorneys’ arguments and then would ask: “Are you ready for a ruling?” When an attorney was bold enough to say: “May I ask for a reason for your ruling?” Dad would simply say, “No, you may not.” In all the years of being in various courts, he only had one opponent at the very beginning of his career. I think that was a true compliment that, after being first elected, people did not see a reason to run against him.
Derwood believed in real truth based on facts. Either something did or did not happen. Today, people seem to conflate opinion/emotion/belief on the one hand and fact on the other hand. People believe in “his” or “her” truth, not “the” truth. People watch the news outlet that feeds his or her personal “beliefs.” Feelings are not facts and are not the truth. I say this because Dad believed that the jury system was the best system created by man to determine the real truth. He believed in having twelve members of our community come to court and hear both sides of a story to determine what the facts are and to find “the” truth. He believed very strongly in our judicial system and its independence. He believed it serves a vital check and balance on the powers of the legislative and executive branches. He was very proud to be a part of our justice system.
My wife, Ashley Johnson, was a prosecutor in the McLennan County District Attorney’s office in the early 2000s. Dad was a visiting judge of a court in which Ashley was scheduled to try a case. Dad called up Ashley and the defense attorney to the bench, and he informed the defense attorney that Dad’s daughter-in-law was the prosecutor and that Dad would recuse himself if the defense attorney simply requested that he do so. The defense attorney stated that he was more than fine with Dad presiding over the case. The defense attorney did so because he knew that Dad would bend over backwards to make sure that he gave the defense a fair trial. Dad was always an unbiased, humble servant, and that is a great model for all judges at all levels.
Derwood as a Christian
Derwood was a faithful Christian. He went to First Lutheran Church in Waco, Texas, from 1942 until the day he died. He and my mother went to church every Sunday. Dad was active in church leadership, but was happy to turn those leadership positions over to the next generation when the time was right. He taught Sunday school and was a scholar of the Bible.
He taught his children about being a Christian by the way he acted and by the way he treated people. I know that my father had great faith. I know that Dad believed that there was heaven. I believe that my father is with my mother today. They are young and healthy forever more. That gives me great comfort.
I know my family has had a lot of emotions this past week. This is a celebration of life, a life well lived. But it is still hard to say goodbye to parents, no matter their age or condition. My father and my mother’s love and gentle dispositions will be with my family every day for the rest of our lives.