Almost 4 years ago, I posted this on Instagram with such happiness and glee on Kevin Woodson’s birthday. Today, his family and friends will celebrate the life of this incredible man.
People from all walks of life gathered during his final days at the hospital. Everyone had special stories to share about Kevin, but that’s the way Kevin Woodson made everyone feel-from the young person who served him in the local drive-thru, who really enjoyed being called “Chief” by the man in his cowboy hat or the small children who were introduced to horse riding as Mr. Kevin guided them on his own horse.
As I wrote in that Instagram post, Kevin never left a stranger in his wake. From my experience at the building that housed ABC Radio and later in the early days of Reach Media, although many had loftier titles, Kevin was the Man around and about that building. After 20 years, there were people I never knew there. But not Kevin Woodson. He not only knew their names, but their mama’s names and where they went to high school-and not only the radio personalities or support staff, their families, too. And over the mornings that we spent together in the small room that I fondly called the News Closet, he would regale me with stories, between our moments on the radio doing our little jobs, about people he encountered here, there and EVERYWHERE-from his high school teacher Decatur Johnson (or was it Washington?), to people he met on the rodeo circuit.
Oh! The impersonations! We all know and love Melvin from the Love Lines bits, or everyone’s favorite addled Senior, Mrs. Leonard. But there were soooo many more: the colleague that took Kevin’s jokes about being height challenged, when actually he wasn’t that much shorter than Kevin to the folks he ran into at Grandy’s drive-thru to the man whose name was in the jingle. But his personality was larger than life!
Kevin was never afraid of having the difficult discussions with people not on the same page as he. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of history, African American and otherwise. Often, he and our engineer Ross would get involved in these stem-winding discussions about race, politics, or who had the best Iced Tea. At some point, I would ease out of the production room and go about my day. HOURS later, we’d hear the door squeak open and hear Kevin yell on his way out, in animated disgust, “Phooey on you, Ross! Phooey!”
But the best stories were about his family-his daughter Leah to his father, a horse racing enthusiast. One of our last conversations was when he told me that his baby was having a baby. He was so excited! And I was excited for the gift that baby Harper was going to receive in the person of her “Papa,” Kevin.
If we could bottle all of the things we learned from our adventures with Kevin, and share them with Harper, she and her Mommy will be in possession of some of the most valuable possessions in the world: the life and times of Kevin Woodson.
As we say goodbye to the physical carrier of this special man, all I can think, is Kevin may be gone, but never forgotten. Phooey, to the illness responsible for bringing us to this day: Phooey!