The last couple of days have been a heck of a ride. In some ways, I guess things started with the passing of Shelley Fabares, who was a small part of my childhood many moons ago. Then things got real.
Monday brought the news that Matt (Matthew) Bair had passed. If you don’t live in Indy, you probably don’t know the name. Matt had been in radio, one way or another, for years. For the last eight years, he’s been the voice of the best traffic coverage in the city. So much so that I’ve actually recommended people I knew were coming in or through from out of town follow him on X and tune in to WIBC for his coverage.
Years back, I drove a lot and began sending or calling in tips and updates to him. First time I did, he checked to be sure I was doing so safely, as while he appreciated, he also told me he didn’t want to end up having to report about me being in an accident. After that, sent in tips and did a brief bit of chatting. Then the lightning hit and for a while there I wasn’t able to do a lot, which led to listening to WIBC talk radio most of the day. Not saying he made listening to the various shows bear-able; but, it did make me appreciate his delivery, humor, and honest concern all the more. Add in the fact that he would do all he could to help good charities, and that he talked honestly about his own struggles with addiction and encouraged others fighting that fight, and you had something truly special.
There were two period after the lightning strike where I didn’t drive much, and as a result I wasn’t sending in tips. One day, while being driven to a doctor’s appointment, we hit a major traffic snarl and I sent it in. He responded immediately and he got the issue out online and on the air asap. He closed out with me with what would be a throw-away line for many, but was true and sincere from him: “Glad to have you back Wolf!” That was a boost I needed more than I realized at the time. Then again, that was Matt. He truly did make a difference in people’s lives. Godspeed Matt.
For all that I was born and raised in Macon, Georgia, I’ve made no secret that the best part of my childhood was spent in the mountains of NE Georgia. I had “adopted” grandparents and family there, the Bakers. Their small, technically three-room, home was typical of the area and I seem to recall that for years neither had traveled more than about twenty miles from the place of their birth. Their son was as an older brother to me, and they had far more impact on me that they realized.
I still remember watching, in black-and-white, Porter Wagoner on the TV when I was small. And I remember when this beautiful young lady named Dolly Parton joined his show — and the consternation when she left for Hollywood. I still see her in my mind as she looked then, probably always will. There is a lot I could say about her, her music, and the persona she adopted for the world. What I will say is this: for all that mountain people don’t talk, word got around fairly early that she looked after her own. Everyone talks about the big things, for she did huge things; but, she did a lot of small things that didn’t get talked about and she, and those she helped, wanted it that way. She would have recognized my adopted grandparents and their family right away, and been right at home sitting on the porch with them.
For all that her death has brought together all types and all places, I’ve seen a few posts questioning and worse. Allow me a moment to clap back: She had her Faith, and she truly lived it. She loved pretty much everyone, unconditionally. She gave of her time, her talent, and her resources and did so both openly and quietly. She didn’t preach and pontificate — she lived her faith and her obligations from the scriptures every day. She didn’t talk, she walked. She set an example from which we all can profit. Godspeed Dolly.
Yesterday evening I got an e-mail telling me my friend Bill had passed. Bill was one of those people who hit your life and make it brighter without even trying. He moved into the apartment next to mine the first time I was working for NASA, and quickly went from being a neighbor to one heck of a good friend. And a source of amusement, bemusement, and thought.
Bill was Chinese Canadian, who had a focus on American pop culture that was part appreciative, part satirical, and part amusement. I never did figure out if he was serious about some aspects, but he often made one think even as you were laughing at his take and antics. Every year he was my neighbor, he made a “pilgrimage” to Graceland in Memphis. He’d drive over the day after Thanksgiving, visit Graceland and Elvis’s grave, do some other touristy stuff, spend the night, and drive back the next day.
He had a sharp, sharp mind and could engage knowledgeably and intelligently on a wide variety of subjects. When we were neighbors, he was a welcome part of our Thanksgiving. My parents, who came over every year for the holiday, loved him, and he impressed and amused my Dad with his takes on football. We stayed in touch after we both moved away, and I was delighted when we both ended up in Vegas years later. I was there on business, and he was visiting with his new wife, Laara, and I was so glad to meet the person who completed him. The online “cards” he created and sent each year at Thanksgiving and Christmas helped make the holidays for me. Thanksgiving won’t be the same this year my friend. Godspeed Bill.
God’s mercy on their souls, and his mercy and comfort to all those they leave behind. Shine your light down upon those left behind, and guide them on thy path for them, now and in the days ahead.
