COMMENTARY

WAITSBURG– A giant in the community left us last week, but not without leaving a legacy for future generations. S. R. Hevel, M.D., "Rog," died peacefully at his Orchard Street home in Waitsburg on January 27.

He doctored three generations of residents of Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley and was one of several local medicos who were instrumental in the success of Dayton General Hospital.

I counted Roger as my doctor until he retired, and that included a small number of silk sutures, one broken wrist and various chest colds, bumps and bruises along the path of life.

It's difficult to remember whether it was late in my high school career or in first or second year of college, but one sunny afternoon, the phone rang at the house. I answered and it was Dr. Hevel wondering if I was up for a game of tennis.

Only in later years would I be comfortable calling him "Rog." To generations of patients and friends, he was "Doctor Hevel."

As a member of the high school tennis team, my playing style carried shades of football competitiveness and go-for-the-throat aggressiveness. I learned more about properly playing tennis–and interpersonal relationships–in that afternoon with Dr. Hevel than in all the games I played, before or after. A friendly game of tennis is just that: I was complimented on making a good serve or getting to one of his well-placed returns. And so I reciprocated. Who won and by what score is lost in the sands of time, but the lesson was indelibly imprinted.

Our family moved from Colorado in the summer of 1963 and rented a house across Orchard Street from Roger and Laura Jean Hevel, and their son David and daughter Claudia. Our first Christmas away from relatives five states away was with the Hevel family. They included us in their Christmas Day relaxation with other members of their family, expanding their dining room table to accommodate the Baker Family for the next dozen years or so, when our family's expansion and establishment of new traditions set a new pattern.

Rog and Laura Jean worshipped at the same church and their faith was to be admired. In those junior high and high school years, I concluded from my studies that science had an explanation for everything, God, Jesus and all of that religion stuff notwithstanding. Then I saw and heard Rog talk about his deep faith in Jesus and his belief in the Word.

Huh?

With maturity, I realized that Rog was right all along. Science is part of God's Kingdom; it's not an alternate explanation for Creation.

Roger and Laura Jean were among some 30 Waitsburg residents who traveled to Europe in 1980 to tour and primarily see the Oberammergau Passion Play, which is performed every 10 years. They were seasoned travelers and also joining the group were Laura Jean's brothers and their wives. Most were members of the church choir and it was magical that evening, our tour bus stuck in a Paris traffic jam, as the choir sang hymns from memory to pass the time.

When Laura Jean was hospitalized a few years ago in Spokane, Roger needed a lift back to Waitsburg and Charlotte was asked to chauffer him home. They chatted the entire trip and became fast friends. Roger would, from time to time, ring up Charlotte on FaceTime, visiting and talking about music and other common interests.

I was included in some of those visits and Rog, in spite of his years, was sharp as a tack. He remembered everything. We'd recall some event or person from years or decades earlier, and Rog would easily recall the event or whatever detail was being discussed.

It was a pleasure to see Roger at the Salmon Bake last September, enjoying that annual event.

Rog and Laura Jean loved their hometown, Waitsburg, and set a high bar for following generations with their philanthropy. Whenever something needed fixing, the Hevels stepped up with a generous donation. Regardless of whether the Waitsburg Pool is in operation (and we hope it is repaired or replaced some time in the future), an endowment (one of many made by the Hevels) makes swimming lessons for Waitsburg youth free forever.

"It is sad when the old generation goes. Even in the greatest weakness and misery, they give shelter from the wind, and a special world lives around them. And that kind of person will never come again."

-Isak Dinesen