Were my uncle, Montgomery Lane “Buck” Preston, Jr., alive today, he would be 88 years old. Fate, however, had a very different plan. On December 22, 1955, just over 69 years ago, Buck was killed in an auto accident on Highway 221 between Hazlehurst and Uvalda in, ironically enough, Montgomery County. For those familiar with that stretch of road, the accident happened over the hill just north of what is now Buzzy’s Truck Stop. Buck was 18 and had just finished his first semester at Mercer, where he planned to attend law school.
It’s a story I’ve told before, most recently in a video on December 23 of last year. Buck was a scholar, an athlete, and a young man of impeccable character. He was the oldest of my grandparents’ three sons, born on January 24, 1937.
His death stunned the community and opened a wound in our family that remains exposed to this day. Not long after Buck’s death, the Douglas Lions Club created the Buck Preston Sportsmanship Award, presented to a young man at Coffee High School who exhibits the traits that Buck possessed – character, a commitment to academics, sportsmanship, and athleticism.
To the best of my knowledge, since its inception, my family has played little if any role in selecting the recipient. I know that in my lifetime, I never heard my grandfather, father, or uncle mention being a part of the selection process. Neither my brother nor I have ever had any communication with the Lions Club prior to the award presentation.
When my younger son, Zean, was in the seventh grade, I began to notice a few things. He was a good athlete – far better than anyone else in our immediate family had been. He had never made a B. He also seemed to possess a strong moral compass that kept him on the right track when others in his circle of friends began to wade into troubled waters.
It was then that I began to think, He could be a Buck Preston Award candidate in a few years.
I never said anything to anyone. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was thinking. I didn’t want him to feel any pressure to live up to any pre-determined standard, especially that of a deceased relative.
No Preston has ever won the Buck Preston Award. Four of us have graduated from Coffee High School. I can only speak for myself but I can unequivocally state that when I was a high school student, I did not possess the qualities that the Buck Preston Award recognizes.
As Zean’s senior year approached, I began to think more and more about the award. Of course I wanted him to receive it – but only if he deserved it. As I replayed the trajectory of his high school years, he seemed to check the boxes: His grades were excellent, he stayed out of trouble and never gave us any cause for concern, and his athletic ability spoke for itself. Zean refused to give up, even when the trajectory of his career changed and injuries attempted to derail his senior season. He played through pain and disappointment, never complaining, always working.
Zean applied for the Buck Preston Award, which now carries a $1,000 scholarship. I must confess that I did consider making a few phone calls on his behalf after he submitted his application. I can make this next statement with 100 percent truthfulness – I did not interject myself or our family into the selection process. At the end of the day, if Zean received the award, he would do so on his own, based on his hard work and accomplishments over the last four years.
As I sat in Coffee High’s Performing Arts Center Monday night when the Lions Club had the floor, I was hopeful but not confident. Zean was one of many deserving student-athletes with impressive resumes.
It is amazing how quickly large expanses of time can flash before your eyes. When I heard his name called, seven years played out, seemingly at once. Football, baseball, Olympic weightlifting, track. Long nights after practices and games keeping him on task with his studies. Tens of thousands of pounds in the weightroom, if not more. All those miserable summer practices. The trips we couldn’t take. The short weekends and never-ending road trips.
Interspersed in that reel were the images and stories I’ve heard about Buck. I obviously never knew him – his accident happened 17 years before I was born. I’ve only seen pictures and heard stories. Through those recollections, I’ve developed a portrait of what I believe he was like. That likeness was juxtaposed with the moment we were in at Coffee High School as Zean walked across the stage. It was surreal, almost eerie.
I texted my sister the following: “Call Dad. Tell him Zean won the Buck Preston Award.” Immediately, my dad started calling. He knew Honors Night was still going on. He knew I couldn’t talk. But he couldn’t help himself. 6:33. 6:37. 6:41. 6:42. 7:02. 7:06. Every time he left a voice message. The last few years have not been kind to my dad. For a few minutes on Monday night, he experienced an excitement and euphoria that he has not felt in a long time.
Zean doesn’t understand how important the Buck Preston Award is to our family. He doesn’t fully appreciate the legacy that Buck left and the larger-than-life figure that he was, even at 18 years of age. Even after reading this – if he even does – he may not completely grasp the weight of this award.
Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should have done a better job of sharing our family’s heritage with him. There’s still time. Perhaps we will have a conversation in the future. He may become inquisitive at some point and ask questions.
Or he may hang the plaque and never think about it again.
I am glad the Lions Club approved of Zean’s resume. My grandfather certainly would.
And so would Uncle Buck.