“Johnny my boy! How are you?!”
I called my great uncle John’s home Thursday afternoon and for the first time I knew I wasn’t going to hear those magical words radiate through the phone. I knew when great aunt Bess June answered the phone that for the first time in seven years she wouldn’t hand-off the phone to “uncle John”.
A hand-off that had been so perfected over hundreds of phone calls that any longtime quarterback-running back duo would be jealous of how smooth of an exchange it was.
No, I knew for once it was just going to be a conversation between a grieving widow and a grieving “honorary grandson” who just a couple days ago was preparing to call his “honorary grandpa” thinking they hadn’t had their last phone call.
The best way I know how to process and express feelings is through writing, so please bare with me as I grieve the passing of my “honorary grandpa”, great uncle John, who passed away due to complications from cancer, pneumonia and ultimately COVID-19 (contracted it in rehab) last Wednesday.
How was I, a rural Illinois boy, so close to this retired 89 year old New York news executive?
Well, it all started seven years ago after my grandma passed away.
In August of 2013, we were calling relatives and friends of my grandma to tell them the terrible news that she had passed away. Among those we called was my great uncle John, her brother-in-law, who despite doctor’s wishes was emphatic about flying the 1,000 miles to attend her funeral in Illinois.
“Where else in the world would I have been?”, uncle John quickly recalled when I asked him during one of our recent phone calls about the last time he ever flew.
It was the first week of my freshman year of high school for me. Not only was I starting a new chapter without my grandma, I was starting a new chapter without any grandparents.
I felt a void, so I did something about it.
I emailed the best person I knew to fill that void…. uncle John.
The response I got?
So, I had my “honorary grandpa” and he had his “eleventh grandchild”. What uncle John didn’t know was it would be an even greater gift for me!
And we made phone calls and emails work just fine.
Hundreds of them over 7 years. A phone call almost every week with emails and visits to him in New York sprinkled in between.
We talked about EVERYTHING.
The phone calls would typically start with a reminder that my voicemail box was full and that he felt “like a young kid”. Could that be why this 21 year old related to this 89 year old so well?
His go-to question for me was always the same (even if he switched a word or two up).
So, what all/else is shaking/doing in your world?
Some phone calls I had so little going on that I would tell him the littlest thing going on in my life…. and he would remember it all.
Uncle John was an avid reader and he always wanted to know what I was reading. I was often times stuck on the same book, but every time I asked him his question he was always on some new book. It always felt like he read 5 books a week! Always learning. Always curious. Always testing his brain.
A lot of times what was shaking (outside of books) was sports. I loved sports and he loved sports. Football, basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis, etc. Just not hockey, because he could “never find the puck.”
When I started playing tennis in high school, he told me how much of an avid tennis player he used to be. He used to get up at 5 or 6 am before work to play and he would play almost everyday until the day his doctor made him quit because of knee replacements.
When I started going to Valpo, he was thrilled because we were in the same conference for basketball. He was a Loyola alum and so we’d typically watch the same games. We would talk about that Valpo or Loyola game we’d seen or would mutually say how in awe we were of how competitive the Missouri Valley Conference is.
Boy, was it fun talking to him when Loyola went on that March Madness Final Four run two years ago.
He would tell me “I saw where your Minnesota's….” and I would tell him what I saw about his New York or Chicago teams. Sometimes this would lead to jokes at the other’s team’s expense. In football, both of our offensive lines were always awful so we could always bond over that.
Another topic we would talk a lot about was politics which frankly we didn’t really agree on.
On paper we were on opposite sides of the political spectrum, but we consistently had the most civil discussions two opposing passionate people could have. It was honestly inspiring to see how we didn’t let labels do the talking. No, we let our passion and reasoning do the talking. We were also both big enough men to admit that there were times when we didn’t know the answers and we knew to respect the other’s belief. When we would try to understand the other’s reasoning and delve into the heart of the matter, we would even find that we weren’t as far apart on where we stand as labels like “Democrat” and “Republican” would have you believe. At the end of the day we recognized we were two people living entirely different lives and that there was way more to life than politics. We were both men deeply rooted in values, but our relationship with God and our families was above all else.
They were always the healthiest conversations of my week and I could always count on that.
Our faiths were often subjects of the calls. Uncle John was a daily communicant and a devout Christian. So devout he could never think of a favorite Bible verse. It was always the one he’d just read. Faith had carried him through some of the darkest times of his life. He knew when he needed God to get through things and in those times he would stretch out his hand in God and hang on for dear life. He used his deep faith to help me grieve my grandma’s passing. He knew grandma was smiling down on me and that we would be reunited one day — that this is not the end.
It’s weird to type that, as I now grieve someone who got me through grief when it felt like I didn’t know how. And yet as hard as it may seem right now those words ring true when it comes to grieving him. He was never scared of death himself because he knew what came after.
The funny things about talking to him were we were both people who wanted to talk about the other — I wanted to learn about him and uncle John was the most selfless person I ever knew.
So selfless that it would put my college schedule to shame when I would hear about his daily schedule in retirement. People. People. People. Seeing/talking to people everyday no matter where they lived.
Lunch this day with so and so. Calling so and so then. Poker once a weeknight (he would always make fun of me for not playing the “real poker” he played). Doing something with his church this day. Volunteering at the soup kitchen on Saturday. You get the picture. The man was ACTIVE.
Just two months ago he was amazingly selfless after he’d been hospitalized for a stroke and heart attack. I’d been in the hospital that same week for chronic stomach problems and when he found out I’d also been in the hospital he treated me like I was the one who’d had the most serious hospital visit of the week.
Will all that in mind, we both had to learn to compromise and talk about ourselves.
What did I learn about him??
Korean War veteran. Started his career working print press. After that, he worked at Chicago’s City News Bureau before moving to the Chicago Daily News, the same paper his father had worked at as city editor. Interviewed Martin Luther King, Jr. one-on-one a couple times during the 1960’s. Interviewed sitting U.S. Presidents (Ronald Reagan only wanted to talk about his movies). Senior Producer for the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. Vice President for CBS News. Vice President for NBC News. Retired after working his way up from senior producer to vice president and senior editorial producer of a CNN news magazine show where they made a lot of documentaries.
The American Dream: He lived it.
I also got to know a man who’s been through pain-a lot of it.
War. Overcame alcoholism and quit smoking 55 years ago. Buried his only son and 3 of his 4 siblings. 3 time cancer survivor dating back to when he was only 50.
And yet if you were to talk to him, you’d see the most compassionate, feisty, positive, charismatic guy God’s ever put on this earth.
That joy, that compassion, that happiness, that positive mindset are all rooted in pain. Through love and faith he overcame every obstacle life put in his way to the point where I could hear his vibrant personality and smile over the telephone weekly for 7 years. And if a man who would seem to have every right to be down and faithless, could express a vibrant personality like that then why can’t I?
Uncle John had experienced so much that he was able to guide me through every hardship I faced, because for every funny thing (and he was very funny) he said there was a wiser thing to follow.
He really did believe everything happened for a reason and that everything worked itself out in time and brought him to where he was today. He had no regrets because of it. He would always tell me how much of a “lucky, lucky life” he lived and that he only wished that I could go on to live such a lucky life.
Several years ago we had a really introspective talk one night and I asked him about his legacy. I asked him what he wanted to be remembered as. To him he just wanted to be known as someone who tried to live a good life. Someone who deeply cared about people. Someone who was extremely grateful for the life God gave him.
I remember when I was first going through depression last April how supportive and encouraging he was. When I wrote my mental health article last summer, he really was impressed and wanted to see it. I remember once he read it just how proud he was of me sharing my story and it feels good now helping share some of his story.
There were times in the hardships I faced that I‘m convinced uncle John single-handedly stormed the heavens with prayers for me and I tried so hard to the bitter end to storm the heavens with prayers for him.
Uncle John was so feisty and loving that he’d run through a wall for me and I’d run through a wall for him.
I remember in one of our final phone calls I was talking about how I had my first booked stand-up comedy show coming up (before the COVID-19 shutdown cancelled it) and how proud of me he was.
“Oh, I wish so badly I could see you do that.”
The last time I talked to him?
March 24th.
We hadn’t really talked recently because he’d been ill, so I emailed him to see if he’d be able to talk that week and within two days he’d emailed me apologizing and called me then.
I missed the first call, but when I saw I quickly called him back.
“I’m so glad you called back.”
I ended up being even gladder because that was the last time we’d ever talk.
I emailed him that next week apologizing that I hadn’t called yet in the week and that I was hoping he was feeling better.
When I called him, my great aunt picked up and said he’d ended up in the hospital again.
She told me to call back whenever I wanted, to see how he was doing.
When I called back that next week, she expressed optimism that he was going to return home once he was released from the hospital and rehab.
“I know how much he’s looking forward to getting back to talking with you.”
Last week I’d been planning to call back hoping that uncle John had returned home and that I could finally tell him the wonderful news he’d been waiting on that I had finally decided on transferring to the University of Minnesota, but before I could call I found out that he’d passed away in rehab.
I was so choked up when I heard the news Wednesday that I couldn’t string a sentence together, but now I can and I’m finishing the story of one of the greatest men I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing — and it really was a privilege.
My parents would constantly joke with me that uncle John knew more about my life than they did and they were probably right. Maybe that’s because uncle John wasn’t just my great uncle, namesake, or even “honorary grandpa”— he was my best friend and confidant.
I feel gifted to share the “John Lane” name with him and determined to fill those big shoes he left behind.
I’ll end the way uncle John ended most of our phone calls.
“God love ya, Johnny. Talk to you later. Buh-bye.”
P.S. CBS This Morning did a short tribute to uncle John celebrating his decorated news career and the way he lived his life. I think it’s a beautiful piece on him.
