Tim Griffin

Mr. Speaker, I rise today in support of my bill, H.R. 4355, to designate the U.S. Post Office located at 201 B Street in Perryville, Arkansas, as the ``Harold George Bennett Post Office.''

Staff Sergeant Harold George Bennett is one of Arkansas' finest sons, and he dedicated his life to serving our country. Sergeant Bennett was born on October 16, 1940, in Thornburg, Arkansas, a small town near the outskirts of the Ouachita National Forest. A graduate of Perryville High School, he enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1957.

Sergeant Bennett served as an airborne infantryman with the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, where he earned his Master Parachute Wings and Expert Infantry Badge. He completed Special Forces training in 1963, and in 1964, volunteered to serve in South Vietnam as a Special Forces adviser with the Military Assistance Command.

On December 29, 1964, his unit was airlifted to a small village after it had been overrun by a division of Viet Cong. Immediately upon landing, Sergeant Bennett's unit was confronted by a well dug-in regiment of enemy forces, and despite fighting furiously and courageously throughout the afternoon, his unit was overrun. Concerned for the safety of his fellow servicemembers, he twice directed American helicopter pilots attempting to rescue him to stand down, and was captured by the Viet Cong.

Sergeant Bennett spent 179 days as a POW and attempted to escape three times. During his last attempt, he injured an enemy soldier, and his captors executed him on June 25, 1965. As a

prisoner of war, the only thing more remarkable than the courageous resistance he displayed throughout his captivity was his steadfast devotion to duty, honor, and country. His faith in God and the trust of his fellow prisoners was unshakeable. Only 24 years old, Sergeant Bennett was the first American POW killed in Vietnam, and, like many other U.S. servicemen who lost their lives there, his remains have never been returned home.

Nearly four decades later, in 2004, Sergeant Bennett was inducted into the Ranger Hall of Fame at Fort Benning. In 2006, his family was presented with his Combat Infantryman's Badge, National Defense Service Medal, Vietnam Service Medal, Prisoner of War Medal, Army Good Conduct Medal, and Purple Heart. And in 2010, Sergeant Bennett's family was presented with his Silver Star.

Mr. Speaker, Sergeant Bennett was a selfless young man who answered his Nation's call to service and placed duty and honor above all else. Although he may no longer be with us, the example and selflessness of this brave young Arkansan will forever live on in our hearts. While a grateful nation could never adequately express its indebtedness to men like Staff Sergeant Harold George Bennett, it should take every opportunity to honor them and their families for the sacrifice they have paid on our behalf.

Mr. Chairman, I have an amendment at the desk.

Mr. Chairman, I want to begin by thanking Chairman Latham.

I yield to the gentleman from Iowa.

I want to, again, thank Chairman Latham, who has made this possible, working with his staff. I want to thank all the bipartisan support for this amendment from Mr. Kind, Mr. Walz, and Mr. Terry, as well as my staff.

I want to acknowledge the success that this builds on from the omnibus bill passed earlier this year, which incorporated my amendment from the FY14 T-HUD bill to increase funding for DOT's Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration, or PHMSA, over lower priority programs.

Mr. Chairman, on March 29, 2014, the ExxonMobil Pegasus pipeline in Mayflower, Arkansas, the Second Congressional District, suffered a catastrophic accidental rupture.

It inundated nearby homes and businesses with thousands of gallons of spilled oil. I am committed to making things right for the people of Mayflower and ensuring that another spill never occurs again in Arkansas.

PHMSA is the Federal Government's primary agency for regulating and ensuring the safe and secure movement of oil and petroleum products to industry and consumers through America's interstate pipelines. As an interstate pipeline, the inspection of the Pegasus pipeline was and is PHMSA's responsibility.

Pipelines move nearly two-thirds of the oil and petroleum products transported annually. Interstate pipelines deliver over 11.3 billion barrels of petroleum each year. The cost to transport a barrel of petroleum products from Houston to the New York Harbor is about a dollar.

American pipelines are, without question, the safest way to move oil, and ensuring the safe operation of pipelines that move oil from one State to another is unquestionably a necessary function of the Federal Government.

Although the amount of oil spilled from these pipelines is a minimal fraction of what we safely transport every day throughout the country, there is more we can do to ensure they are operated safely.

My amendment would increase the budget for PHMSA's operational expenses by $500,000 to further ensure the safety of our Nation's pipeline, and it will be taking this money from another account.

This appropriation finances the operational support costs for PHMSA and will help keep these pipelines and the communities like Mayflower that surround them safe from other tragic but preventable accidents, without spending additional dollars.

I ask that the House support this amendment.

I thank the chairman for supporting this amendment, and I yield back the balance of my time.

Mr. Speaker, today I submit the homily of Theodosia Murphy Nolan, a legendary Arkansas businesswoman and philanthropist, delivered on May 28, 2014, and authored by her godson, the Reverend Doctor Christoph Keller III.

Theodosia; from theos (God) and dosis (gift). ``Gift of

God.''

As Jesus was passing through Samaria, he met a woman at a

well. Thirsty, he asked for water. ``Who are you,'' she said,

``a Jew, a man, asking me, a woman of Samaria, for water?''

That's when he said: ``If you knew the gift of God, and who

it is that asks you for a drink, he would give you living

water.'' If you knew the Gift of God. If you knew Theodosia.

If you knew Theodosia, then you know the story; that her

father was already forty-five, her mother thirty--old for

those days--when they married; that in the first two

pregnancies, they lost their baby. Now came a daughter,

beautiful and healthy. With thankful hearts, they named her

Theodosia.

You know that she grew up gentle, respectful and devoted to

her parents, but not meek; that at sixteen, she owned and

flew an airplane, setting a dangerous example for her sister,

in the opinion of my father; and that at eighteen, she

married William, over objections from her parents. She was

too young; about William, there were questions. As she stood

her ground opposite her parents, she was being every inch

their daughter. Firm and loving, they gave their children

rope to make and accept the consequences of their own

decisions. It was her life and she would get to live it as

she saw fit.

So how did she live it? As a firm and loving wife and

mother, devoted to her family--and with William, who was a

keeper.

If you knew Theodosia, you know Bubba. For our guests,

Bubba is our term of endearment for Bertie Wilson Murphy,

Theodosia's mother. I guess Charlie Nolan must have been the

first to call her that. Eventually, Bubba was her name to

everyone in El Dorado.

When Bubba died almost forty years ago, Theodosia--now

``Dosia,'' thanks to Diny--assumed the matriarchal mantle for

our wider family, including siblings Charles, Polly and

Bertie, plus all their progeny and in-laws. Ours has been a

fruitful, multiplying clan, now sprawled out across the

planet from Seattle to Beirut. The family center, though, is

here in El Dorado: 900 N. Madison, where you can dangle your

feet in the pool, sucking scuppernongs and muscadines.

If you've read King Lear, or Faulkner, or Genesis and 2nd

Samuel, or the Wall Street Journal, or watched Dallas, then

you should know that life in families isn't simple,

necessarily.

Theodosia, however, doesn't bring to mind the complexity

of family life. She represents its grace. It was Robert Frost

who said: ``Home is the place where, when you have to go

there, they have to take you in.'' True enough, I suppose,

but it doesn't capture Theodosia. With her, you wanted to go

there and she wanted to take you in. She wanted to feed you a

heart-healthy breakfast: quail and scrambled eggs, Talla Bena

sausage with a side order of bacon, pancakes with Ribbon Cane

syrup (maple syrup only if you begged, served with a slight

frown of disapproval). She wanted you to plop down beside her

on the couch, get comfortable, and tell her the latest

chapter of your story. She would know that you weren't

telling her the whole truth. You would know that, even if you

did, she would love you. There was nothing you could do or

say that would warrant expulsion. You were family, period.

A word to my younger Nolan cousins: I used the word

``grace.'' If you have heard that word and wondered what it

means, then think of where you stood with Dosia.

Remember your worst day. You know that on that day she

still loved you. That is grace. Jesus made that point through

parables, like the prodigal son returning to his father. You

can understand the father in that parable just by knowing

Dosia. Once you understand that father, you know God.

The force of Theodosia's presence and example on our

family history is impossible to calculate, but I am thinking

that her impact was enormous. After everything, and no small

thanks to her, we know our family as a blessing. We won't let

it be less.

If you knew Theodosia, you know that, not only was she

devoted to a family, she was devoted to a place: El Dorado,

Arkansas.

Let's think on this place. Growing up in Arkansas, we

learn early on of our three distinct geological regions:

mountains to the north and west, delta to the east and, in

between, spreading south from Little Rock, the gulf coastal

plane. Of the three regions, this is the one that seems to

have lacked a national identity: Hillbillies, they know,

delta planters, they know, but who are we?

Well, there is a lot of wood, so I will start with that.

Wood means deer, and I will mention that. Then came oil. My

wife Julie recently took on a project to salvage and restore

a Steinway piano at Central High School in Little Rock. This

instrument had been purchased for the school in 1927. Julie

tracked down the original Steinway distributor's ledger that

recorded the sale. That particular ledger page shows 73 sales

from throughout the Mid-South. Looking it over, Julie noticed

a sale, December 28, 1926, to Bertie Wilson Murphy. When

Julie showed me her find, I noticed that, of the entries on

that page, no fewer than twenty were to buyers in El Dorado,

Arkansas. It made perfect sense! The Busey-Armstrong well

came in 1921. Through the twenties, El Dorado was a boomtown.

What are you going to do with all that new money? The good

citizens of El Dorado were going to purchase Steinways, which

we now know is what people did with extra cash before the

invention of the bass boat. Just three weeks ago, Julie

brought that ledger down to 900 North Madison and showed it

to Theodosia. They sat down on the couch beside Bubba's

Steinway, and Julie caught Theodosia up on Keller family

stories.

El Dorado's early glory day was back before the great

depression. Even then, it would not have been the kind of

town that is full of its own importance. There are such

places. Great ladies in such places are not called Bubba. I

have lived in such places and I appreciated and enjoyed them.

But they don't care. They don't need our loyalty and love. If

we want the kind of instant self-esteem they offer, we can

have it just by living there. They give us that, needing

nothing in return. These places are in New York or

California. I am told there may be some in Texas. They are

not in Arkansas. They are not El Dorado.

The big oil play petered out and the economics of the

region began to favor dispersion: raise your kids and send

them off, pack up the Steinways and move on. But El Dorado

defied that fate with muscular determination, as well as

cultured sensibility and aesthetic flair. Does that sound

like anyone we know?

As much as Theodosia's love for family was unconditional,

so was her commitment to South Arkansas. The taxes are a

little higher here than Florida or Texas, the lights a little

brighter in New York, but she belonged to El Dorado, case

closed. She stayed put, as did her brother; and, as they

insisted, so did the companies they founded. So Madison

stayed too, with Suzanne; and Bill, with Deborah; and Bob

with Candi, and in came Claiborne with Elaine; now Raymond

with Liza; and back come Mike and Sydney. And now El Dorado

is recognized throughout the country as the town where anyone

and everyone can get a college education. There are no such

towns in Texas, New York or California. El Dorado has an

impressive new identity; and a remarkable town square; and

a beautiful new school; and a growing reputation for

commitment to the arts. Also, the Wildcats are doing well.

All this grew as much from heart as calculation. This is a

little bit like faith. It has to stand the tests of reason--

in this case, economic reason--and it does, but there are

other factors in the blend: appreciation for tradition;

memories of loved ones; love of neighbor. As Newman said of

faith, belief in El Dorado lives in the desire for that which

it confesses. There are things between earth and heaven, my

dear Horatio, undreamt of by Investor's Weekly. To Theodosia,

such things were real and exceedingly important--and in some

small part because she saw them as such, they took hold.

Through grace, grit and imagination, El Dorado perseveres

against the tide.

If you knew Theodosia, you know where else her love of

place and family coalesced: the Coast and Cherokee. When we

say ``coast'' we don't mean the Pacific Palisades, we mean

Pass Christian and the Mississippi Sound--waveless, brown and

shallow. We couldn't wait to get there: slathered up with Off

and Coppertone, fishing from the pier, catching crabs and

speckled trout and occasionally a stingray; swinging in a

hammock with a good or trashy book; zooming up and down the

Gulf Coast Highway; eating better than kings. All that, we

lost to Hurricane Katrina. Even the house that Bubba built

couldn't hold against that primal tide. Safely inland,

Cherokee endures.

If you knew Theodosia, you know that, as we reckon long,

she lived a long time: from Model T to Prius. Not that she

would drive a Prius: she belonged in Thunderbirds. She lived

through social revolutions. I always knew what Polly Keller

thought about those revolutions as they happened. I also had

a solid take on William Nolan's views, which reliably ran

opposite to Polly Keller's. Theodosia held her opinions

closer to the vest. She seemed neither restless with the way

things were, nor much disturbed by the thought that they were

changing. There would still be town and family to attend to,

come what may.

I do know that in 1966 she supported David Pryor's run for

Congress in the Fourth District, because I read that in his

book (actually, my son Christoph read the whole book and

showed this to me. I read only the two or three sentences

concerning Theodosia.) In the primary, Charles Murphy was

backing Richard Arnold. (Show me a congressional election

from New York to California that involved such commendable

opponents.) The battle went to Pryor and Theodosia over

Charles and Richard Arnold. As I said, meek she was not.

Watch over thy child Theodosia, O Lord, as her days

increase. Bless and guide her, wherever she may be.

If you know Theodosia, you know her faith: Methodist, with

the occasional Episcopal accoutrements; and you know that she

called her children, and their children, and theirs, on their

birthdays, to pray with them from the Book of Common Prayer.

Strengthen her when she stands, comfort her when

discouraged or sorrowful . . .

Well, certain aspects of that prayer are no more

applicable to Theodosia. She leaves sorrow and discouragement

behind. She leaves you, her beloved family, with that prayer,

to say for one another as you carry on. As you say that

prayer, as I know you'll do, you will think of her. As you

think of her, remember her in faith. The faith in that prayer

imbues our attitude towards place and family--actually, our

attitude towards everything, Theodosia's death included. At

least, it should; and for her, it did.

This place, First United Methodist, was the church through

which she lived that faith through all her many years. Here,

she commended the souls of Charles and Bertie her parents;

William her husband; Charles her brother; and Bill her son,

to the good Lord who was grace itself, incarnate.

If you know Theodosia, you know that, good Methodist that

she was, her faith in Christ was first and last a matter of

the heart.

She had a good one, didn't she. She was a gift.