Dr. J. D. Warren, 1943-2021

My father, J. D. Warren, went home on August 29. He had been declining for a few years from congestive heart failure and he also had dementia that probably stemmed from the heart problem. He must have been very uncomfortable the last couple weeks, and he had just started to need a wheelchair to move when his heart suddenly stopped. To the end he was uncomplaining, calm, and still lit up for his bride and grandkids.

The service was recorded for those who might like to watch it. There is a slideshow at the beginning, and if you want to just listen to just our part, we start at 24:05. If you’d rather read, I also included the part I wrote for John and me below, although John ad-libbed a little when it was his turn to speak, so it’s not exactly the same. 🙂

This was the text from the Program:

Born in rural Alabama to Earline and James Douglas Warren, Sr., J. D. grew up as the oldest of four in Childersburg, Alabama. “Sonny,” as he was known by his family, had outstanding academic talents and a faithful work ethic that culminated in his PhD in Chemistry at Florida State. He married his fellow graduate student, Lamons Lord, in 1966 and they settled in Tallahassee while he began his 35-year career with the Florida Department of Agriculture.

The Warrens’ family grew to include two daughters and their husbands: Andrea and Chris Pound, and Abby and John Gjertsen. He loved to spend time with his grandkids: James, Valor, Percy, Mystery, and Glory Gjertsen. J.D. and Lamons would be celebrating 55 years of marriage later this month.

J.D. enjoyed being with his family, reading, working in his garden, playing bridge and board games, and watching FSU sports. His curiosity led him to do extensive historical research on Biblical topics and on his Alabama hometown. He was a longtime member of Killearn United Methodist Church and enjoyed his adult Sunday School class, the Science and Theology discussion group, and delivering food to needy families from the Food Bank.

We will always remember that J.D. had a gentle,compassionate spirit, a humble, uncomplaining attitude, and a quiet, strong love. “Many a man claims to have unfailing love, but a faithful man who can find?” Prov. 20:6

“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.’” John 11:25

Thank you all for coming today to celebrate my Dad’s life. I’d like to share a few things that I love about him.

My dad dabbled in woodworking and home improvement, and like a lot of guys, he loved tools. Not power tools, like you might expect, but certain types of basic tools. He did a lot of projects by himself; he put rain gutters up by himself not that long ago, which is hard for me to imagine, since it seems like you’d need someone to hold the other end of the gutter up. But he figured out a way, and he used the tool that I think was his favorite: the clamp.

A clamp can hold something for you while you work on the other end, like the rain gutter. It can also squeeze two things together after you have attached them with glue. Either way, it adds stability so you can fiddle with other things while the clamp does the work of holding tight.

I think I can see why my Dad had an affinity for clamps.

Clamps are not flashy or complex. They don’t scream “master craftsman” or Chip Gaines. In this low-key, supporting-actor respect, they are a lot like my dad. 

Someone asked him about a month ago, just kind of jokingly, “What is your superpower?” Like, everyone has something they are really good at, what about you? He paused a long time, but then he came out with: (pause) “I do not claim one.” That was one of my Dad’s most defining characteristics: his humility. He hated the idea of bragging or showing off or drawing attention to himself. He was hard working and faithful and did not need anyone but God to know about it. When you think about it, that itself is a kind of superpower.

Dad actually had a lot to be proud of. He was his high school salutatorian and the first in his family to attend college. As a sophomore at Jacksonville State, his skill in science was so advanced that he was asked to be the TA for the junior- and senior-level lab courses. He earned his PhD at FSU while being one of the first scientists to use nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy to analyze chemical compounds. These are just a few of his accomplishments that he probably never mentioned to you.

Clamps aren’t complicated. The one thing they do well is to squeeze tight and hold on. That stability and constancy are two more qualities they share with my dad.

He spent his whole professional career at one place: the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, first as a chemist, and eventually as Assistant Director of Food Safety. He took his mandate to serve consumers seriously, and I remember how long his work hours were when I was a kid. 

One of Dad’s proudest accomplishments was exposing and dismantling a group of meat packers who were bribing inspectors to not report their health infractions. At home, after he narrated their evil schemes, we nicknamed the criminals the Meat Boys. 

The other accomplishment was a dramatic sting operation on a fertilizer company that was making false claims about the contents of their product. Dad was the only one who could decipher the company’s chemical records to prove their crime. He received death threats from the powerful fertilizer company to try to keep him from testifying as the state’s key witness. 

Taking down the Meat Boys and the crooked Fertilizer company took integrity and tenacity, but once Dad got ahold of them, he would not let go.

The first time Mom remembers seeing Dad was when she accidentally bumped into him on a curving stairwell at FSU. Her first impression was of his large size, but as she got to know him later, she was impressed by how gentle he was. Dad had a kind spirit that loved to care for the weak, whether it was a dying plant, a baby bird that fell out of its nest, or a fragile little child. When Dad encountered brokenness, he reached out with a quiet and nurturing love that was consistent and committed.

Dad was faithful to his bride for their entire marriage, which lasted one month short of 55 happy years. He was absolutely the same person in private as he was in public. Dad worked to give us a stable life, more stable than his home life had been; and he tried to help others become stable, too. At work he avoided downsizing employees and instead tried to offer them different positions. At home, his advice to us was always to choose the safest option, play the long game, do your best, and not rush into anything. 

John: Twenty four years ago, I called J.D. to ask for his blessing to marry his daughter. I told him I was planning to ask Abby to marry me that weekend. J.D. paused a long time and said, “That doesn’t sound advisable.” That scared me to death. I thought, what kind of family am I trying to get into? Then I realized that he had misunderstood me and thought I wanted to marry Abby immediately. He wanted our bond to last and was trying to figure out how to tell me gently that eloping wouldn’t be the best start. 

After we had been married a few years, Lamons and J.D. taught us to play Bridge. Lots of times, I would bid, but if Abby had no idea how to respond, J.D. would patiently explain all the features of my hand and exactly why I bid the way I did. He was so good at deducing all this from a single bid that it made me feel like I was holding my hand backwards so he could see all my cards. He grasped much more of the game than we could.

J.D. owned clamps of all kinds and sizes. His motto was, “You can never have enough clamps.” I know he believed it because I’ve seen his garage. 

We’ve been saying goodbye to J.D. in increments for a long time now, as the dementia and heart failure have gradually worn down his strong body and sharp mind. The day before he died, he wasn’t talking anymore and he wasn’t walking anymore, but Lamons sat with him and he held her hand. 

After all that time and all those changes, J.D.’s heart still told him to hold on tight.