I’ve written biographies for three people, and all three have now died. The latest was Archie Cameron, a missionary in Honduras. He died last Thursday morning at age 87. Still living in Honduras. Since 1952. An amazing guy.

I spent four years on his biography, which is wrapped around a history of our mission work in Honduras. It was the most satisfying piece of writing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done a lot of writing. I interviewed 40-some people for it, and did huge amounts of research beyond that. We unveiled it during the 2001 US National Conference, which Archie was able to attend. It was a big, big deal for him–and his family–and it wouldn’t have happened without the book. So it’s highly satisfying on that level, too.

My heroes have always been missionaries. Archie ranks right up there. He’s one of our United Brethren giants. He started the Spanish work in Honduras–before him, we were affiliated only with an English-speaking group of about five churches, which withdrew from us within a year of Archie’s arrival. Numerous villages throughout northern Honduras first heard an evangelical witness as a result of Archie and his band of new Christians from La Ceiba. It’s a great legacy for us.

When I say I’ve written three biographies, that’s not entirely accurate. One was a matter of rewriting (someone else did the hard work of interviewing and compiling info). That one was on the life of Orville Merillat, founder of Merillat Cabinets and a major-league philanthropist. The book was shipped down to me to rewrite. I reorganized all of the material into different chapters, converted it from third person to first person, and rewrote large sections of it. Dr. James Kennedy’s organization published it, after first including a lengthy, highly self-serving and (to me) inappropriate introduction.

My name isn’t mentioned anywhere in the book, and that’s totally okay with me. But I must say: at Orville’s funeral, it was a bit surreal hearing one of the speakers read a long passage from the book which tells of Orville’s conversion experience. That was one of the passages I rewrote entirely. In fact, I think I mostly used material from a separate interview I had done with him a year or so before. Anyway, it was surreal listening to that and thinking, “That sounds pretty good.” A bit like an out-of-body experience.

The same thing happened at the funeral of Clyde Meadows, the most prominent UB of the 20th Century. I spent four years on his “as told to” autobiography. I would go to Columbus, Ohio, and we’d retire to his office in the basement, where I would throw questions at him and he would tell me stories in response, stories which were duly captured on my mini tape recorder. His book was published in 1993. When he died in 1999, a part of the book was read at the funeral, and once again, it was very gratifying.

And so, you know what I’m wondering now. Was part of Archie’s book read at his funeral? Even in Spanish? (Yes, the book was translated into Spanish.) I don’t care if it was. That’s not why I write these things. But I’m curious.