Those Were The Days

 

My friend Juan Jose Lopez passed away earlier this week. 64 years young. My friend and former on-air colleague Sly was the first to tell me, via a text, in Sly’s inimitable way: “I think The Lord is about to call our friend Juan home.”

When you’re the news anchor on Sly’s broadcast – which I was for more than a decade – you’re bound to be dragged into some uncomfortable conversations with Sly’s guests (read: targets). I had more than a few uncomfortable conversations on-air with Juan, during Juan’s years as a member of the Madison school board.

I recall one particularly heated on-air conversation where I said, “Juan, you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” We were talking about Madison Memorial High School (Sly’s alma mater) football coach Wally Schoessow. Juan laughed at my barb, and the conversation moved on.  I still have a recording of it.

That was a couple of decades ago, and when I got the news that Juan had died, I recalled that conversation and some of the many others I’d had with Juan over the years, regarding the school board, Briarpatch, or any of the many other Latino causes that Juan championed.

Back then – which now seems like centuries ago – you could have a difference of opinion with someone, have a lively, pointed discussion without devolving into name-calling, and afterward, continue a cordial relationship with that person.

Not any more, it seems. No middle ground. No gray areas. Personal insults. Hateful social media posts.

Our paths crossed many times during my Madison years, and I ran into Juan at scores of public events. Every time we met, we’d shake hands firmly, inquire about each other’s well-being, talk about whatever high-profile cause Juan was involved with at the time, and even do some good-natured ribbing.

Juan would sometimes chide me with a comeback like, “And you say I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about?! Ha!” We’d laugh.

The last time I saw Juan was a few years ago, not too long before my wife and I moved to coastal Connecticut. Toni and I were having dinner at a Mexican restaurant on Park Street. As we were leaving, Juan was coming in. After the initial hello’s, Juan said, “It’s nice to see that you’re supporting one of our Latino businesses with some of those gringo dollars in your wallet. I hope you left a good tip!”

Rest in peace, Juan Jose Lopez. I hope they name a school and a bunch of other stuff in Madison after you. You sure earned that kind of recognition with your tireless advocacy.