My long-time friend Bobby Woody passed away this morning at 2am.
My Treo rang and I knew there was bad news. I had a unique ring-tone for Bobby and haven’t heard that ring in months since he was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I played a gig last night with Reagan and woke up and listened to the message. It was Charlotte and she delivered the news with strength and resolve. “Bobby passed away peacefully this morning at 2am and I wanted you to know.”
I’ve had some time to get used to this, but I honestly didn’t think it would set in so fast. Steve and I had talked about going to see Bob in early May and we made it down last week, but it was a bit too late to share a beer and a smile with our friend.
It’s hard to go forward on a day like this minding your own concerns and worries about this or that. Another friend has passed away and I can’t help but do as Steve states (see below) and take time to try and remember every single experience we could.
I met Bobby in Central High School back in the late seventies. They called him “Pecker” and we were both part of the high school band that liked to drink beer, smoke cigarettes, party together and talk about the meaning life stirring up the most fun we could have.
We worked together at a fast-food restaurant, dated the same women and more importantly, we shared our love of music and the curiosities of life. Bobby had a humble genius quiet enough to listen to your ideas, but educated and studious enough to know the difference between fact or fiction.
When we were in college, he’s the one who could have been the doctor, but he didn’t like the responsibility. Instead he ended up in Atlanta working at Emory Hospital in the cardiac care ER where he saved lives and held beating hearts in the palm of his hands.
Bobby was one of those friends I’ll remember as unwavering. From the first time I met him to the last moment I shook his hand, he was a constant and unchanged friend and those number very few in life as we all sail with our own wind and currents.
I remember a real mischievous side to Bobby too. He loved to play gags and he had a fascination with things that make most people fearful. I recall early on a blonde python hanging from his curtains in his small apartment in Atlanta and he always had a tarantula, scorpion or other intriguing and dangerous creature to make visitors a little uneasy.
The last night we saw Bobby at Hospice Atlanta, he woke up long enough to recognize me and Steve Thompson and he tried to get up into the hallway, despite the frantic recovery effort from parents and hospice personnel, but he was that way and it’s one of the great memories about my friend.
My friend Steve and I both recall many, many episodes about Bobby over the last few days and some of the include;
The time we had a gun pointed to our heads
– One night after work at a restaurant we both worked at (Captain D’s on Stone Drive in Kingsport), me, Bobby, Mark Dixon and Steve Thompson pulled onto a side road in Colonial Heights to drink a few beers. We were just out of high school and it was one of those summer nights when it felt great to be out of the house, listening to music and drinking a few beers.
All of a sudden, at the end of the dirt road, a flash of headlights came bouncing toward us and the motor of the Sullivan County deputy revved up as we bolted for the car and tried to get away. We didn’t know it was the police at the time, but nevertheless, we were spooked. Mark had an old Pontiac Lemans and we couldn’t get it any traction and before we knew it, there was a older officer with a 357 pointed at Mark’s head at the side of the window.
Within seconds, we were all spread-eagle outside the car and evidently, there was a burglary at the Pic Kwik and this guy thought we were the perps. We told him what we were doing honestly (and scared to death – we had way more beer than we admitted) and he told us to go home. Which we did…quickly with our tails between our legs.
Bill Canny’s House
I remember another time Bobby and I decided that we would play a prank on Bill Canny. Somewhere on the way home, we grabbed a blinking highway sign and placed it in our band director’s driveway late one morning. I always wondered what he thought that morning?
Dorm room at Frank Clement Hall
Did you ever know any smart people who could keep up with the most wreckless party animals, but still pull out great grades and continually rack up a good grade point average?
I recall so many parties in Frank Clement Hall at ETSU with Bobby, Robert Brown, Mitch Moats, Gary “Radford” (Can’t remember his last name). We would sit Bob’s floor with various contraband and jump on any party wagon that came our way. For me, it was tougher, because I think I partied my way to academic probation, but Bobby, he seemed to have no problem.
The WQUT Music Machine
In the early eighties, I had a job at WQUT as a radio announcer. My name was Barry Roberts and occasionally, I’d got out on a remote in the big lumbering WQUT Music Machine.
The Music Machine was Winebago with bright yellow letters on the side and I pulled up into Bobby’s driveway one day and grabbed him and Bubba Spence. We had a great time driving that rig around Bristol, parking in the limelight. We were at Bar-Wars promotion that night and we had a good time being kids.
Music, Music, Music
– Bobby and I shared a love for new music. He turned me on to the Chili Peppers long before the were cool and we always enjoyed sharing new punk bands and other groups on the rise. He played drums himself and unfortunately, we never got to jam much, but over the years, we would attend several rock concerts together, including Yes, The Producers at The Cotton Club, Jet, The Living End and The The Vines.
My college room-mate, Paul Sikorsky lived in Atlanta too and Bobby and Paul would call me outside a venue everytime they were there to see a show. It kept our friendship alive for many years.
It’s funny now that I think about it. Me and Bobby crossed paths several times when it came to girlfriends. I remember him flirting with Fran Jones, Christa Arnold, Kelly Paulfrey, Lynne Canny and Alice Urquhart. I think he even looked at my first wife with a bit of adoration, but he loved the ladies. He always had lots of stories about Atlanta, until he met his wife Donna.
Donna is from the epicenter of New York. She’s from a big Italian family and they met while working somewhere in healthcare. Together they had two boys, Michael and David and dedicated himself to these guys for the remainder of his life.
Bobby would bring them to my house and we would play video games together and it was a treat to see them, but I always appreciated his participation with his sons even after he and Donna later divorced. They were truly his compass and he turned down lots of concerts for Pinewood Derbies or Scout Days for the kids and he loved to share pictures too of what was going on.
The age in which we live offers us the luxury of preserving lots of media about each other and the lives we live. From audio, photos and video, we can easily build a collection of great moments and that’s helpful for me because things don’t seem as clear as they used to the older you get.
I was looking over all my photos of Bobby today and turned up a bunch, including our great trip to The Virginia Creeper Trail a few years ago. He was in good health that day and we shared a bright and colorful fall afternoon.
I’ll never forget how sick we got laughing at each other in Whitetop Mountain when I flipped over the handlebars. You had to be there, but a 40 year old man flopping end-over-end is anything but graceful!
There are photos of me, Paul and Steve from a weekend on Labor Day and several photos taken on top of Stone Mountain. This was a favorite spot for my friend and we may have an opportunity to meet one of his wishes as there are plans to scatter his ashes on top of this rock.
There’s a record of phone calls. My Treo was an interesting adventure today too as I reviewed all of our telephone calls over the past two years and the email I’ve received will become a part of my own collection of shared moments.
Bobby is survived by his parents, Robert and Charlotte Woody who live in Johnson City. His sister Robin from Nashville and Donna, Michael and David who live in Atlanta. In addition there are lots of friends who will always remember his spirit.
Most important – I think the last several days since my last visit with Bobby and watching the grief his family has absorbed over the past several months has me taking my time to appreciate things more. It’s a goal for me to reconsider all the things I say and do and attempt to practice more patience and understanding with those whom I long to call friends.
We lit a candle for Bobby tonight and as the day closes, I bid my friend farewell. Bobby was not a religious person. We both would exchange many ideas about this over the years, but I know he had resolved early on that perhaps he wouldn’t live very long. Most everyone that knew him can recant his premonitions on this subject, but I’m absolutely certain that he planned everything accordingly his last few months and only regret we didn’t have more time to spend together. His love of nature and the mechanics of the universe were open enough I’m confident he was content with joining that from which he came and I will always be touched by his character.
No death is good for anyone, but in a way, this ultimate destination is what makes us poetic. We touch each other for short times, but even in a moment, we may have enough to change the world.
My friend Steve Thompson mailed Bobby an email to Bobby despite his passing and we will both miss our friend and our hearts go out to his family and those that shared any other times with Bobby Woody.
From: Sweevie62@wmconnect.com
Date: May 21, 2006 1:01:32 PM EDT
To: woodmanatl@comcast.net
Subject: I Love ya manI went to the wedding of Gretchen’s niece Saturday. You were on my mind. It’s the first wedding I’ve been to since Debbie died. You can imagine how uncomfortable I became as the pianist played songs that Dave Cate played at my wedding. Now I guess I understand why I opposed attending it. I saw Jim Lyons and of course the father of the bride was Coach Fink from Holston. After the wedding and during the long reception I thought about calling. I know first hand about the numbing exhaustion your parents and care givers are feeling. I heard that after Dave and I left Saturday you asked about us and didn’t remember we’d been there but I know in my heart you were aware during our visit. I’ll never forget the smirk that appeared on your face after we told you we had to go followed by your daring attempt to walk the halls. Last night around 11:30 I was at Gretchen’s listening to Breakfast in America by Supertramp and the song Is It Mine Lord played. I set the repeat and played it over and over. I allowed myself to witness the images and memories of you stream through my thoughts. As my eyes teared up I closed them (a technique my personal grief has taught me). I thought about calling again but didn’t. As I thought about Bubba’s last email I began weeping. Then Gretchen started as well. About 12:30 I dozed off and spilled the cold gin on my leg so I retired. When my phone rang this morning my first thought was of you. When I saw it was Dave calling before 8:00A.M….He’s left a message… I held the phone waiting for the courage to hear his voice mail. The familiar numbness that I hate yet embrace greets me as I learn of your passing. I’ve heard one is lucky to have a single true friend. I am very blessed to have had a few. I lost my best friend when Debbie left and now I’ve lost you. I know I ramble a lot but I seriously don’t know what to say. Perhaps bye for now dear friend.
Cheers
SteveE
