By
James Wardrip
Jon Paullin Wardrip… son, husband, father, uncle,
teacher and brother… my older brother. (The Paullin
was our mother’s maiden name.) In our family the older
brother was designated to watch over the young one. It wasn’t
voted on… it was a job just given to him when I was
born.
Jon took on that responsibility willingly. "Jon,
take Jim with you to the store. Will you take Jim with your
friends today? Watch out for your brother; we’ll be
back in an hour.”
We spent hours together: 101 cartoons at the Venetian Theatre
on Saturday mornings, streetball, stepball, one-on-one football,
ice skating, snowball fights. We even made uniforms with
crayons and underwear to play those heated Iowa vs BYU cottonball
basketball games in our upstairs’ bedroom that shook
the lights in the dining room below.
The older brother had to protect the little one from harm,
but that didn’t hold true to younger brother rules.
One late spring a water fight began with the neighborhood
kids. A bucket of water seemed to be something that would
have an impact against Jon and his team. As I charged, the
bucket slipped on release and caught Jon on the upper lip.
(I’m sure many of you have noticed the scar.) My brother
went to his senior prom that night with a large, very large
upper lip and five stitches.
Jon was always an honor student—a real plus for me
because I was known by teachers as "Jim, Jon Wardrip’s
little brother,” which almost always gave me an edge
on my classmates. I attribute the grades I got in high school
to the fact I was the little brother.
Jon paved the way for my experiences—take this coach,
this teacher, this class. I always got the inside track from
my brother. When he went to the University of Arizona, he
had helped start the Delta Tau Delta fraternity there…later
he called the Delta house at DePauw University to make sure
I’d pledge Delta Tau Delta. Again watching over his
younger brother.
in our family, not only were roles assigned, but we were
also color coded. When we got clothes
for a gift, we
knew
what was coming. Our dad got gray. Jon always got brown;
I got blue. That’s why I’m wearing a blue suit
today. We lay in bed many Christmases and laughed about that:
another year, another sweater: his brown and mine blue.
Jon was a curious learner all his life, intensely interested
in everything he came across. He wondered how hummingbirds
do that with their wings? This past June when he came to
Racine for his induction into his high school’s hall
of fame, he wondered why Lake Michigan was so blue, how the
harbor and marina projects were done…question after
question. A normal 30 minute harbor walk was an hour stroll
while he examined, reflected and wondered.
Jon was a special teacher…he loved what he did and
I’ve seen that love returned by students, faculty and
parents this past week. The South Carolina Web site carries
even more tributes to his teaching. A great teacher motivates
his students enthusiastically, interacts with coworkers and
looks to improve procedures, processes and participation.
Last week Jon held class in a different room, but he was
still teaching. He taught us to never forget to say I love
you to your family…if you can’t be with them,
make the phone call or send an e-mail or letter to tell them
I love you. Don’t let a single day go by. Also, tell
the people you work with the good things they do and how
much you appreciate their efforts. Have a passion for life
every day.
Jon and I grew closer since he was diagnosed with cancer.
We shared memories, laughed a lot and were able to reignite
our bond. He is still my older brother who’s watching
over me, paving the way. When I’m called it will be
said, "You’re Jon Wardrip’s little brother,
aren’t you!”
Love you and godspeed, Jon Boy. |
 |
By John
Lopiccolo
I taught with Jon Wardrip for about 15 years and have been
his friend for almost twenty .
Jon was a teacher, advisor and friend.
One way to measure the success of a college professor is
by the success of his students. By that measure Jon
was very successful. He had a long list of successful
students in advertising positions nationwide.
You can also tell how successful a teacher is by how his
students relate to him. Ginny and I went out with Jon
and Dottie, to football games, out to eat and to movies. Often
we would run into his students. They would come
over and speak to him with the kind of respect and appreciation
we would all like to receive.
Rick Stevens wrote on the College Web site about the time
we were out and a young woman came to the table to thank
Jon for the difference he made in her life. She was
part of his Maymester class and went to New York that summer. She
said the trip opened her eyes to new opportunities. If I
remember correctly, she wasn’t a journalism student,
I think she was an English major, but her one class with
Jon changed the way she looked at her prospects.
Teachers are also measured by their students. Students
are often critical of professors, but USC has a Mortar Board
Award for excellence in teaching. It’s an award
given by students through the Mortar Board Honor Society. Many
professors never receive one such award, Jon earned six of
them during his eighteen years at USC.
As a professor Jon was an advisor for many students. But
in addition to advising students he advised anyone who needed
it. His regular advice was to stand up for yourself
and let people know when they were wrong or did you wrong. I
remembered telling him about problems Ginny and I had on
a flight from Dallas. He said not to put up with it,
write the president of the airlines and let him know how
his people treated us--even through it was US Airways, the
airline his son Matt worked for.
When he went in for radiation one day the machines were
off because of a power outage. The second time it happened
he advised the medical staff that they should write SCE&G--tell
them patients needed the treatment and were being put at
risk, mention the possibility of a class action suit. Well
a letter signed by doctors and technicians was sent, and
SCE&G wrote back that they found an underpowered transformer
that was causing the outage and they would correct it. The
staff sent Jon a potted plant thanking him for his advice.
If a friend in need is a friend in deed, then Jon learned
he was a friend to many. So many were willing to help
when he needed it. Nancy Clark, Ron Farrar and others
jumped at the opportunity to give him a hand, or a ride when
he needed it. And he was always the advisor. One
day on the way to his doctor’s office he suggested
that I turn at Arrow Wood drive rather than going to Colonial
Drive. Nancy drove him that way and he said it was
faster.
He was a good friend to me. He loved telling stories
and was one of the few who liked to listen to stories. Often
he would ask me to tell him more about a story I had told
him earlier, which made me feel that he really was
interested in what I was saying.
Well, Jon it’s been my privilege to be your friend. I’ll
miss sharing stories with you. |
