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MossColumn: It's good to have a friend for life

By Bill Moss, Published: December 14, 2014

From my sophomore to senior year in high school, wherever I went Parker was there. Most things I did, Parker did, too.

At Chapel Hill High School, Parker and I were co-captains of the cross country and track teams, rivals in long distance, actors in "Alice in Wonderland" and companions at Carolina basketball games in Carmichael Auditorium.
Parker's father, Fred, was a volunteer official who handled the money at Kenan Stadium on Saturday afternoons. (It was only afternoons in the days of yore before stadium lights and ESPN.) A gofer for his dad, Parker later got promoted to scoreboard operator, a job he would keep for 22 years.
After Chapel Hill High School, Parker went on to the University of the South in Sewanee, Tenn. I visited there. He had plunged into fraternity life in the best way, making close friends and finding ways to be involved and do good. He was fraternity president, stadium announcer for football and sports broadcaster on campus radio.
We drifted on separate paths, as any two men might do, but never drifted apart.
When it came to groaning about Carolina losses, Parker was one of the best. We had been upper-deck coaches and Monday morning quarterbacks since the Charlie Scott and Don McCauley days. A memorable game was the one in Carmichael on Feb. 10, 1983, when Michael Jordan led No. 1 Carolina back from a 16-point deficit against the Ralph Sampson-led Virginia Cavaliers. Parker and I helped.
Eleven months before that, when Carolina made the Final Four, it was only natural that Parker and I would go. He bought the tickets and drove from Raleigh to Salisbury to pick me up in his Accord. We headed south to New Orleans without a reservation, checked in to a motor lodge in a sketchy part of town and set out to help Dean Smith win that elusive national championship.
Parker's sister, Pam, showed me a column I wrote about it for the Salisbury Post. I wrote about UNC's win over Houston and then our championship victory over Georgetown when Michael Jordan hit the game-winning shot with 17 seconds left to go and Fred Brown threw the basketball to James Worthy. If God is not a Tar Heel why is the sky Carolina blue?
Parker and I joined the herd of Carolina fans celebrating on Bourbon Street. Walking down the middle of the street, who do we run into but Michael Jordan and three or four other freshmen. Under the Carolina Way, Jordan was no better than any other freshman and lower-ranking than upperclassmen. We shook his hand and walked on; it somehow seemed like a regular thing. I have not washed my hand since then but that's another story.

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Newspaper jobs sent me to Tennessee and then Florida. After he went on a blind date with Susan in March of 1984, Parker settled on a newer and better version of best friend for life.
We exchanged Christmas cards, sent pictures of babies, shared family news and pinned our hopes on the new recruiting class.
We talked on the phone less often and yet when we did it always felt like we had just seen one another yesterday at track practice or play rehearsal. We shared common ground.
Parker was the least cynical person I knew. Whatever he thought, he said. He might one minute stake out a place to the right of Reagan, the next minute extoll the virtues of the poor. No one ever heard him utter a swear word. He let you know he was upset with his trademark epithet: "Jiminy Crickets!"

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In our life of running, I would jog up behind Parker on a cross country trail. "Paarrrker," I would sing, trying to sound like a voice on the "Twilight Zone." "This is your conscience speaking ... Run faster ... run faster."
Parker would respond in a like voice. "Mossss," he would say. We kept it going for 44 years. My wife heard stories about Parker for 20 years before she knew that Parker was not his first name.
They laid David Cartwright Parker to rest on Friday, Nov. 21, after a good service at First United Methodist Church of Cary. He died of kidney cancer on the 18th, his and Susan's 30th wedding anniversary. He was 61.
The Rev. Carl Frazier delivered the best line about Parker.
"He was not a catch-and-release friend," he said. "If you were a friend of David's you were a friend for life."
In the fellowship hall afterwards, I saw many of his old friends from Sewanee. Ours was among his longest friendships, for sure, but I was just one in a roomful of guys who considered Parker a best friend.
Dr. Frazier read a wonderful tribute by Parker's daughter, Laura. She recalled their Indian Princess time. She was grown before she realized that anyone other than Neil Diamond sang Christmas songs. Parker loved "Jeopardy" and crossword puzzles, a fact I had not known but loved since I'm addicted to both.
I miss Parker.
I'll never hear a Neil Diamond song or enjoy a thrilling Carolina victory or suffer a heart-wrenching loss or remember "the Shot" in the Superdome without thinking of him. It's a credit to Parker, though, that I am so grateful to have these memories. I plan to keep them not in the place that weeps but in the place that smiles.

Reach editor Bill Moss at billmoss@hendersonvillelightning.com.