A Man Named John

The Bible says, "There was a man sent from God whose name was John." John Misterfeldt. I met him at Twin Rivers ten years ago. We became friends and training partners. We swam together two to six times per week for ten years. So when I say we swam together hundreds of times, that is not hyperbole. More like over a thousand. 

I have not written about anyone in this blog as much as I have written about John. For years I have lamented, complained, and vented about John being late. Once, my wife mentioned John in the presence of our daughter. "John!" she repsonded in surprise. "You mean he's real?" Both our daughter and son thought John was a literary device. I mean, no one can be late that often, can they?

Out of the hundreds of time we swam together, he was on time six. That is six out of probably a literal 1,000. I fussed about that a lot. I fumed about it, in part because John always called me and wanted to know, "What time?" 

Once I told him to just guess that he would be more likely to get there when I got there if he took a wild guess. That made him angry. Well, that made two of us. I was always mad at John. He was obssessed with when I got to the pool and would always ask me, "When did you get here?"

That question annoyed me. "I got here when we agreed to get here," would be my angry response. But he always asked, my annoyance notwithstanding.

One day at home, I was fussing about John. I was always fussing about John. My wife said, "You're going to miss him one day." That day is now. I knew she was right, but I did not know it would be this soon. John died early Tuesday morning. His cousin, Hal Williams, called and gave me the news. I cried like a little kid. It's hard for me to believe he's really gone. 

Besides swimming, we went to Alabama football games together, we talked together, and we argued with each other. I've never had a friend I fussed with so much as with John. In our last argument, we wound up yelling at each other. Yelling. He was raging about NIL (Name, Image, and Likeness; college football players can now be paid for these things). It is destoying the country, he told me. I told him it was not destroying the country because the country was already destroyed. He yelled that I could not believe that and go to heaven. 

What!?!?!

That was John. He was opinionated, argumentative, and intollerant. But he was my friend, and I loved him. The last couple of years had not been easy for him. But now, his battles are over. He 'fought a good fight, he kept the faith, he finished his course.' Yes, there is a crown laid up for him. There is a reunion with his beloved wife, Patsy. He is home. Congratulations, my friend. You made it.

John and I at an Alabama football game