Saying good-bye, guest blogger Richard Johnson

Retirement is nice a lot of the time, but sometimes it comes up to slap you in the face. When I first retired, I went back to the department (Georgia Southern Communication Arts) frequently, went to plays, visited with old friends, etc. As time went on and the body begins to flag, these visits become less frequent, and some times not at all. It has reached the stage where we only attend a movie once or twice a month, we sit at home, go to the doctors (note the plural), go to church, go to water aerobics, play with the dogs etc. Friends who were once very close evaporate into occasional glances.

Then one day you pick up the paper, glance at the obituaries (in the late seventies, reading the obituaries is an involuntary constant) and you see that a friend with whom you worked closely for almost twenty years, who is fifteen years your junior, has passed away and the funeral is at two o'clock this afternoon. It is hard to explain the reaction. One has a full day scheduled, (for a change) and suddenly getting to the funeral home on time becomes crucial and as an old coot, I get to the wrong funeral home on time, break a few traffic laws reversing directions and finally reaching the place in time to sit in the foyer, watching the funeral through a big window and listening to the sermon and quietly leaving at the end. So long, Kent, I have only seen you a dozen times in the fifteen or sixteen years since you took over my office when I retired, but suddenly there is a hole, and I will miss you. Rest well my friend.