Wednesday, July 22, 2020
John was already 14 the year I came along, in 1955, the last of the Strode boys. When I was young, John was already at Delaware and rarely home to visit, so my first memory of John is a baseball game at Delaware, but what I really remember was how long the trains were that passed by the field, with so many cars I couldn’t keep count. To say that we were at least one generation separated would be an understatement. However, his legacy at Haddonfield High school was an ever-present reminder of who he was, and who did and did not remember him fondly, and treating me accordingly.
I got to know John a little better later in his career with Hercules when he lived in the New Jersey and Delaware areas and he would be present during family gatherings at our parent’s house. I would come home to visit for holidays from college, and later when I was working, and we would get to spend some time together at our parents or we would drive down to visit him in Delaware. However, our friendship really grew out of our mutual love of sports and our annual fishing trips to Cape Hatteras.
It was always fun to talk to John on the phone about the latest football, baseball, and golf stories and scores, and I would often call to get the latest scores and his thoughts on how so and so played because I knew he would have watched the game/match. His analysis of the play and the strategies was usually right on, although like me with my Broncos, his vision of the Giants, Falcons, and Braves were a little skewed; but he was always ready and willing to discuss sports and other topics during our regular phone calls.
In order for me to go to Hatteras in the early years, John and Dave graciously paid for most of my expenses, enabling us to fish together as brothers year after year. Our times there were more than fun as we not only entertained ourselves, but also the many friends we made, ribbing each other about our glory days, our shortcomings, and our real and perceived successes and rivalries in the fishing realm. I think part of the reason we made so many friends (besides regularly catching fish) was the lively and funny conversations we would have among ourselves without excluding those around us. Not that John was always the ringleader, but this kind of good-natured teasing and banter was one of his hallmarks, and one of which I’m sure others can relate.
The trips to Hatteras were a time when John could talk about things away from the stress and rigors of daily life, although sometimes it was only for a few days before he would have to leave to attend to problems at home. For the last several years going to Hatteras, I would fly into Augusta or Columbia, stay at John’s for a day or two, and then John and I would drive together to Hatteras and rent a place where he could avoid steps and other obstacles associated with his failing physical health. It was Dave’s and my pleasure to provide this help to John: after all, it was John's service to, and support of, Marti that showed us how to love and support your family unconditionally. We simply tried to reflect John’s amazing example. I have learned many things from John over the last thirty-plus years, but none compare to the amazing dedication and love he showed his friends and family.
