Woj Bomb (Courtesy of Schefter)

Eff cancer.

 

Thanks. How did you do that? (I know I've asked this before but can't remember where to find the answer.)

 

Thanks for letting me know.

 

We understand that it probably feels weird for you to be doing, Mr. X.

 

Many ESPNers made the trip to Arkansas. What Woj was struck by was how many did not. “It made me remember that the job isn’t everything,” Woj says. “In the end it’s just going to be your family and close friends. And it’s also, like, nobody gives a s---. Nobody remembers [breaking stories] in the end. It’s just vapor.”

Three years ago, a guy who worked 40 years at one of my papers died in his 90s. He was a production supervisor, a man of great character, with friends in all departments. An institution at that place, and a father figure to me.

He had been retired for 30 years, of course, but many of his (and my) co-workers and friends still live here. I was looking forward to the gathering of all of us to pay our final respects and, like at most newspaper funerals, enjoy the camaraderie of the reunions that follow a good service, and the stories that are shared in that setting.

There were about 100 people at the funeral.
I was the only one from his newspaper days.

Three years later, I still can't f*cking believe it.

 

Hmmm. Yes, I see this.
Two weeks ago, I went to the funeral of the business editor from my first newspaper. His 30 years in that job encompassed all of my 25. Besides me, the only other staffers who attended were the legal reporter and her photog husband, and another sports writer. Four out of the dozens who worked in our newsroom.

 

I told the Mrs to put “no body gives a shit its all vapor” on my tombstone

 

With all due respect, the guy retired in 1994. That is a lifetime ago. I'm not going to any funerals for people I worked with last in 1994.

 

Understood. Just about everyone he worked with in production is still around, though.

I didn't expect to see newsroom colleagues there, but the entire production side whiffed.