From fields to friends, Lawrence Petersen reached them all
JERRY AULDS

The essayist, philosopher or poet who penned the line, "A man's reach ought to exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?" must have pictured in his mind someone who bore a striking resemblance to my friend, the late Lawrence Petersen of Danevang.

Petersen's reach stretched beyond borders, across divisions and above self-interests.

At his funeral, Petersen's pastor, Richard DuBroc of First Baptist Church of El Campo, drew laughter from the well of grief at the service when he described Petersen as, "The only farmer I know who grows a crop on his head."

It's true. Petersen's startlingly beautiful white hair reflected all the light and caught every eye in any room he entered. And, even in the darkest room, Petersen's basso-profundo voice commanded center stage.

It was his character that let Petersen take and hold the high ground. The reach of that character, his passion for his profession and his influence were all on display the first time I met him back in the late 70's at the Wharton County Cotton & Grain Clinic.

At that time, Petersen served on the board of Cotton, Incorporated, and it was a measure of his reach as a member of that board that the new CEO came all the way to El Campo to explain the new national advertising campaign just launched by the organization. The nationwide campaign revitalized cotton as a fabric of choice in the marketplace.

At home in Danevang, the "Danish Capital of Texas," Petersen brought the same concentrated character and energy to his community, serving as a Wharton County Junior College trustee. WCJC President Betty McCrohan told me that prior to his death he was still thinking about how WCJC was going to meet the challenges facing community colleges across the nation. "He always pushed for what was best for the college, never what was in his own self interest," she confided.

Young farmers gravitated toward Petersen, who was a willing mentor. One of those young men, Keith Bram, told me that a conversation with Petersen about farming was the equivalent of a graduate seminar, not only on farming but also on life itself.

Now, on Sunday mornings, I miss catching a glimpse of Petersen's white shock of hair I always saw from my seat in the choir loft when he stood to sing, sitting halfway back on the left side of the church sanctuary, where he and his First Lady, Gloria, always sat and worshipped.

I cherish seeing what his life taught his own children about reaching out to help others. As when his daughter, Laurie Martin, living in Germany with her pastor husband, Jimmy Martin, former music minister at First Baptist Church-El Campo, gave immeasurable help to El Campoans Brenda and Lowell Howard at the hospital at Ramstein Air Force Base. Lowell had been taken there for treatment following a heart attack he suffered while training police officers in Kabul, Afghanistan.

The Martins also recently reached out to help free former El Campoan Marie Bush when she was detained on a charge of proselytizing in the United Arab Emirates while on a mission trip.

As for me, I will miss hearing that low, rumbling, passionate voice Lawrence would use when we would engage in an intense discussion about some issue of mutual interest.

But I take comfort in the thought that someday, from my perch in the choir loft, I will see him out of the corner of my mind's eye.

All I have to do is reach out and touch him. This classic Jerry Aulds' column first appeared in the El Campo Leader-News on April 16, 2005.