I feel old today. When I was a child in the mountains of East Tennessee and the voice came over the radio bringing the games, football and basketball, I tuned in. My dreams were being lived out down in Knoxville and this artist with words, painting a moving picture in my mind, brought forth the full emotions of victory and defeat. Always the radio was on as there were so few televised games then.
We were young and did not think of death back then. My Great Grandparents, Grandparents and Parents were alive, heroes always lived in the movies and I had not experienced the passing of friends. Now, sadly, my heroes are mostly gone, the elders of the family passed and the icons of my youth seem so distant. One by one their "graduation from life" brings the reality of my day approaching. I miss the carefree days of youth.
John Ward signed my program at the St Johns basketball game in the old Stokely Arena, signed my daughters' programs outside Neyland in the 90s and my grandson's jacket a few years ago. Always kind and caring for all the fans, John had a gift to share: an encouraging word.
Goodbye John Ward.
