Randy E. Norrisk

3 September 1953 - 28 January 2002

As I was walking through Dunn’s Woods on the IU campus the day after Randy’s death, I heard the bells toll on the Student Building clock tower. I realized that they were tolling for Randy, for me, and - indeed - all of us who are here today. The mournful sound made me realize that Randy had departed, that his life on earth was over, after starting September 3rd, 1953.

Although we were only a year apart in age and graduated from the same high school, dear old BHS, I first meet Randy at a dinner party in 1977. He was an employee of the IU Foundation; I was Chancellor Wells’ houseboy, the latest in a long series. We were not guests at the dinner, but served as waiters. Before the guests arrived, the staff at the Chancellor’s residence was busy. Randy’s aunt, Tillie Hopkins, was the cook. Randy’s mother, Catherine Norris, was helping in the kitchen. Mary Jo Longstreet, the housekeeper, fussed over linens, china, and silver. Others were there, Loretta Nixon perhaps, but my mind is fuzzy.

What remains strikingly clear is the presence of Randy Norris. His laugh was infectious, and had a gift for impersonation that kept everybody laughing. Dr. Wells was fond of him, and the affection between them grew throughout the years. Once the guests were seated at the dinner table, Dr. Wells had a buzzer that was operated by his foot, and provided a way to signal the kitchen that help was needed. On several occasions, Dr. Wells would get so engrossed in conversation that he left his foot on the buzzer, so Randy or I would have to go and whisper in his ear to remove his foot.

Once out of the kitchen, Randy was a consummate waiter. He deftly served the food and cleared the plates, bringing the finger bowls at the appropriate time. I was an eager learner, but clumsy. One time I spilled an entire pitcher of cream down the low-cut back of a dinner guest’s dress! Back in the kitchen, Randy and the others howled. You can be sure that Randy reminded me of that often!

But Randy and I weren’t laughing much when we meet in early 1996. Randy was recovering from lung cancer, and I was still feeling the effects of a massive stroke. We had coffee in the old IMU cafeteria, and mused about the struggles we were facing daily. Soon we were laughing, perhaps not as freely as before, but thanking God that we were still on the sunny side of the earth. Randy was still that old irrepressible self; seeing him gave me hope.

Two years ago, we were thrown together again as we mourned the death of Herman Wells, the great leader who served his university so long and so well. The head of "Hermie’s Army," in that wonderful phrase of Linda Bucklin, was gone, and we would have to make our way alone. Randy was a loyal soldier in that army, dedicated to unselfish service. Now he joins Dr. Wells, Loretta Nixon, Esther Heady, his father, his relatives, his ancestors. Randy streaked like a comet through my life, spreading joy and laughter. Now that he is out of sight, I feel a deep ache, but I know he will live in my heart. Godspeed, Randy!

Remarks for the funeral service for Randy Norris, Second Baptist Church, 1 February 2002, by James H. Capshew.