By Brenda Cannon Henley
Saturday afternoon, January 20, 2018, the Bolivar Peninsula, and the world in general, lost a really good man from our midst. I won’t attempt to recreate Edward G. Snyder III’s obituary in this column. That will come later. In fact, I had not known until I was going through some material for the obit that Ed was a III, and I certainly did not know his middle name. Ed has worn many hats over the years, but he seemed proudest of being a Texan, an honorarily discharged Marine, a patriot, lover of nature, a hunter, and a fisherman. I first came to know him as an outstanding nature photographer and writer. We talked shop from time to time and I admired his work and would often write to praise a particular photo he had shared.

He had edited magazines and sold the advertising for them. He helped to open and manage the Walter Umphrey Pavilion for over six years. Ed worked tirelessly to help keep Rollover Pass open, he sold parking passes and photographed happy anglers with their prize catches. He especially enjoyed getting fishing families together for a photo.

Ed had a keen intellect and was knowledgable in so many areas including history, geography, sports, and food. He loved his friends with a passion and his ever present camera captured many happy moments. With all these attributes, and he possessed more than I can recount, that is not why I loved Ed most. I loved and admired his big old Texas sized heart and his genuine concern for his fellow man and woman. (Believe me, Ed loved the ladies and his big bear hugs were one of his staples.

People have asked how I got to know Ed so well and how I came to spend the last weeks of his life with him in five different hospitalizations, surgeries, procedures, great pain, some intense planning, and hours of pure joy. It is really simple. He needed me.

When I needed a friend, Ed was there for me and could always get a smile or laugh. I lost my husband in August of 2014, and my precious grandson, whom I had reared, joined the US Navy and left for freezing cold boot camp in December of the same year. My house felt like a tomb. Ed wrote, messaged me, sent funny little cards, often with one of his prize photos, and convinced me Steven would be fine. In fact, he said the Navy would be good for him.

He encouraged Steven on every occasion and with every promotion. He kept a loose reign check on me and I love him for all those things. As I got to know Ed better, I realized he had been badly hurt, relationship issues with family tore at his heart, and that he had turned everything over to God. He could sense the pain of others because he had felt the pangs often in his own life.

We sometimes give best through our own pain and hurt. I am sure I will be writing more about my pal, Big Ed.

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at 409-781-8788, or
[email protected]

[1-29-2018]