Running buddies and old friends ...

I’ve told about the decision my neighbor and I made once to run a marathon. We made the decision in the fall of 1979 and were training in serious by the end of the year. We had picked up some compadres since then. One was the late John Woodruff, who lived six or seven blocks from us. Another was the late Robert Johnston who lived, for a while, across Broadway. The others are still living as far as I know, and probably wouldn’t want their association with me made public.

John Woodruff figured largely into this marathon thing. He wasn’t a fast runner, so when we ran in a pack (yeah, kind of like a wolf pack), the others would sometimes take off at a faster pace and leave the two of us. I guess the others felt that as long as I was with John, that qualified as adult supervision.

John was a journalist. He worked for the Arkansas Gazette, the “oldest newspaper west of the Mississippi.” He covered North Little Rock, the politics and all. This was a plum assignment back then for the city was known for its “rip-roaring” approach to life, as exemplified by its legendary mayor Casey Layman. He was, in fact, too colorful to write about in a family-oriented blog. Let’s just leave it at that.

Anyway, John and I put in some miles together and shared an unforgettable experience I’ll cover later. For now, John was a glorious companion. He talked slowly, choosing his words with care, as you might expect from one who had spent years writing sentences that would be dissected and attacked from the nastiest of editors to the ACLU. He had this habit of turning his head slowly and looking at you when he wanted to say something important. And John didn't waste much time on unimportant things.

One of the most touching stories he told, as we were on a long run together, involved journalism as they practiced it in the old days. He told me how he would return from a City Council meeting, and pound out a piece in time for the next day's paper. Having finished his work day, he would sit in the press room with other reporters and relax. Then he told how, after some time had passed, the old Gazette Building would start to rumble and shake.

It was the presses starting up and announcing that the First Amendment was secure for another day.

John died of cancer a few years ago. Maybe it's good that he didn’t live to see a day when that precious piece of our Constitution is in such danger. I miss the comfort that people like John Woodruff bring to this world.

You don't meet many like
John in this short life.