As some of you know, I used to be a newspaper photographer. The last paper I worked for years ago was the Knoxville News-Sentinel where I joined the photography staff in 1989. After I worked there for about a year, a new guy was hired. He was a hot young shooter just having been an intern at the LA times and the Philly Enquirer. I knew him by reputation from the NPPA clip contest, which used to be important for me back then. Anyway, this guy was a good ole' country boy from Kentucky who learned how to shoot at UK up in Lexington and his name was Clay Owen.
Clay was a big guy with a little infectious laugh and we became fast friends. He'd walk in the door and start every sentence with "weeeeel?..." and then tell you what was on hims mind.
For instance, he might say, "weeel pm-r? What's the plan for lunch today?..." but it would be like 8:15am. Or he might be looking over a light table trying to pick an image from his take and say, "Weeel pm-r, Gee (he really used that word, and 'nifty' too), I wonder if you'd take a lookseee here at these images (but he's it would come out 'imuges'). Clay always got me smiling just by the way he spoke.
Other than photography, we also had a love of motorcycles in common, and once we figured that out, we'd talk all the time about bikes and riding. I would talk about new modern bikes and Clay would talk only about the various dirt bikes he had ridden as a kid. Clay loved to jump dirt bikes and pulled monster wheelies all the time. His Dad told me a story the other day about him pulling a wheelie that he rode for 175' down a country road in front of his whole family. For those of you that don't ride, it's hard to understand the draw to something so dangerous but take my word for it, it's awesome for those of us that do. Nothing can get you out of a bad mood faster than hoppin' on a two wheeled machine, firing up the engine, dropping it into first, and letting out the clutch with 100 HP between your legs. Anyway, I digress...
Thing is, Clay gave it all up flat one day. His sweetie Jackie pretty much laid down the law and told Clay that if they were going to be together, then the bikes and riding had to go. As far as I know, he never got on a bike again. I offered him a ride a few times but he always declined. Smiling real big, he said, "Weeeeel pm-r, (hee, hee) it sure would be fun, but I don't think I'd better, "and if Jackie found out, weeeel..."
I've known Clay ever since he and Jackie moved to Knoxville seventeen years ago. We drifted apart when I left the newspaper in 1992, but we were always happy to see each other at UK-UT games and at events with Catholic Charities.
He sent me a message on Facebook the other day. "Hey pm-r, let's get together for lunch, just you and me, so we can catch up and talk about video. - Clay" Clay became addicted to Facebook in recent weeks, and was madly scanning photos of friends and putting them online.
Sadly, he got busy at work the day we were supposed to meet and had to postpone to the next week, and then one thing to another... you know how it is, and so we never really firmed up our meeting. Last Tuesday, Clay got off work, went to work out, and returned home. He walked in the door, complained to Jackie that he had heartburn, and sat down on the couch. Within a short few minutes, God took him home to heaven with Jackie frantic at his side. My heart is broken because Clay's gave out, not that I'm surprised. Clay was a big guy and like most of us, he needed to lose a few pounds, but I think his heart gave out because he worked his more than the rest of us. He was a gentle soul; a ten-year-old kid that never gave up his love of fishing, GI-Joe, Batman, and his boyhood hero, Evel Knievel..
I swear I never heard Clay swear in all the time I've known him. He didn't drink or smoke but the dude had all kinds of fun. While I saw him frustrated from time to time, I never saw him get angry or shout ever. He always had a kind word for people and that big heart of his just gave and gave to all of us till it could give no more.
Early tomorrow morning, I will climb on my trusty steed before dawn, and make my way North on I-75 into the Bluegrass state, hang a left in Lexington, and ride on to Louisville, where Clay's family and his many friends will celebrate his life in the context of a memorial service, and lay him to rest. I'm not sure if the ride there will be easier or harder than the ride back, but I'm riding no matter what. I will pray in thanksgiving for all the time I got to spend with him, all the laughs we shared together, and thank God that he was a part of my life. I will invite him to join me in the pre-dawn hours. We'll watch the sunrise together, coming up through the old mountains as we'll trace the path he knew so well: back home to Kentucky and beyond, one last time.
Call a friend today you know you should. Don't pass that person as you scroll through your contacts on your phone this week. Reach out and touch the people that have touched you this week because you never know when one of us will get a case of heartburn.
Last, if you have a spare minute when you read this, please offer up a prayer for Jackie who has her plate full trying to cope, understand, grieve, and figure out what to do with all that love she has for Clay who is gone for a while. Pray also for Clay's Mom and Dad. Parents aren't supposed to bury their kids and so keep Clay Sr. and Betty in your prayers as well. - pm-r
