There is a quaint but cherished rule of decorum in the House whereby in floor debate members do not refer to one another by name.  So, whereas Senate members speak of “Senator Bryan” or “Senator Carmichael,” such is considered a breach of etiquette in the House.  At our end of the Capitol, we refer to a colleague by his or her home county.  It is “the Gentleman from Panola,” “the Lady from Holmes,” and so on.

There are four “gentlemen from Lauderdale” privileged to serve in the 122-member House.  Each is worthy, I hope and believe, of the sobriquet “gentleman,” and also of the title “Honorable” traditionally ascribed to elected Representatives.  Our senior colleague, however, quite simply defined those terms.  Indeed, I think that if you look up the word “gentleman” in the dictionary, surely there must be a picture of Rep. Charles Young alongside.

Charles Young died Wednesday in Meridian.  Charles was plagued by ill health the past few years, so I suppose in one sense his death is not wholly a surprise.  Still, for those who loved Charles (which is, to say, everyone who knew him), his death nevertheless is a shock.

So many words aptly describe Charles:  gentlemanly, courteous, wise, courtly, respected, respectful, loving, beloved.  If I were forced to pick just one, however, the word would be “kind.”  Never have I known a kinder soul; certainly not in public life.

Charles took me under his wing when I was elected in 1999.  Our relationship surprised some folks; I was a white, freshman Republican, and Charles, my goodness, was a powerful committee chairman, scion of the Legislative Black Caucus, and a prominent Democratic leader.  Charles and I naturally held different political perspectives on the “big“ issues of the day, and his partisan outlook most often ran counter to mine, and vice versa.

None of that got in the way of our mutual friendship, which only deepened through the years.  Charles never was one to bother with petty partisanship.  He wanted me to succeed, both as a legislator and as a person, and he went out of his way to make that happen.  What better friend can any person claim?

Charles liked to tease me about “belonging in Washington.”  When Chip Pickering retired, Charles urged me to consider running for Congress.  I teased back by saying he wanted me to run just so the Democrats would be sure to win.  But Charles was serious in his encouragement.  Although that (running for Congress) was never an itch I felt any need to scratch, and though he undoubtedly was overly influenced by our friendship, it nevertheless honored me that a man of Charles' standing held me in such esteem.

The literal meaning of “Christian” is “Little Christ.”  The idea, of course, is that the life of a believer should exemplify his or her striving to be like our Lord in every way possible.  Few men I have known fit that bill as well as Charles Young.  Charles was one of those truly Christ-like individuals through whom the Light of the Holy Spirit was evident in everything I ever saw him do.  His life, above all, was not about his many accomplishments; rather, it was about the moral and spiritual example he set for his fellow man.

I love Charles Young.  That hardly makes me special.  As I’ve said, everyone loves Charles.  His death leaves a vacancy in the House which in due course will be filled, and life will go on.  But the painful hole existing today in the hearts of his colleagues, well, that is going to take a lot longer to heal.



Rep. Greg Snowden writes a regular online blog for The Clarion-Ledger.  The above article, originally posted April 29, is reprinted with the permission of The Clarion-Ledger.