A life well lived
I lost a very good friend this week.
He's been my friend for nearly forty years, but I rarely saw him more than once a year for the past thirty years.
Let me explain, but I'll do so in keeping with my normal policy of not naming names.
I grew up in a small town outside of Lexington, Kentucky and my first full-time job after college was working for the local radio station. I friend whom I have known since childhood helped me obtain my initial part-time position there, and it morphed into something more a couple of months after graduating.
We had the opportunity to broadcast a local high school sporting event and my friend, who also worked at the station at the time, suggested I go to see a man whom he was confident would support our broadcast by purchasing advertising (I worked on the air in the mornings and sold advertising to augment my income, which was pretty sweet for a 22 year old).
I went to see this man, and learned a number of things about him right away:
He was the brother of my childhood doctor.
He was the father of two girls who were both gifted high school athletes.
His wife had been the assistant librarian at my high school during my last two years there.
He thought the world of my friend, the fellow who got me into radio.
And he became my friend right then and there.
He was a stalwart supporter of any sports programming that we were able to develop for the radio station and at some point my longtime friend called to say that he had been invited to play golf with this man, and he encouraged my friend to bring me along.
I saw this older man on the golf course at least once a year every year from that point forward.
Later, when my wife and I were looking for new insurance coverage to reduce the price of our newly-driving-daughter being added to the policy, he became our insurance man (he had been in the personal lines end of property and casualty insurance for a long time) and remained so until he retired and sold his practice.
We continued playing golf with him annually. It was an outing that eventually included another of my contemporaries, and we all so looked forward to spending that day with our friend each summer.
He was a very skilled golfer, by the way, but he was willing to put up with a group of occasional players each year because he, too, looked forward to the round we played. For a long time he would quietly pay our greens fees in advance, then we stopped him from doing so, but we could not keep him from buying lunch.
He was kind, smart, funny, generous, a devoted family man and a wonderful person.
My current job involves travel so I am hoping that the funeral arrangements will be such that I will be able to attend. At our round a couple of years ago his wife met us briefly at the restaurant where we had lunch, and my friends and I managed to express to her how much this man has meant to us. But I think she already knew.
My childhood friend called me on Monday evening, as he had just found out about our friend being ill. He had been told that our friend had suffered a massive stroke in Florida, where he and his wife own a condominium. He later learned that our friend suffered an aneurism while playing golf and was apparently not awake thereafter. Given his long relationship with golf, I think that this was entirely fitting.
I am a better man for having known this man, and I already miss him dearly.
He's been my friend for nearly forty years, but I rarely saw him more than once a year for the past thirty years.
Let me explain, but I'll do so in keeping with my normal policy of not naming names.
I grew up in a small town outside of Lexington, Kentucky and my first full-time job after college was working for the local radio station. I friend whom I have known since childhood helped me obtain my initial part-time position there, and it morphed into something more a couple of months after graduating.
We had the opportunity to broadcast a local high school sporting event and my friend, who also worked at the station at the time, suggested I go to see a man whom he was confident would support our broadcast by purchasing advertising (I worked on the air in the mornings and sold advertising to augment my income, which was pretty sweet for a 22 year old).
I went to see this man, and learned a number of things about him right away:
He was the brother of my childhood doctor.
He was the father of two girls who were both gifted high school athletes.
His wife had been the assistant librarian at my high school during my last two years there.
He thought the world of my friend, the fellow who got me into radio.
And he became my friend right then and there.
He was a stalwart supporter of any sports programming that we were able to develop for the radio station and at some point my longtime friend called to say that he had been invited to play golf with this man, and he encouraged my friend to bring me along.
I saw this older man on the golf course at least once a year every year from that point forward.
Later, when my wife and I were looking for new insurance coverage to reduce the price of our newly-driving-daughter being added to the policy, he became our insurance man (he had been in the personal lines end of property and casualty insurance for a long time) and remained so until he retired and sold his practice.
We continued playing golf with him annually. It was an outing that eventually included another of my contemporaries, and we all so looked forward to spending that day with our friend each summer.
He was a very skilled golfer, by the way, but he was willing to put up with a group of occasional players each year because he, too, looked forward to the round we played. For a long time he would quietly pay our greens fees in advance, then we stopped him from doing so, but we could not keep him from buying lunch.
He was kind, smart, funny, generous, a devoted family man and a wonderful person.
My current job involves travel so I am hoping that the funeral arrangements will be such that I will be able to attend. At our round a couple of years ago his wife met us briefly at the restaurant where we had lunch, and my friends and I managed to express to her how much this man has meant to us. But I think she already knew.
My childhood friend called me on Monday evening, as he had just found out about our friend being ill. He had been told that our friend had suffered a massive stroke in Florida, where he and his wife own a condominium. He later learned that our friend suffered an aneurism while playing golf and was apparently not awake thereafter. Given his long relationship with golf, I think that this was entirely fitting.
I am a better man for having known this man, and I already miss him dearly.
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