BECKLEY — Say of Me



Say of me,

When I am gone

“She loved little kittens

and other soft things ...



Candlelight, cast warm shadows,

Raindrops, tiptoeing over a leaf in a quiet summer rain.”



Say of me

When I am gone,

“She loved small children

and other sweet things ...

Honeysuckle, squeezed fresh from the bloom.

The smell of red clover wet with the morning dew.”



Say of me

When I am gone

“She loved old people

and other fragile things ...

Touch-me-nots and butterflies

Little glass angels with tinsel halos and crooked things.”



Say of me

When I am gone

“She loved bright rainbows and other wondrous things ...

A brilliant sunset, fiery red,

A canyon carved in stone.”



Say of me

When I am gone,

“She loved the sound of silence

and other simple things ...

A mound of marigolds,

A sip of lemonade.



Say of me

When I am gone,

“She’s loving still somewhere,

for she has passed through time and space

to realms of higher things ...

Past morning glories climbing high.

Beyond the sunsets far.

Where soft things never turn to steel

and sweet things don’t turn sour.

Where fragile things are fragile still

And wondrous things still are.

A place where simple things surround her

like clouds around a star.”

— Bev Davis,

December 2007

Beginning next Saturday and continuing for the next several weeks, The Register-Herald will run a selection of past Inside Out columns by our late Senior Editor Bev Davis.

The overwhelming popularity of her column and the dozens of phone calls we received this week have told us that many readers want to continue to enjoy her inspirational thoughts.

The tributes you see here today are from some of the co-workers who worked with her the longest and knew her best, as well as a newcomer just learning to appreciate what Bev was all about.

Bev was the nicest, kindest, gentlest, most compassionate person that I’ve ever known. She was a true professional in every aspect of her life. She was dedicated to her job, co-workers and friends, but more importantly, she was dedicated to God!

I will greatly miss all our conversations we shared together the first thing in the morning and on assignments. I admired the fact that she was able to counsel me through my divorce and problems I’ve faced with raising my children. She had the ability to do this even without having faced my experiences and it was because of her knowledge and faith in God. She quoted me Scriptures, found me reading materials, led me to other people who could help and always followed up on my progress.

She helped me with my animals. When one of them was sick or hurt, I would go to her with questions and she always took the time to give me some advice. 

I’ve had the pleasure of working with Bev for the last 26 years and we shared over 4,000 assignments together in that time frame. She made my job easier by taking the time to give me the proper information, meeting deadlines and working in advance.

Bev was like a machine. I do believe she could beat the machine and John Henry. It was her faith in God that gave her the ability and strength to achieve her many accomplishments.

I personally don’t know any other 61-year-old woman who could do what she did. Amazing! Can you believe she cut an acre of grass on her property with a push lawn mower? Shoveled tons and tons of snow off her driveway, always attending church and prayer meetings, handling two magazines, our LifeStyles section, weekly column and other responsibilities for the newspaper. I can go on and on. All I can say again is AMAZING!

I will always treasure Bev Davis. Her death is a tremendous loss to me and our newsroom. I’ll miss our assignments together, conversations, lunches, watching her play piano in church and all her spiritual advice.

It was time for Bev to move on. She left her mark on earth and now God has called her home.

Rick Barbero is chief photographer for Beckley Newspapers.





The news I got from my boss on Sunday at 2:49 p.m. was not anything I anticipated. “Bev Davis is dead.” What? Repeating didn’t make it any different from what I heard the first time. I just wanted to be wrong.

My heart is heavy; my eyes are swollen. Yes, she was a very dear friend.

The circulation of The Register-Herald is approximately 26,000. Add the Internet which covers states unending. All readers of The Register-Herald. Then add the years Bev worked in the paper business. That brings us to the fact that there are so many people in different walks of life who encountered her.

Her cubicle is lined with achievements and awards she received. One of her most recent accomplishments was “West Virginia South” magazine. I remember as she scattered in a hurry holding the issue up, “my first,” she was ecstatic.

She worked hard at her profession. She has done so many stories throughout the years and touched so many lives; she helped those in need; gave advice when needed; looked up things others needed; directed them in the paths to better help someone or themselves; went out of her way to give them words of encouragement. Her religious columns alone on Saturday brought many to buy The Register-Herald for that reason alone.

I know all this because I worked beside her for more than 23 years; and I was one of those people she helped — not just once but almost on a daily basis.

It was nothing to feel her touch my arm and turn around to a hug, just because she felt I needed it. And I always did.

Every Christmas she never forgot me or my three children.

It was nothing for us to bat back and forth on whose birthday is coming up and what did we forget.

I’d always shout at her when her nose was in the computer working. ”Bev, you’re not listening to me!” She’d say back, “Well, Pam I’m trying real hard to do just that.”

Back and forth we’d go and sometimes throw in another co-worker, Judy Karbonit, just to add flavor to it.

There are many things I will miss about her, so many. But the one thing I always looked forward to was her being “my prayer warrior.” I’d holler at her “Bev, I’ve got something for you to pray about.” She was always Johnny-on-the-spot. With my three kids, there was always something to pray about, we would joke.

Her concern, demeanor, her soft-spoken way was unmatched. And yes, her truthfulness to me, I respected most. We developed that respect over the years. The last five, we became very close.

She was like part of my family, I shared things with her that I didn’t with others. Bev would listen, always. She would rejoice with me on prayers answered. She would cry with me.

We could always compare being alone, the trials of trying to keep up a home. We could compare our age.

And yes, she had no children. But my children became part of her family and she would give me advice and she would help in whatever the situation was. Bev had a big, big heart.

One of my greatest gifts from her was in 2007. Out of the blue, she gave me a Bible. Little did she know just what that Bible meant to me. I did explain to her that I had wanted one so bad. I had one when I was married, but it belonged to my husband. So I didn’t have one of my own. You’d thought she gave me the world. And she did.

This is a woman who paid $100, and I paid the other $100, in order for me to get a Yorkie she wanted me to have.

This woman frantically called me and found me at my dad’s side in the hospital when the news of the UBB came across. She was afraid my son was one of them.

She was a woman who went out of her way to get her friend Mary to help me purchase a car for my daughter which she desperately needed.

She helped my other daughter who worked with us here. She loved my kids, and it was genuine. She gave my son work when he was out, just cutting her grass.

Oh my! Did she have a yard that she kept up (by herself)! She loved her homeplace; it meant something to her. We hauled a rabbit pen my dad had made to her place.

She was there to comfort me when my mother died in 2008, when my father died earlier this year. She said we had something in common. Both our dads had missing fingers, and we both admired our dads.

Mary reminded me “rejoice,” she doesn’t have to cut that grass any more, she doesn’t have to meet a deadline. Then another friend at work said, “She met the most important deadline.”

Yes, yes she did.

My family and I are going to miss her so much. I’m going miss hearing her laugh, the way she dressed, her jewelry that always matched. She was a beautiful woman.

Yes, she was a good friend. In our line of work, people come and go. Some become friends, some we cherish. She was both to me.

Pam Payne is the obituary clerk/typist for Beckley Newspapers.

Last Sunday was an extremely hard day for me. Not only were my family and I dealing with my mother being in the emergency room, I was hoping that anytime they would bring my co-worker and friend to the emergency room, treat her and send her home.

But this was not the case. Bev had died at her old homeplace, a place she treasured that was filled with lasting memories of her parents and her grandmother.

Bev and I were classmates through grade school and high school and after graduation, she went off to a Christian college and I headed for  Washington, D.C. When time permitted through the years, we either chatted or visited when we were back home for a visit.

When Bev approached me in 1984 about a job at Beckley Newspapers, I never thought she would give up her position as a teacher because of her love for the children she taught.

But that’s what she did. After interviewing with the managing editor, she left her career in teaching and embarked on another in journalism which she dearly loved, all the time believing she had found her niche in life.

Extremely dedicated to her job, Bev moved right into her position as assistant lifestyles editor and, within a matter of months, as lifestyles editor. Her love for journalism continued throughout her life.

From that time on she never slowed down, always pounding the streets in search of an award-winning human interest story or a hard news story, winning numerous awards throughout her career.

Not only did she work hard for the newspaper, she was always editing manuscripts for others.

A walking encyclopedia, she knew more about the medical field than most and that’s why she enjoyed the task as editor of the newspaper’s “Thrive” magazine. In her latest endeavor as editor of West Virginia South, Bev told me many times she was ‘‘totally dedicated’’ to making this magazine the best ever.

A devout Christian, Bev was always concerned about others and, of course, her pet cats and, in later years, her bunnies.

No matter what story she did, whether hard news or a feature about someone with an incurable disease, a human interest story or a food feature, she always came away from the interview with a new prospective on life.

As the Rev. Paul Blizard, pastor at Memorial Baptist Church in Beckley, related to me and a co-worker shortly after finding out about her untimely death, ‘‘We know where you are,’’ all the time pointing toward heaven.

Bev, the mornings and days will never be the same here.

Judy Karbonit is special sections editor for Beckley Newspapers.





Let him that is taught in the word communicate unto him that teacheth in all good things. — Galatians 6:6

We are in the world of staying connected. From our purses, to our pockets and in our ears. We have devices that help us keep in touch; not only with our friends, but the whole world.

One method of communication stands out. It is better than sliced bread and the invention of Al Gore’s Internet — e-mail.

This daily affirmation was taken a step further in Jim Carey’s movie “Bruce Almighty.” As God, he received prayer requests via e-mail. After reading a few, he finally decided to reply yes to them all. Later on, there were miracles granted and lottery winners around the world. What if we could send an e-mail  to heaven?

If I could send an e-mail to heaven, I would first e-mail my grandfather (Papaw). I would tell him how proud of me he would be and how I am using my much-inherited Yankee ingenuity. I would let him know where I am in life and that he would’ve loved my husband as much as I do.

I would e-mail my great-grandmother (Mamaw Jo). I would tell her that I forgive her for being mean to me during her onset of Alzheimer’s. I would tell her that I miss her famous lasagna, which I cannot make the same. I would tell her that I miss sneaking into her cookie jar and that I didn’t appreciate her changing the cookies from Keebler Pinwheels to Pecan Sandies.

I would go on and e-mail other family members and tell them sorry that I was too young to get to know them.

Last but not least, I would e-mail God. I would like to say I would ask for selfish things: fulfilling the voids in my life and grant all my prayers. I cannot.

I would first and foremost say thanks. Thanks for loving me and letting me love. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to have certain people in my life, especially my newfound friend, Bev Davis.

We didn’t get much of a chance to chit-chat. She would work during the day and I in the evenings. If I were lucky, I would come in early and catch up face-to-face. Other times, we just had an exchange of words by e-mail.

She would tell me of her day and her plans for the week. I would reply with the same.

Some days she was a little stressed and told me to hangeth in there. I would candidly reply back “I willeth.”

We would write about what our weekends were like and just shoot the breeze. But since her untimely death, I no longer have that opportunity and had revisited our conversations. She would say hi and I would, too. I would invite her to lunch, but she had family obligations. I would say hi and she would reply that we will catch up later ... but later never came.

I checked our past messages. I had to make sure that each one sent had a reply. Thankfully they did, but unfortunately, the messages stopped.

I wish I could e-mail her in heaven and tell her thanks for rubbing off on me. I would tell her that she is truly missed and loved.

If I could only send an e-mail to heaven ...

April Rigsby is a member of Beckley Newspapers’ copy desk staff.