Almost 95 years ago, my dad was born and given the name, Chester. At the age of 6, at a country church gospel singing, he was met by a kind man, who went out of his way to be nice to him, helping him get a drink from the water bucket, and simply talking to him for a few minutes. It made such an impression on little Chester that he told his parents not to call him Chester anymore, but that he was changing his name to Burwood. Of course, they kept calling him Chester, but he wouldn’t answer. When they would finally say, “Burwood,” he would answer immediately. He was so persistent, they changed his name to Burwood. They were so persistent, they had another little boy and named him Chester! Yesterday, my dad died, after living a good and blessed life, and tomorrow I will preach his funeral. Today, there’s another Burwood at home with Jesus, and there’s one less Burwood walking on this earth. I doubt that leaves very many. He was a great dad.