James A. Lockwood: My Father’s Eulogy

January 1982. Jimmy was working around the clock in his 4^th year of Medical School at UAB. He had married my mom two years before and they were still charting the course for their life. Due to his work ethic and smarts, many options lay before him and he could name his own destiny.

On that cold January evening in 1982, Jimmy received a call and the voice on the other end said, “Your Daddy has died”.  Jimmy had lost his father to a heart attack. At age 26, he took his new wife, packed up his Green Pontiac Firebird and headed to Eufaula. My Mom has told me that ride was the longest of their lives. They both were in disbelief and thought they would never get to Eufaula. How could his father, at only age 52, have already passed away? Hard to believe such a dark event would start to shape such a brilliant life.

In the months that followed, Jimmy and Cindy made the decision to move to Eufaula and start their careers and family. He joined Eufaula Internal Medicine in July of 1985, ready to answer the calling to serve his community. With his dad gone, my father received some sage advice from a colleague who was also a native son of Eufaula. “Some people will think you hung the moon,” he said, “but some won’t accept you. Make sure to treat everyone the same.” My father took those words of advice to heart as he started his life, his 40-year marriage, and 35-year medical career in his home town.

Drawing from the influence of his father, my dad focused on imparting three life lessons: Always do the right thing, treat everyone the same, and life is about your effort, not the result. He also loved to say that you learn more through your failures than through your successes. He had a knack for focusing on the big picture and not getting caught up in the details. It almost seemed like he was two steps ahead of all of us because he knew that the big things took care of the small things. I have to be honest here, it wasn’t always easy being Dr. Lockwood’s son and most of the time it felt impossible to live up to his standard. It still does. But he never wavered from those principles because they were the same principles that his father had taught him. And I’m thankful he imparted them on our family as well.

Fast forward to April 2005, during a routine colonoscopy, my father received the news that he had a large mass on his pancreas. That diagnosis started his second life-changing journey. One that led him from UAB to Minnesota to Wisconsin to Nashville and everywhere in between, battling his disease. As there was no medicine to treat his cancer at the time, he endured many surgeries. My mom, lovingly, stood by his side and supported him throughout this 15-year journey. After one surgery, his surgeon told him that Jimmy’s goal in life should be to live long enough until a treatment was discovered. And he did, over and over and over again. His determination to conquer this disease often saw him in the office 48 hours after surgery working a full week. Now he may have napped on an exam table at lunch, but he was determined to take care of every single patient. My father found refuge in his work. It gave him meaning and allowed for a sense of normalcy in the chaos of fighting his disease. As he taught me throughout my childhood, you learn more through the trials of your life, than your successes.

My dad believed that his disease made him a better doctor.  By fighting his own battle, he was able to relate to his patients’ battles more effectively. My family has been blessed to hear many stories from my dad’s patients over the past few weeks. And we have heard that his patients were okay to wait in the waiting room because they knew they would soon be getting my dad’s full attention. If he was running behind, these patients knew that Dr. Lockwood was listening and trying to provide the best care possible. They knew they would get the same undivided attention when it was their turn.

Side bar here: Time management was never a huge priority for my dad.  My brother and I laugh at the number of tardies we accumulated in elementary school because of our dad.  We were on doctor time and dad was going to get there when he got there. To my dad, our tardies were a minor detail in the grand scheme of things.  He’d rather focus his energy on bigger impact priorities. For instance, my dad aimed to treat each patient like they were his only patient.  He strove to be not only a physician to his patients, but also to be a counselor and friend. Dad stated during his final days that often, his patients taught him what he didn’t know.  The willingness to listen and learn from his patients, along with his compassion and empathy, made him an excellent doctor. Because of his love for his patients, my dad stated that he was never going to retire, and remarkably, he was still working four weeks before his death. He stated many times that his patients were more than just patients, they were also his friends.  Dad never wanted to leave his friends. 

Jimmy’s outlet and passion outside of medicine is a parcel of 230 acres of land on Gammage Road just north of town. My dad liked to call it the premier duck hunting property in Barbour County. And though we don’t have hard evidence, through his commitment and vision, we believe that it is. He fell in love with this property as a child walking the woods with his father.  During these walks, they discussed not only conservation and Auburn football, but most importantly lessons about life. After his father’s passing, my dad took over management of the property and oversaw the planting of 130 acres of Longleaf Pine, the creation of 3 additional duck ponds, and the nurturing of his beloved beehives. He was able to taste the hives’ first batch of honey merely 2 days prior to his passing. He had not 1 but 2 spoonfuls!

My father was adamant about a person having an outlet and hobby, and perhaps the largest stamp of approval for his hobby came last year. A class of Wildlife Management graduate students from Auburn University scheduled an outing to the farm. Dr. Kelly Dunning brought her class of all women to learn about wildlife management. The group of women had never duck hunted or been introduced to wildlife outside of textbooks.  After a couple of hours viewing the property, as my dad often would, he sat in his leather chair inside the cabin and held court. He answered questions, told stories, and shared his immense knowledge over the course of the morning. A couple of weeks later, my dad received a thank you note from the class along with a note from Dr. Dunning stating that her students learned more in 1 day from my dad than she could teach in a semester. 

You all know how much Auburn University meant to my dad, and the biggest reason is that he met the love of his life and life partner there. You would often see him dressed in orange and blue.  Many of my fondest childhood memories involved Auburn football and gamedays.  Our Saturdays in the fall began with “Statesboro Blues” on vinyl and ended with the Auburn locker room report with Andy Burcham.  Though wins and losses were important to my dad, he placed more value on the effort of the team than the result. Remember, life is about your effort, not the result. 

As my brother’s quote stated, Character is a bundle of habits and tendencies and interests that are bound together and dependent on circumstance. My dad built habits and tendencies that shaped his life based on his experiences. Through two life-changing events, the death of his father and his diagnosis, my dad was able to lean on and develop his character to get him through. This propelled him to live a remarkable life and have an anchor to depend on. The exceptional way Jimmy faced his illness was born in the qualities he inherited from both his father and mother. His dad was self-disciplined, reaching a desired outcome through a diplomatic, determined manner. But his mom is fierce – she is determined (some might say stubborn) and can reach the same outcome through sheer will. Including these two characteristics, my dad had many wonderful traits that when grouped together can only be summarized as character. Whether it be conversing with a friend, colleague, family member, or patient, you always had a sense that you were speaking to someone that operated a little bit differently than the rest of us. He truly had an uncommon ability to touch people and we were all lucky to be able to spend a little time with him.

If you feel so inclined, my family is requesting donations be made in my father’s honor to:

• First United Methodist Church of Eufaula
• National Wild Turkey Federation
• Pancreatic Cancer Action Network