R. W. Porter was buried today

They buried R. W. in Slater's Chapel Cemetery near the village of Nolan about 19 or 20 miles from the county seat town of Sweetwater, Texas.
He and I grew up together, baptized into the little Nolan Baptist Church and going through school together.  We were fellow members of the Class of '51 at Divide High School, which closed its doors in the 1980s.
R. W.'s full name was Ralph Waldo Porter, Jr.  But he was among a bunch of boys in the Divide-Nolan community who went by initials.  There was W. A., A. J., J. R., R. J., L. D., J. B., J. H., and perhaps others.
We were two of the seven boys in that graduating class.  There also were seven girls.  Two or three of the class members died early.  Until R. W. died last Sunday, there had been five men and five women remaining from the original 14.
The last memorable event we shared as a class was a senior trip.  Most of our newly minted graduates went on a school bus, passing briefly through Oklahoma, then to several points in Colorado, including Colorado Springs with its scenic Garden of the Gods and the Seven Falls.  We missed Pike's Peak because our chaperones didn't think the school bus would make it to the top.  Our final attraction on the trip was Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico.
Some nights, all seven of us fellows stayed in one big room in tourist courts.  I remember we talked late into the night, realizing we were beginning to say good-bye, without saying it.
I skipped out on West Texas after graduating from Hardin-Simmons University, I went to seminary in Kentucky and left Texas, virtually for the rest of my life.  So I lost touch with R. W. and the others in our little graduating class.
I probably hadn't seen any of our classmates for 50 years. The next time time R. W. and I got together was last December, shortly before Christmas 2011.
Pansy and I were in Texas, visiting my brothers and sisters in the Waco-Cleburne-Waxahachie areas of Central Texas.
I had a hankering to go back to my old stomping grounds in West Texas and see some of our class.  Ina V. (Lewis) Cleavinger, the contact person for our reunions, had sent everyone a roster with addresses and phone numbers.  So I took that list with me from South Carolina .  .  . just in case.
Just a day or so before Pansy and I started westward, I checked the addresses and determined only three of our number still lived in the Sweetwater area. So I called Earl Deward Lewis and Glenn Bennett, along with R. W.
All three of these "old boys" liked the idea of getting together, so we met at noon.  I grew up calling the midday meal "dinner" and the evening meal "supper."  But we've about outgrown those designations.  When I told Glenn that Pansy was coming, he brought his wife Lylia with him.  She and Pansy got acquainted as the infamous members of the Class of '51 reminisced.
We ate at Allen's Family Restaurant which is out on the east end of Sweetwater on U. S. Highway 80.  It's family style, and the server staff kept fresh platters of chicken-fried steak, fried chicken, and meat loaf coming our way along with six or eight bowls of veggies -- maybe even ten.  Then there was peach cobbler and iced tea.
After we gorged ourselves at Allen's, Lylia and Glenn invited us to their house for more conversation and coffee.  So our lunchtime get-together extended to most of the afternoon.
As we talked, R. W. told us he was in almost constant pain.  He said he had thought of going to Scott and White Medical Center in Temple, Texas, famous as a research and academic medical center.  I didn't learn whether he ever followed through with that visit.
We took pictures all around, and those with e-mail and Facebook found ways to keep in touch through the social media.  And we have kept in regular contact with Glenn and Lylia.
It was Glenn who called Monday to tell me of R. W.'s death.  He said he was also going to call the only other surviving male in our class, Morris Hartgraves in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex.
Vic Meyer, pastor of the Nolan church, conducted the graveside service.  R. W. is survived by his wife Wanda, whom I had not met; a daughter, Dee Brookshire of Abilene, Texas; as well as grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and a niece.
John Donne said, "Every man's death diminishes me for I am involved with mankind."  And, even though we had not been in regular contact for many years, R. W.'s death diminishes me and diminishes our Class of '51.