In Memory of Harold

Although Christmas is a time of joyful anticipation, the void caused by loss or other trials can make it painful. On Christmas Eve, 1971, the Wilde family experienced unthinkable tragedy. Let's get to know Harold Dean Wilde through the eyes of his big brother, my father-in-law, Jim:

Harold Wilde (My Baby Brother)

Harold was born on February 24, 1951. He was a beautiful, handsome baby. We were always very close. I remember when we were in daycare, if one of us was punished for violating the rules, the other brother cried. I loved my brother deeply, and was very proud of him. He had blond hair and big brown eyes. Growing up, he had all the pretty girlfriends. He played in the band in junior high and high school; Parker High School had one of the top bands in South Carolina, and my brother was a star drummer.

I remember one Christmas, when he was wearing a cast from a broken ankle, the band director had Harold march with the junior high school band down Main Street in Greenville. When they got to the end, he got in a vehicle and they took him back to the beginning of the parade route, then marched down with the Parker High School Band. He had painted the bottom of his cast in black to match the sole of his white band uniform shoes.

Harold loved football, and was one of the toughest football players I have ever seen. We had community football teams at that time, and Harold was a middle linebacker for the American Spinning Team. I remember him tackling a guy so hard that he flipped him in the air, the kid fumbled the ball, and Harold recovered it! He wanted to play football for his favorite team, the University of Tennessee, but was too small, and had other interests first.

Harold joined the Marine Corps in 1969, right out of high school. I was in the Army, and we corresponded occasionally. When our grandmother died, we both came home for the funeral. Harold was stationed at Camp LeJeune at the time, and I was stationed in the Republic of Panama. I remember driving with my Dad to take Harold back to Camp Lejeune the night after the funeral. It was an all-night drive. Later stationed in Okinawa, Harold was a door gunner on an airplane that took ammunition to the Marines at the militarized zone in Viet Nam. His group came under attack and from shrapnel in his leg, he was given an honorable discharge and came home.   

Harold Wilde around 1969.

Harold met a girl in Newport,Tennessee, shortly before going to Okinawa, and they were married when he came home from his tour of duty. Harold and his wife lived in Greenville.  He worked as a supervisor in warehousing with a textile company. In 1971, I was in my first year of college, living at home with mom and dad, and working for my brother during the holidays. That year, Harold drove his wife home to Newport on December 23^rd. He had to work on Christmas Eve, and left just after midnight of the 24th to head back to Greenville. His plan was to work on Christmas Eve day in Greenville, then drive back to Newport to spend Christmas Eve with his wife’s mom and family. He intended to return to Mom and Dad's to spend Christmas with us.  

At approximately 2:30 a.m. on Christmas Eve morning, my Dad answered a call from a North Carolina State Trooper. After a few seconds on the phone, Dad broke down crying, so I finished the call. The trooper said that my brother had been involved in a serious accident on Interstate 40 between Canton, NC, and Waynesville. He also said that it was obvious that a drunk man was on the wrong side of the highway, and my brother was passing a transfer truck in the left lane when the accident, a head-on collision, occurred.

I asked the officer about the drunk guy's injuries and how he was doing. He said the guy was in serious condition with a punctured lung, teeth knocked out, and several broken bones, but that it looked like he would recover. Then I asked him how my brother was doing. After several seconds of pause, he said, “Oh, he didn’t make it." I thanked him, got off the phone, and asked Mom and Dad to get ready; we were going to Haywood County Memorial Hospital in Waynesville. All the way to the exit to the hospital, they kept asking me what the officer had said about Harold’s condition. I prayed all the way, silently asking God how to deal with this. I told Mom and Dad about Harold’s death just as we were turning off of I-40 onto the exit to the hospital.

Jim and Harold Wilde with their Dad, Abe

The day after the funeral, my Dad asked me to drive him to the hospital in Waynesville to see this man that had killed his son. My Dad was a good, loving, Christian man, and I knew he was not violent. I had no idea what he was going to say to this person if we were able to even see him. When we got to his room, my Dad walked over to his bed to introduce himself. The guy was heavily bandaged, and was nervous when dad introduced himself.

Dad told him that he loved him, and he knew that the guy didn’t mean to kill his son. He told the man that he didn’t want him to go through life thinking that Dad hated him for what he did. Dad picked up a Bible on the table next to the bed, opened it, and read Scripture.  Dad was not an educated person, but I remember that the Scripture was appropriate. The guy cried after my Dad prayed with him. This was a very important point in my life, and more importantly, in my faith. My brother and I were blessed to have grown up in a Christian family.

Many of the living Wildes are sad that we never knew Uncle Harold, yet are blessed to keep his memory alive. It's in the spirit of "sorrowful, yet rejoicing" that we thank God for him, confident that because of the blood of the Baby born on Christmas, we will see Harold again one day.