Percy Pheasant was my friend. He was a man of enduring patience and I tested it often.
I know he trusted me because at least once he let at least one of his daughters ride with me on my motorcycle.
Percy perfected the art of what therapists call a “non-anxious presence.” He melded this with a long-term view of everything, meshed it with his deep love of family, and lived his life with an easy grace and natural humility.
Percy was even known here at my church in the USA:
He was traveling with Charles Gordon – and I am not making this up – a member of our congregation whose name really was Donald Duck forgot Percy’s name and introduced him from the pulpit as “Arnold Partridge.” When Percy took to the pulpit he calmly proclaimed, “Thank you Donald Duck, my name is Percy Pheasant.”
The last time I saw Percy was a couple of years ago. He was picking up his beloved Ivy from WOW and we chatted and in that brief and last exchange he reminded me how the real treasures of our existence are kindness, humor, faith, and love. He just stood there, embodying it all.
I do believe in Heaven and that the minute Percy made his entrance even Heaven became a better place.
Rod Smith and sons, Thulani and Nate
December 31, 2016