Sometimes people become big in our minds and our memories without ever really even knowing it. We all have those kinds of people: the ones we might seldom talk to or spend time with, but who make us light up when we see them. The kind of people that come to our minds with stories and laughter in tow. They’re the kind of people we may only know a little, but we’re just really grateful for the privilege of that little bit. This week, I’ve paused many times to recall a man who had no idea he was big in my mind and memory. I was just a kid when he passed through my life. A “good kid,” he would say, but he would not have understood why he was so iconic to me. 

He definitely started out guilty by association in that regard. Don Woods was a friend and coworker of my dad’s, and my dad is 100% amazing. Throughout my childhood, I can recall my parents focusing most of their time and attention on my sister and I, as well as extended family. They had only a few close friends, most of whom were our neighbors, but the bulk of our time was spent with family. Maybe that’s why my dad’s ornery group of coworker-friends at Whiteside’s IGA West became so intriguing to me. “Woods” was one of them and his legacy, in my mind, began in that small town grocery store.

This brotherhood of men who had fun together while they worked is burned into my memory in ways they would probably never even realize. Their names come to mind easily, as do the pictures in my head. Now, granted, these images were formed in the mind of a child and have been carried on in my memory ever since, so their accuracy may be lacking, but they still make me smile. Whiteside’s IGA stirs happy memories in my mind. I picture the automatic doors (that opened outward – not the sliding kind of modern day) and to the left – against the wall was the office. I think the door was wooden, but the entire office wall may have been. That office was the homebase of the coolest people I could imagine in a workplace. Anytime we stopped by to say hi to dad, we were met with kindness and smiles from his entire work family. They were a playful and cheerful crew. I’m pretty sure their workplace dynamics and the level of fun they had is the stuff sitcoms are made of – based on the stories dad would tell of their crazy antics. Here’s the cast of characters: Fred Combs lives forever in my mind as a real-life version of “The Fonz” from Happy Days. I think it was partially his hair style, but mostly his black leather jacket that has him encapsulated this way in my mind. Next, there’s Randy Hessong. He was the tall thin man with gorgeous daughters and handsome sons who were a few years older than me at a point in life when a few years is a lifetime. They were, afterall, TEENS…to be admired from a distance by little kids like us. I think a couple of them were even part of the IGA crew. Next was a lady named Betty with dark curly hair. Poor Betty. Those trouble-making men must have been a handful to deal with. One of my favorites, Earl Floyd, a short round man, had a laugh and sense of humor that drew us to him. My sister and I ran into him at a mall in the Kansas City area when we were teenagers, and we had a great time catching up with him over lunch. It was that day that we learned Earl had been the one who played Santa and came TO OUR HOUSE when we were little, with a full Santa suit and jingle bells on his black boots. That was such a magical night in our childhood, and mom and dad had never told us who it was. I can still see the look on Earl’s face when he found out he let the cat out of the bag on the family secret. The next player in the cast of characters was Darrell Thompson. Not only did he share my dad’s name, he and his wife Rowena were friends of my parents and grandparents, and we stopped by their house fairly regularly with my Mamaw. They remained friends we often interacted with even after the grocery store days. 

And now – to the “character” who prompted this whole chain of memories: Don Woods. I think Don first entered our lives in the IGA glory days, but my memories of him extend well beyond that. Woods would occasionally drive through our neighborhood on his motorcycle or in his truck, and he would stop in front of our house to give dad a hard time. I LOVED when he did this because he was one of the select few who really knew dad’s true colors – his ornery, prankster side, and Woods could make dad laugh the way dad makes us laugh. I’ve noticed since then that ALL of the people who bring out the kid in my dad are people I hold in high regard. Don Woods didn’t ever disappoint. They would catch up on each others’ lives, exchange the usual jokes about who was rich and who wasn’t, and Woods would slip in a self-deprecating race jab or two before he would drive away with a huge smile and laughter – leaving us with the same. Don didn’t go away when the IGA job went away. He was just always around…somewhere. My parents looked forward to running into him in a store or along the road somewhere when he was out working, or during his occasional drive-by visits. I looked forward to it too. I was so excited in high school when Woods took a job working in my school. He was a custodian, and I got to see him fairly regularly. It felt like running into family during my school day. He was one of dad’s people, so he was one of my people.

One day, my junior year of high school, I had to stay after school to serve my first and only detention – for the severe infraction of not bringing a book to class. (I wasn’t allowed to return to my locker to get it.) Instead, I received detention. (I have memories about the person I received that from also, but they aren’t as fun to recall as the ones with Woods.) I walked in to see that, of all people, Don Woods was supervising detention that night. I was humiliated. This man I had admired for so many years was now seeing me “in trouble.” Ugh! I lowered my head and endured the brutal time until we were released. Don later told Dad that if I would have just looked up, he was trying to make eye contact with me to get my attention so he could let me leave. 

Don was hardworking and strong, talented and dependable. Just ask anyone who knew him. He was a tough guy – rough around the edges. He would end up apologizing, more often than not, for letting foul language or a crass remark slip out in our presence when we would visit with him. It seemed he was really intentional about honoring dad and us in that way. He would claim to be hardened and negative, but all I could see was a man who brought us joy and made us smile every time we interacted – a cactus perhaps…prickly on the outside, but tender on the inside.

That’s probably why I felt compelled to hug him on what was (hindsight) the last time I would see him. A few months ago, on our way into Ft. Scott for a visit with mom and dad, we passed by Woods as he was loading up his mower on a trailer. I took a second look to be sure and saw that it was definitely him. I remarked, “That was Don Woods!” and then added, “I’d kind of like to go back and give him a hug.” What a silly thought. But before I could second guess it, my sweet husband drove around the block and took me right back there to revisit this big character from my childhood. Granted, the majority of my time around him, I was young, so it took him a moment to process who this 40-something crazy woman was stopping on Wall Street. His reaction showed me he figured it out pretty quickly. I explained what had just taken place when we passed by, and he laughed because he was filthy and sweaty from working. “I don’t care!” I argued as I gave him a big hug. We played the 5 minute (or less) catch up game on the side of the road before I hopped back into our car to head on to mom and dad’s, smiling and laughing as I always do after interacting with him. I knew in that moment it was DEFINITELY worth the stop.

It was THIS most recent memory that immediately returned to me this week when mom told me the sad news of Don’s passing. I’m SO thankful my husband turned around and indulged my silly request. I’m trying hard to remember this lesson the Lord has been teaching me for many years, but especially this year…respond to the nudge…say the words…write the note…make the call…share the thought…don’t let the opportunity to encourage others with your words and actions slip by. When it comes to mind, put it to action.

It always feels like a gut-punch when people who’ve been around since childhood suddenly are not…even if I don’t see them routinely anymore. It’s a little like childhood is being dismantled piece by piece, person by person. It was only a few weeks ago that I made the drive to Ft. Scott to honor the life of one of my classmates: a childhood friend who is part of most of my school memories from the very beginning. There have been others as well. Piece by piece, person by person, change is invading. And just when it seems another part of childhood has been ripped away, I realize that it’s the opposite. The beautiful memories left by the people I have loved are being uncovered…not removed. Built up…not demolished. 

It is undeniably sad to part ways from those who are so big in our minds and memories, but with the parting comes the uncovering of so many little things we had forgotten. The building up of stories, memories, and the resolve to respond to the nudge.