A Man From Moscow, TN
Glen Sides, June 17, 1947 — April 16, 2024
When I was a boy in Bartlett, TN, my dad drove my family a few times a year to visit this small home down a forgettable gravel road far outside Memphis, where his aunt and uncle lived. The trip seemed endless, but for a suburban boy, this was my only taste of country living.
My family moved to Collierville, TN, when I was in high school, and I discovered that the small, country home resided in Moscow, TN, which was a town that meant little to me at the time. I went to Moscow, Russia, a few times, which was historic and adventurous, but that small town east of Memphis with the same name held nothing noteworthy for me, I thought.
My grandmother eventually began living with her sisters in that square home surrounded by farmland. They were genuine golden girls to me, and I adored laughing with them at their small table surrounded by family photos. An outing to the home was a tour through time. I would visit them in that house in Moscow once or twice a year during and after college.
My great-aunt, who owned the home, passed away years later, and the Moscow home was sold. My grandmother then moved closer to Memphis, and Moscow faded from my memory.
I moved back to Collierville with my wife and kids in 2021. When I began working at Central Church, I met a white-haired, burly man who smiled large and hugged even bigger. He introduced himself as Glen and promised to be my buddy. One day, he filled his truck with firewood and kindly brought it to my home.
He spoke to me with an excellent Southern twang and proudly announced that he lived in Moscow, Tennessee. I never knew Moscow produced one of the most remarkable men I would ever know. The town with the small home at the end of the gravel road that I visited with my family as a boy is the home of the great Glen Sides.
Glen spoke and loved me like I was his grandson. His touch was warm, and his smile was life-altering. Unfortunately, I only knew him for two years of my life. I had hoped for opportunities to bring my boys to his home in Moscow, TN, and supply them with countryside training. However, the Lord called him home.
Friendship means more than mates watching a ballgame together on a Saturday afternoon. A friend puts his timber-splitting hands on your shoulder in the hall at church and tenderly encourages you. Glen was that friend to me. He taught more about friendship than any book or article I perused. Thank you, Glen, for loving me well and teaching what truly matters. I miss you already, man from Moscow, TN.
