Everybody knew his daddy as “Cowboy” and his mama as “Grannie” which might help explain why Tommy Lewis was blessed with at least two nicknames, if not more. His co-workers/friends at the paper mill called him “Motor Mouth”, a reference to his ability to talk with anyone about anything for any length of time. His fellow NSRA (National Street Rod Association) members called him “Cowboy”, a reference to the cowboy hat he always wore to their events and meetings. Those nicknames might tell you a lot about some people, but they barely scratched the surface when it came to defining the character of a man who was often described as “one-of-a-kind”.
Of course, you can read his obituary and learn a lot about his life, his family, and his work. He was born in the Olivet community in 1946, a place he stayed for the majority of his years on this earth, and he served his country in the United States Army during the Vietnam War. For 43 ½ years, Tommy worked as a millwright at the local paper mill and was a first responder for their team. And he was an avid street rodder who served as the NSRA’s West Tennessee Safety Inspector. But even those details don’t begin to tell you who he really was.
They don’t tell you about his strong work ethic and how he strove to do everything he tackled to the best of his ability. They don’t tell you how many veterans burial rites he arranged . . . how many he participated in . . . how many times the necessary documents might be missing but he told us he’d “make it happen” because every veteran deserved that final honor. And although there are hints (most of which are not too subtle) about his gift of gab, they don’t tell you how often he would see someone he knew and make certain he spoke to them before leaving. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing. If he knew you and he saw you, he was going to take a minute—or more—to visit. To ask how you were—and then to actually listen when you responded. He might have to walk across a parking lot or crowded room to do it, but he cared enough about people that the obstacles and inconvenience didn’t matter.
However, if you really want to know who Tommy Lewis was . . . if you really want to know the character of this one-of-a-kind man . . . then scroll through the condolences left on his Tribute Wall:
“He just drew people to him with his personality . . . He was one in a million . . . He was a cut-up for sure . . . Talking to him was always an enjoyable event . . . He was one of a kind and loved by everyone who knew him . . . Motor never met a stranger . . . He had so many friends and will be missed by so many . . . Always a joy to see him . . . He was the life of the party. . . Never be another . . . He was a veteran’s veteran, always going out of his way to help a fellow veteran.”
But the most telling comment of all? The one that really summed up the Tommy Lewis we all knew and loved and already greatly miss?
“He was a good man.”
I’m not sure there could ever be a greater compliment. Or a truer statement.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
