Telling the tale.

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I knew Bill Maben a while before I ever met him. Such is the power of good story telling. You only have to be around his son or his daughters for the duration of a meal before one of the family catch-phrases gets used. (I blowed it; I couldn't be better, want less or have more.) Each catch phrase is simply the fruit born of a branch on a tree with strong roots. Roots that run deep into Fort Worth and Tarrant County. You can tell the story of the last 70 years of Fort Worth's history by telling the story of Bill Maben.



It's funny that the stories came before the man in my experience. By the time I met this sweet, good Texan I felt like more like a fan than just a friend of the family. He skipped past "friend of the family" and chose instead to treat me like family. I always feel welcome at a Maben gathering. Partially because of the legacy of kindness that Bill and his sweet wife have passed on to their daughters and son. But also because of the stories.



I've learned to live with the idea that someday, all that there will be of my life is what can be said about it. If that's true, the Maben family need never fear being forgotten. They bring a new meaning to the phrase "sharing a story." Once you've heard the story of Bill telling his wife that their daughter had gone to see some band called "22 Top" or Uncle Joe's (I can't do it all!) frustration at being the only one doing ALL the work at a family catering event, you get to join in the fun. You're given permission to use the catch phrases, you are in on the joke. You, given enough time, are family.



I can only think that this current of inclusiveness runs so strong in the Maben family veins because Bill so regularly demonstrated it his whole life. I can't imagine Bill Maben not liking someone. But if he doesn't, it's their fault.



When I look at how Bill's son, Trey, and his wife, Caren, are raising their own boys, and the good men that Bill's daughters, Kathy and Lori, chose to start their family's with, I believe that I can see a recipe of constants. A buffet of standards, demonstrated by the father, sought after by the children. If you've spent time among the Mabens, you've been well-fed, you've laughed really hard, you've argued about something stupid and laughed again, you've listened to good music, and best of all, you've heard some great stories.



The incredible aspect that is the graceful legacy of Bill Maben's life, is that all are included. There always seems to be room for one more at the table. You are welcome to hear the old stories, and start your investment in the new ones. For my part, which is small and recent, I'm grateful to be invited, to be included, not just in the mourning of the loss of a great man, but more importantly, the opportunity to ensure the telling and retelling of the great old stories of this family, and to witness and participate as tomorrow's stories are formed.



The story of his final few hours, surrounded by family, is not mine to tell. But the impression that I've been left with is one of peace and dignity and grace. I can only surmise that the generosity that is the sub-text of Bill Maben's life story, caught up to him and escorted him to the end of this chapter.



May we all pray that our lives be nearly as a great a story and half as well told as only a Maben can.



Thank you Bill.



Hold Fast,



Caulfield