When I met Chris Woodrum, we were hanging upside down, faces red as a tomato and scared out of our minds while staring at a large group of strangers. We were 8 years old and receiving our Bobcat badges in the Boy Scouts at a ceremony in Lebanon, Missouri, where we both grew up.
What was terror then is a hilarious memory now, fitting given the amount of joy he brought into my life and the lives of many others through the years. That joy, which included his off-beat sense of humor and humongous heart, is what I’ll remember the most about “Woody,” who died today at age 46.
Chris and I were in a small group of friends at Maplecrest Elementary in Lebanon, essentially all of the chubby boys and a couple of other “misfits” in our class. We sat together at lunch and consoled each other during P.E. as our overzealous and usually incomprehensible gym teacher berated us for not being able to climb rope.
That small group of friends shared memories that have lasted nearly 40 years and will span our lifetimes: Matt’s birthday party at Ken’s Pizza, crashed by one of the popular kids in our class who was a typical bully. Chris’ trip to see Sammy B. Good’s TV show in Springfield, which was exciting, but also made the rest of us a smidge jealous. Talking about the latest Nintendo games in the few minutes we had before class started in seventh grade. A jarring one for many of us when Principal Hough was murdered during our fifth-grade year.
My family’s stay in Lebanon was short, all of five years. We moved to Kansas in the summer before eighth grade in 1989. That was incredibly difficult for me as a 13-year old and my brother as an 11-year old. We had all of two weeks to say goodbye to our friends.
Even as the years passed, I wondered what became of Chris, Matt, Duane, Patrick and many of the other “not-so-cool” kids from Maplecrest, Hilcrest (sixth grade) and Lebanon Junior High. That lasted for nearly 20 years before the advent of social media, first on MySpace, then on Facebook.
Chris was one of the first people I reconnected with on Facebook in 2007. I must have peppered him and Matt with 100 questions about our classmates. If that got old, they never said it, answering every time I sent them a message.
One of the things Chris and I had in common was a special place in our hearts for our fathers. Chris lost his dad in 2007 and that hit him hard. I understood that 12 years later when I lost mine. Chris was one of the first people to reach out to me. We spoke about our dads several times, and he often sent me a message after one of my blogs about the old man.
His mother died in 2011, and that hit him just as hard. Despite those losses, though, Chris never stopped being a kind, loving soul. He usually knew about one of our schoolmates passing before the rest of us did because staying in touch with all of us was important to him.
Chris’ health declined in the past few years. He maintained a sense of humor, but he also knew his time was short. A few months ago in a Facebook post, he thanked his sister for taking him out for a day on the town, a needed break from his extended stay in a nursing home. That post included the line “I know that I might not have much time in this life,” but none of us knew how prophetic it was.
I’ll remember Woody for his love of animals, empathy for others and edgy sense of humor. I’ll remember playing paper football with him on a small table in the library at Lebanon Junior High. I’ll remember exchanging messages with him about our dads and his kudos after reading blogs about my old man. I’ll remember his somewhat hidden talent: an incredible singing voice. And, of course, I’ll remember hanging upside down next to him as a cub scout.
Chris is survived by two brothers, a sister, a number of nieces and nephews and his beloved pets. He’s also survived by his best friend, Matt, the Stowes, the Chaffins and a plethora of other friends who valued him more than he likely realized.
Rest in Peace, Woody.
Rest in peace Chris!
Condolences in the loss of your friend since childhood. I enjoyed reading about him. I lost two classmates (out of a class of 12) just this year, one being a second cousin. Glad you have the memories.
Ernie, I didn’t realize that you knew Chris and Matt. My son, Jonathan Ayres , was friends, classmates in band with both of them, and later worked with Chris. I remember when they got really wild neckties, which didn’t show until they popped the button on their black suit jackets to sit down in unison, at a concert. Mr. Ellison was totally shocked out of his train of thought for several long breaths. Chris aided and abetted Pokey ( Matt) on Senior night at the football game, in ‘mooning’ the spectators with a pair of brightly colored ‘Taz’ boxer shorts under his band uniform. I chaperoned on a lot of band trips, and I could expect to find them at the center of any mischief, not bad, just funny. Chris will leave a hole in the community, as far too many of our younger ones do now days.
Carole: Do you remember Shelia? I cannot remember her son’s name, but she was a scout leader, doing the best she could and they family was barely getting by. I think of them sometimes and wonder how their life went.