THOMPSON: When the death of a friend stops you in your tracks
OPINION
A friend of mine for 46 years died last week. He did not tell most of us that he had lung cancer. We lost him, before we knew what took him. I respect his choice. He was never one to call attention to himself. He never smoked cigarettes either…a curious – almost insidious aspect – of that disease.
Reed Goodman was his name. I never met anyone who better lived up to his name…Good man. He was that…and more. I met Reed in 1979, when I joined the DuPont Company at its headquarters in Wilmington, DE.
Reed preceded me at DuPont by more than a year…after earning two degrees…one from University of Pennsylvania and one from Harvard University. He was the first Harvard man I ever met…and I was impressed…not just that he was schooled at one of the world’s top universities…but by his style and substance.
Reed was a few years younger than me. Later, as we became friends, we laughed at how much we were impressed with each other early on. I thought he was special…an Ivy Leaguer…literate…polished. He saw me as a welcome outsider…coming from General Electric…four years out of the University of Florida.
Back then, DuPont was known as a cradle-to-grave company when it came to employees…people came from high school or university and worked there until they retired. Sons and daughters of DuPonters…often ended up working at DuPont.
Hiring someone like me from the outside was beyond rare. After all, it was nearly 170 years before someone other than a member of the DuPont family headed the company.
Why friends become friends doesn’t depend on where you’re from…or where you went to school…or how you dress…or any of the other many superficial aspects of life.
But Reed looked like a Harvard man…he had that Brooks Brothers style…button-down, a reserved, conservative manner. I wore Italian, double-breasted suits with bright silk ties and pocket squares. No one else at DuPont wore pocket squares.
I believe a little bit of each of us wanted to be the other.
When I found out Reed played piano – quite well – I remember thinking, “Of course he does,” not in any jealous way…but in recognition of how well that talent fit him.
Reed was soft spoken…but that never muted his outrage over what he thought was mean-spirited or unkind. He would have been a perfect Canadian…he was that, well, nice.
Soon there were four of us at DuPont…three men and one woman…all about the same ages…who became fast friends. That first year, we worked together…and played together. We were The Four Musketeers. It was good times for all of us.
Nothing lasts forever…and we all went our separate ways in the following years. Reed left DuPont for IBM, then Digital Equipment Corporation, then Weber Shandwick, and Fidelity Investments. He was a consummate professional…an excellent communicator…a great manager and mentor for scores of folks.
I left DuPont and co-founded Stellar Communications in Washington, D.C., then Thompson Communications in Tampa and Naples, FL. I loved my work and the years flew by.
Reed found the love of his life 44 years ago, Joel, and visiting them at home in Massachusetts…I could see how happy they were. They were together until Reed died. Among all things that might happen in life, finding that special someone is highest on the list.
As I read Reed’s obituary, I could only imagine Joel’s sense of loss. I had trouble sleeping last Monday night. Reed will not be forgotten…not by friends and colleagues and family…and certainly not Joel.
The profound sadness I’ve felt the past week…will turn to warm memories…not as soon as I might want. But there will be smiles again. That is a fact I’ve learned after losing too many good friends and family in my 75 years.
Sometimes our lives are a blur…busy with a hundred things we think are important. We’re all guilty of getting caught up in what we call life. Sadly, it all too often takes a death…the loss of someone who meant something to you…to stop you in your tracks.
We all have friends and family that we give our thoughts and time…but it never seems enough when they are gone. As a reminder…please, everyone reading this…let those you love know time and time again…that you do. It’s not a vaccination…one and done.
The exit strategy for all of us in this world is the same. Our time is finite…make the most of what you and those you care about have. When your time or their’s comes…it will help sad tears become sweet smiles a bit sooner. Maybe we owe ourselves that.
