The first time in recent memory that our lives intersected was in 2015 immediately following my father’s funeral when Bouncer Robertson visited the Townes’ family home in Grenada for the reception. He was there to be a support for my sister Allen Cunningham as they had recently become good friends. Bouncer walked in the door with his warm smile and bright eyes, and he gracefully waded into the various rooms where distraught family members and dear friends were grieving the loss of Dr. Bobby Townes. Only a well-grounded, compassionate soul would be willing to enter such an emotionally fraught situation. His presence there made me start paying attention to the budding relationship he and my sister were developing.
After later conversations with Bouncer, I realized that we had crossed paths at least two times before - once when I was a student on the Ole Miss campus when Bouncer, just before a football game, honked his antique car’s horn that played the opening notes of the song Dixie whose corresponding lyrics were – “Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton.” The other occasion was when I was working as an internal auditor for Grenada banking system during my Ole Miss work-study semester. Bouncer had a business relationship with, then, Sunburst Bank, and it was his company who was responsible for the credit life policies that bank customers often purchased with their installment loans. What caught my attention was that he was driving a Porsche and wearing an eye-catching business jacket. He was at once a dignified gentleman and a very cool guy.
Bouncer and sister Allen were formally introduced in their cardiologist, Dr. Bryan Barksdale’s, waiting room. Both had tachycardia and that was where their similarities began. Both had borne the death of their beloved spouse. The stars were aligned and each was ready to begin building some more memories, especially of the Ole Miss sort – this time with a new companion.
I have fond memories of having dinner in nice restaurants with Allen and Bouncer and, after the meal, Bouncer would “work the room” and introduce himself to the other guests and ask questions about where they were from. In most instances Bouncer would make a quick mutual connection and state, “Oh I know him. He and I are good friends!”
One of the best traits of Bouncer was his generosity. Beyond his charitable contributions to church and nonprofits, Bouncer would open his wallet to give cash on the spot to the many people who moved his heart. And he was a generous tipper, often after asking the waiter or attendant questions about their life. He honestly took delight in hearing people’s stories.
There are many reasons why people give charitably, but it seemed to me that his motivation sprang from his gratitude to God for all he had been given. He often said to me, “Rob, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” Bouncer didn't arrogantly take credit for his business success. His wealth was a gracious gift to be shared with family, friends, and even those in need he barely knew.
Not that other regions of the country don’t communicate similarly, but I think Mississippi raises “parlor conversation” to an art form. (Of course, it helps when generations of families remain in close proximity such that story after story can be told of familiar people and places.) Some of my favorite times with Bouncer were simply sitting in a living room, listening to him talk about people he knew and their family histories. Bouncer had a great memory and he loved to share stories. Because he was a good storyteller, I never tired of listening to them, even those he repeated. I remember learning in seminary that when older people share stories, it’s actually a ritual for spiritual development whereby seniors reflect and attempt to make sense of their lives and answer the question, “Has my life been worth living?”
Bouncer’s life definitely was.
Rest in peace, dear friend.
Rob Townes was raised in Grenada. He resides in Decatur, Georgia, but family, friends and business often bring him back to his ancestral state.
