Page 4 The North Carolina Mason July/August 2017
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ird class postage paid at Oxford, NC 27565.
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Grand Master
A. Gene Cobb Jr.
Board Of Publication
Bill Faison (Chairman)
R. Kevin Combs
W.E. Warnock
John R. Beamon III
John S. Dodd
Editor
Beth Grace
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From the editor's desk
Grand Master A. Gene Cobb Jr. .............................. gcobb@glnc.us
Deputy Grand Master Speed Hallman ...............shallman@glnc.us
Senior Grand Warden D. M. "Mack" Sigmon. ... msigmon@glnc.us
Junior Grand Warden Shaun Bradshaw ........... sbradshaw@glnc.us
Grand Treasurer Lewis R. Ledford (PGM) ......... lledford@glnc.us
Grand Secretary T. Walton Clapp III .....................wclapp@glnc.us
Senior Grand Deacon R. David Wicker Jr. .......... dwicker@glnc.us
Junior Grand Deacon Larry B. ompson Jr. ...lthompson@glnc.us
Grand Marshal Kevan D. Frazier. ..........................kfrazier@glnc.us
Grand Steward Donald E. Kehler ......................... dkehler@glnc.us
Grand Steward Robert W. Rideout ...................... rrideout@glnc.us
Grand Tyler William B. Bruton .......................grand.tyler@glnc.us
Grand Chaplain Mark M. N. Vickers ....... grand.chaplain@glnc.us
Grand Historian Steven A. Campbell ..campmckay1358@gmail.com
Grand Lecturer Hugh L. McLaurin III ................... mac542@live.com
NORTH CAROLINA
The Mason
By Beth Grace
Editor
H
ave you ever had one of those
"moments," a serendipitous tick of
time when you knew that what you
were witnessing was something so special, so
moving, that you knew it could never happen
again?
You try to tell friends about it later, praying
for total recall … which
always fails you. But
somehow, you manage to
remember the best parts,
the feeling in the room
and in your heart, the
emotion of the moment.
I want to share one of
those moments – a trea-
sure made of time – that
I was lucky enough to
experience when I spent
some time visiting Past
Grand Master Charles
E. Cathey, along with my
NC Masonic Foundation
colleagues Jeff Hensley, Dee Blake and Chris
Richardson.
Full disclosure: we descended on Most
Worshipful Cathey with no warning, dropping
in on him at the NC State Veteran's Home in
Black Mountain on one sweltering late June
afternoon. We wanted to present him with a
list of the latest winners of the high school
scholarships he had created when he was
Grand Master in 2000.
He didn't miss a beat. He smiled and
welcomed us, settling in for a good, long chat.
As we talked, he reminisced about his year as
Grand Master – clearly a favorite subject. He
talked about his brothers, the major issues of
his year and the joys he felt in doing the work.
He brightened as we showed him the list of
scholarship winners, confessing that he had
never completed college himself, so estab-
lishing that scholarship – which we are still
growing today – was a dream come true for
him.
And then it happened. e moment.
We had all heard about the poem he liked to
recite as he closed lodge and District meetings,
and we asked him about it.
His smile grew wider. With only a little
prodding, he agreed to recite it for us. No
brother from his year will fail to recognize it.
His voice is weaker now than it was back in
the day, but his memory is sharp. He spoke,
moving his hands to punctuate the words,
staring off into memory. You knew, looking at
him, that just for that brief, brief moment he
was back there. Standing in the East, speaking
to the brothers he loves.
He barely hesitated as he recited the poem,
e Bridge Builder, published in 1931 by a
Tennessee poet named Will Allen Dromgoole.
An old man going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening cold and gray,
To a chasm vast and deep and wide.
rough which was flowing a sullen tide.
e old man crossed in the twilight dim,
e sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.
"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near,
" You are wasting your strength with building
here;
Your journey will end with the ending day,
You never again will pass this way;
You've crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build this bridge at evening tide?"
e builder lifted his old gray head;
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"ere followed after me to-day
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
is chasm that has been as naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!"
ere was silence in the room when he
finished speaking. Well … except for the sound
of my own snuffling.
I have seen a lot in my short time with this
fraternity, but this by far was one of the most
moving moments.
I saw in his eyes what Masonry means and
realized as my gaze rested on the list of schol-
arship winners on the table beside him that he
truly HAD built that bridge.
Knowing that he won't pass this way again,
he didn't waste his strength.
He didn't hesitate.
He built.
He created his own span for those young
men to follow, to cross in the twilight dim,
sparing them a potential pitfall across all
chasms, deep and wide.
Visiting a bridge builder
