Lewis Taulby Francis

November 13, 1947 – January 11, 2021

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When asked how he was doing, Lewis “Taulby” Francis would smile and answer that he was “blessed” and “getting better and better every day,” even though rheumatoid arthritis and other health conditions racked his body with pain daily. On January 11, 2021, his pain ended when he got his ticket out of this earthly life, departing from his home in Queen Creek, AZ. Lewis was 73 years old the day he died, but he would have insisted that he had just turned 29 in November.

Lewis was born in 1947 to the late Twyman Francis and Elzie (Williamson) Francis in Williamson, WV. He was the youngest of seven children (six living). Lewis was raised on a farm in Aflex, Kentucky. Being the baby of the family, Lewis learned how to manipulate his mama from a young age, much to the annoyance of his older siblings. Naturally his two older brothers felt it their duty to offset their mama’s adoration with plenty of punches and mean pranks. His three older sisters doted on Lewis like he was a baby doll. His daddy, on the other hand, was much too stoic to be cajoled by cuteness.

Lewis was ambitious and restless; he couldn’t stay in slow-paced Appalachia. Besides, young Lewis had probably infuriated half the townspeople with his mischief. Once, near Halloween, he and his friend tied a rope around a mannequin neck, dropping it from a bridge and repeatedly startling unsuspecting drivers. Another time he and fellow football teammates picked up their coach’s Volkswagen Beetle, turned it 90 degrees, and wedged it between two adjacent walls. Lewis graduated from Belfry High School in 1965 at the age of 17. That June he enlisted in the Air Force. While serving his country during the Vietnam War, Lewis taught parachuting and survival skills at their base in Okinawa, Japan. In 1969 he received an honorable discharge. After the Air Force, Lewis moved to Chicago, IL. When he wasn’t partying in the city he was studying at a local college and working the night shift as a security guard. He met and married his ex-wife, Ersa (Alden) Briggs. They started a family and moved to Pikeville, KY, where they resided for nearly a decade. The family of five uprooted a couple times, and eventually, in 1986, settled in Mesa, AZ. Lewis remained in the East Valley of Arizona for the next 35 years.

Lewis carried a strong work ethic with him throughout his entire life. As a young adult Lewis worked in a variety of professions, including welding, truck driving, and coal mining. In the 1980s Lewis put his charisma and knack for exaggerating to good use as a used car salesman. He could disarm even the most disgruntled customer with his quick wit and easy-going demeanor. Within a few years he was a car sales manager. Eventually Lewis grew tired of the car grind. He started his own independent sales office, providing Arizona merchants with credit card processing and ATMs. No matter what his profession, Lewis gave 110%.

When Lewis wasn’t working he was usually engaged in one of three activities: fastidiously cleaning the house, snoozing loudly on his recliner while pretending to watch TV (“I’m resting my eyes.”), or playing guitar. Sometimes after dinner he’d strum classics like, “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain.” If he was feeling lively he’d stand up and imitate Elvis Presley, gyrating his hips and crooning, “Hound Dog,” making his young children squeal with laughter. He later used this talent to play guitar and bass guitar with the praise band at Spirit of Joy Lutheran Church, where he was a devoted member the last two decades of his life.

Lewis stayed active to offset binge watching Cold Case Files. As a young father he and his wife would often take their three oldest children on family walks after dinner. When his children were grown, he would walk, hike, or rollerblade with one of his children. This afforded them time to catch up, because phone calls with Lewis, though frequent, were usually two-minute briefings rather than deep conversations. Lewis even proudly skydived with his oldest son, Rob, and late son-in-law, Cody, just a few years before he died. He occasionally went to shooting ranges. Lewis loved hunting, too. Bargain hunting, that is. While he could never kill Bambi, he took pleasure in capturing deeply discounted items that others would ignore. (“I saved!”) Lewis normally took great pride in his appearance, but you’d better believe he’d wear a gaudy, rainbow-colored windbreaker if he purchased it for $3 instead of $30. His wife, Cheryl, made sure these garish garments were re-homed to Goodwill.

At times Lewis’s vanity manifested in some more expensive, regrettable purchases. In the early 2000s Lewis decided to get a toupee. He had been partially bald for decades, and he longed for a full head of hair. Unfortunately his ill-fitted toupee never looked natural with his high forehead. His fellow car salesmen razzed him daily, nicknaming his coif the “Louie-Hue” after the famous 1980s talk show host, Phil Donahue. Lewis gave up wearing the toupee in earnest, but that didn’t stop him busting it out for laughs during family gatherings.

Waiting to greet Lewis in the next life are his parents, all six of his siblings (T. J. Harold Francis, Rosa Thornton, Glenna Niemann, Darrell Francis, Bonnie Sue Hinkle, and Lonnie Francis) and several other next of kin who preceded him in death. He leaves behind many family members who already miss his corny punch lines and platitudes, especially his wife of 21 years, Cheryl (Luckey) Francis; his five children, Rob Francis (Stella Trevizo Francis), Loisann Francis Openshaw (Wes Openshaw), Patrick Francis (Kristen Kristensen), Morgan Ward, and McKinley Francis-Anderson (Katie Carnell); nine grandchildren (Jordan Ochoa; Mariah, Mikayla, and Vanessa Francis; Evie and Caleb Openshaw; Knut Kristensen; Lynlee Ward and Haidyn Ward); and two great-grandchildren (Brielle and Layla Lopez). Lewis cherished his family. Not long before he died, Dad told me (Loisann) that he wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was afraid of missing out on more grandchildren.

Lewis and his family often joked that he was a cat with nine lives because he had cheated death so often. He once got in car accident in which the vehicle rolled onto him, pinning his pelvis and resulting in a lifetime need for shoe lifts to correct his crooked stance. In 2005, it seemed like he would surely die when his appendix ruptured and caused sepsis. Most notably was the time Lewis got third-degree burns in a welding accident. He was hospitalized for several months. The burns left conspicuous, band-like scars around his wrists. When strangers asked why his arms were scarred he would grin and kid that he was in a cult. While he may have stubbornly defeated the grim reaper for seven decades, the last three years of life were full of crippling agony and countess close calls. (Lewis liked to tease the staff at Mercy Gilbert Hospital that he had a permanent room there.) He is finally free from his suffering.

At the time of writing this obituary (January 14, 2021), the family plans to have a private service for Lewis on January 30, 2021. In the future there will be an official interment and a memorial service. Due to Covid-19 concerns those services have been delayed until a time when it’s safe to host large gatherings. Donations and flowers can be postponed until that time. Lewis wanted his friends and family to celebrate his life, not mourn it. So friends, get busy crafting your best tall tales about him. Be sure your Lewis story makes him look good, or at least brings lots of laughter and joy to the crowd, just as he would have done if he were still here today.