About PappawPyle
Welcome!
David Pyle has a BS in Business and Public Administration from the University of Texas at Dallas. He has been a senior, associate, youth and music pastor. Most of his work within the church has been related to music ministry. He currently leads the worship in the classic service of his home church every Sunday. David also volunteers by leading worship at the Union Gospel Mission in Dallas. David currently is an English teacher for high school seniors.
PappawPyle
What in the world is a Pappaw Pyle? I am Pappaw Pyle. Okay, who in the world is Pappaw Pyle? Why would someone tag themselves with a moniker such as that? After all, it marks him as an old man and with a name like Pyle, likely a goofball like Gomer. Fair questions, all.
My background is anything but normal. Let me tell you a couple of stories to help you understand me and the kind of person I am.
No Temerity at Ten
When I was about ten years old, we moved to Taiwan. My dad was transferred to CCK Air Base in Taichung during the Vietnam Conflict and we got to go with him. Having lived in Dallas for the prior four years, I was none too happy about this. I was leaving all my friends behind as I was about to rise to the top of the heap at San Jacinto Elementary (fifth grade). This is part of the military lifestyle. You learn to adapt to new surroundings every two to four years as the soldier, sailor, airman or marine is reassigned to various locations. One either learns to make new friends or becomes an introvert. I was of the former inclination.
When we first arrived in Taichung, we lived in a hostel, until our base housing could be secured. We were one of the few English-speaking families in the hostel and most of our needs were taken care of by a Taiwanese man named Peter. He spoke enough English for us to communicate with him. Of course, none of us spoke any Mandarin Chinese at this point.
The first friend I made in-country was a young boy, I presumed to be about my age, named Ti (pronounced like the latter half of necktie). He spoke no English and I spoke not a whit of his language. Nonetheless, we played all over that place. After a few days, Ti disappeared. When my dad asked where he had gone, Peter informed him that he had been sent home. He was an employee of the hostel and was supposed to be working, not playing. Child labor laws were of certainty not the same in Taiwan as in the United States. I felt bad for a bit but was glad to have had a playmate for a few days.
After we had been there a few months, our family took a trip with a couple of missionary families up into the mountains of Taiwan. Dad drove our 1964 blue station wagon (a Chevrolet Bel Air, gigantic for that country) east from Taichung up into the mountains. We got to witness the first Christain wedding ever held in that particular aborigines village. On the way, we saw some interesting things, one of the most intriguing of which was a cave we encountered on a rest stop.
While we all got out and stretched our legs, one of us spotted a cave opening nearby. I walked over with another of the kids and discovered the cave was filled with 3’ tall clay containers. (Okay, I hardly ever walked anywhere – I sprinted over would be better.) The next natural question was, “I wonder what’s in them?” Lifting the lid off one, we discovered it was filled with bones – human bones. We had discovered a burial cave.
One of us came up with the bright idea of taking a picture of what we had found. Everyone else said they wouldn’t touch the bones. Not me. A ten-year-old, I didn’t understand the concept of grave desecration, so I held up the skull from the urn we had uncovered and someone snapped a picture. Somewhere in my parents’ photo album that picture still exists today. I have never been particularly shy and am often willing to take chances others may eschew.
Educational Excellence
I am also one who uses words like, “eschew,” without trying to be pretentious. Again, I come by it honestly. Mom was my 9th grade English teacher and in 10th grade my Creative Writing teacher back in high school. I grew up around proper grammar and excelled in my English classes. When I decided in my mid-50s to transition into a teaching career, I chose English as the certification test I would take. I had many warn me that it is among the hardest tests because of the essay requirement. I studied, refreshed my memory (it had been almost 40 years since I took an English course) and passed on my first try. Test-taking has always been a strength of mine.
The blessing of being a good test-taker is not lost on me. For the past five years, I have taught English at a local public high school. It has been quite an eye-opening experience. Some of my students’ writings I save to remind me of the blessed life I have led and why my efforts with them are important. This job gives me an inside view of the bureaucracy and administration of public education. As a result, I have developed strong opinions on contemporary public education. On occasion, I will share some articles on that topic.
My career has not been a straight line but a varied collection of callings and jobs. I have held a variety of positions. I have been a Custom Clothier and a Youth, Music, Associate, and Head Pastor. As well, I have been a Transportation Specialist (Taxi, Limo and/or Uber/Lyft driver.) I worked as an Air Conditioning Manager, Salesman, and Customer Service Representative. I am currently both a Volleyball Referee and a High School Teacher. Working as many as three jobs at a time to pay the bills, I have even sold plasma for diaper money a few times in my younger years. I am always willing to do whatever is necessary to take care of my family.
Gravy from God
This part of my life is the gravy part, something I had no right to expect which I get to enjoy, nonetheless. As a teenager, I had a premonition that I would die before I reached 21 and would never get to marry. I’m not sure why. I blew past that in fine fashion but came close to losing my life more than once. Likely the closest I have come to departing this mortal plane came when I was driving limos for the first time.
I had five kids at home between the ages of 1 and 8 and was between regular-paying jobs. Having driven taxis for a time to make ends meet, I heard about a short-term gig (about a month) driving limos for a royal family while they visited our town. I interviewed, got the job and had been at it for a couple of weeks already. I wore a suit and every day drove home the Lincoln Town Car I used for the job.
Several of us had spent the day sitting around waiting for our charges to go somewhere. Finally, about 1:30 am, our supervisor came into the drivers’ room and told several of us we could go home for the day. We were to report back the next morning. I drove the 30 minutes home, listening to a rebroadcast of a talk show on the radio. I parked in front of my house every night, but that night I sat in the car until the end of the segment, to hear the last of the show.
As I got out of the car, I heard someone tires squealing in the alley behind my house. My first thought was, “They’re going to wake up my kids and I don’t want to deal with that. I want to go to sleep.” My next thought was about the danger, even at that time of night, because of my second-oldest daughter. She had recently crossed the alley in the middle of the night. She went to her friend’s house, rang the doorbell and asked if her friend could play. In my mind, I saw the driver as posing a threat to my child at that moment.
The alley emptied out next to our house. As the driver paused, appearing to be intending to turn away from me, I shouted out, “Hey! Watch out!” Why he did what he did next, I’ll likely never know. Instead of turning away, he whipped the wheels right and gunned his engine, sending the tires into smoky protest. As he hurtled toward me (in the space of about two seconds), I thought, “He’s going to pull up beside me and yell at me.” Then I thought, “He might have a gun. I’d better be ready to squat down and use his door for cover.” That idea fled when I realized he was coming right at me. My next thought was, “He’s going to slam on his brakes to try and scare me.” I realized just before impact, “There’s no way he can stop. He’s trying to run me down.”
Instinct kicked in then. It was too late to retreat in front of the car I had parked. All I could do was to fend off the car with my hands on the hood as the impact occurred and jump. Why jump? I had always thought when watching TV shows or movies where people would get run down, “Why didn’t they jump? I’d much prefer to be above the car than under it.” So I jumped and I did end up above the car. As I flew about twenty feet through the air, I did a 540-degree somersault. As I spun, I hit the concrete street with my hands, head, and chest in rapid succession. The tires on the car continued to protest as they passed beneath and beside me. I was knocked unconscious from the impact. On the street between the Town Car and the car in front of me, I was not exposed to further damage.
Upon coming to, I trudged up the slight incline of our yard to my front door. I opened the screen and unlocked the door but could not muster the hand strength to turn the door handle and open it. Still fearing to wake the kids, I rang the bell until my wife came to the door. I told her, “Someone tried to kill me,” and slumped to the front porch. The screen door held open by my back, I was waiting for the ambulance, police, etc. to arrive.
Both arms were broken. I had a concussion and multiple abrasions and contusions. It could have been worse. As a result of the attack, I was disabled, unable to work for four months, with both arms in casts. But what came of this?
My wife and I learned how precious our church family is, as both Christain neighbors and members of our fellowship helped us out in our time of need. For months after my casts came off, I couldn’t pick up much of anything and despaired of ever being able to hoist my young children in the air again. In time, I was able to work again, sitting down, doing sales over the phone. After a while, as I gained strength, I was able again to use my arms well, though they would never again be as strong as before. When I found myself able to hold my small children again I knew I would be okay.
I adopted a new attitude toward my life thereafter. To me, the rest of my life is gravy from God, a bonus. This boy who thought he’d never reach 21 and could have died in his early 30s was allowed to carry on. He lived to walk his daughters down the aisle and was present at the birth of all six (so far) of his grandchildren). He has seen God work miracles of all sorts throughout the years.
Expect Eclectic Excellence
Most important in my life are my faith and my family. Career goals and all other factors have always fallen far behind. Some of my work on this site will be a joint effort with my wife and/or will include the work of some of my kids or grandkids. PappawPyle is to be, if nothing else, a family affair. As a result, my writing, narrative, podcasting, and publishing will deal with these subjects. Politics and educational issues will come into play, as will random observations about most anything.
I hope you will enjoy your visit to my site. Please feel free to leave comments below or send me inquiries by email.