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roninthorne
Sep 26, 2008, 5:19 PM
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Skip, aka Francis Wootten the Third, departed this mortal coil Monday the 22nd of September from injuries received while skydiving on Sunday the 21st.
Skip was one helluva carpenter, and a strong figure in the Boy Scouts, as well as a Katrina volunteer, via Building Goodness Foundation in Charlottesville, VA. This is where I met Skip, and became friends with an amazing man.
Ya wee dim fucker... I told you jumping out of perfectly good airplanes was a bad idea.
Now who the hell is gonna beat me at spotting the finely-silhouetted undergrad at the Corner stoplight, highlighting the many advantages of the sndress in an urban setting? Or actually find the line to drop on her later, at BeeDub's, leaving me with the check?
Who's gonna find the right way to tell the subs, the general, and the owner to take a flying leap in a way that will crack up every person in the room?
Who's gonna work harder, smarter, faster, and with one helluva lot more love and laughs than a whole crew of UVA summer volnteers, and still come into camp roaring in the evening light, while night falls over the remains of Katrina's fury and the Gulf Coast around us?
Who the fuck is gonna believe me when I walk down to the bay and tell them about the herds of feral pigs, the ice-cold seawater showers, or when I show them the big fucking hole where the boat sat, where Emily and T Bone fell in love and started another tiny superhero? There's a brand-new cottage now at the spot where we old burners sat and sipped cold Abita and watched the smoke drift away, where we found a way to laugh against the destruction and the brutal reality, the backbreaking work and the heartbreaking love and faith finally fading it all, the whole mess, into the fading red light over the bayou and the trees full of cranes, gators grunting in the dark and waves lapping the coast road, tiny beaches alive with sandpipers and invading armies of tiny crabs.
Who's gonna teach them drinking games and card tricks and corney jokes in Haiti and on the Reservation, now, Skip? I'm just a hard-shelled old raven, too harsh for the sunshine you used to splash across those faces, young and old, in the middle of some of the hardest work and conditions I ever saw.
Where ever you're off to now, I know it's a party. I'm sure you arrived like you lived, with a roar. Like people all over Charlottesville and the Valleys, across the country and the globe, I know I'll hear the echoes of that laughing roar, in the silent evenings here, in the mountains, for a long, long time.
Fare well, my brother, where ever you fare.
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sungam
Sep 26, 2008, 5:50 PM
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Sounds like a real character, I'm sorry for your loss of someone close to you.
The air time he's getting now will make 20s delay on base jumps seem boring.
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flipnfall
Sep 26, 2008, 6:38 PM
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sungam
Sep 26, 2008, 6:45 PM
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flipnfall wrote: Dude. When someone dies, the word "fuck" is really uncalled for. Show some respect. GT
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flipnfall
Sep 26, 2008, 6:46 PM
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markc
Sep 26, 2008, 6:53 PM
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flipnfall wrote: I really think his post is a hoax. GT
It must be a pretty elaborate one. Instead of speculating, you could have done a simple search to put your unfounded suspicions to the test. What were you saying about respect?
My condolences to all that knew him. Skip sounded like one of the good guys.
(This post was edited by markc on Sep 26, 2008, 7:43 PM)
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GeneralZon
Sep 26, 2008, 7:18 PM
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Obviously not a hoax. 
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dingus
Sep 26, 2008, 7:35 PM
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Registered: Dec 16, 2002
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roninthorne wrote: Skip, aka Francis Wootten the Third, departed this mortal coil Monday the 22nd of September from injuries received while skydiving on Sunday the 21st. Skip was one helluva carpenter, and a strong figure in the Boy Scouts, as well as a Katrina volunteer, via Building Goodness Foundation in Charlottesville, VA. This is where I met Skip, and became friends with an amazing man. Ya wee dim fucker... I told you jumping out of perfectly good airplanes was a bad idea. Now who the hell is gonna beat me at spotting the finely-silhouetted undergrad at the Corner stoplight, highlighting the many advantages of the sndress in an urban setting? Or actually find the line to drop on her later, at BeeDub's, leaving me with the check? Who's gonna find the right way to tell the subs, the general, and the owner to take a flying leap in a way that will crack up every person in the room? Who's gonna work harder, smarter, faster, and with one helluva lot more love and laughs than a whole crew of UVA summer volnteers, and still come into camp roaring in the evening light, while night falls over the remains of Katrina's fury and the Gulf Coast around us? Who the fuck is gonna believe me when I walk down to the bay and tell them about the herds of feral pigs, the ice-cold seawater showers, or when I show them the big fucking hole where the boat sat, where Emily and T Bone fell in love and started another tiny superhero? There's a brand-new cottage now at the spot where we old burners sat and sipped cold Abita and watched the smoke drift away, where we found a way to laugh against the destruction and the brutal reality, the backbreaking work and the heartbreaking love and faith finally fading it all, the whole mess, into the fading red light over the bayou and the trees full of cranes, gators grunting in the dark and waves lapping the coast road, tiny beaches alive with sandpipers and invading armies of tiny crabs. Who's gonna teach them drinking games and card tricks and corney jokes in Haiti and on the Reservation, now, Skip? I'm just a hard-shelled old raven, too harsh for the sunshine you used to splash across those faces, young and old, in the middle of some of the hardest work and conditions I ever saw. Where ever you're off to now, I know it's a party. I'm sure you arrived like you lived, with a roar. Like people all over Charlottesville and the Valleys, across the country and the globe, I know I'll hear the echoes of that laughing roar, in the silent evenings here, in the mountains, for a long, long time. Fare well, my brother, where ever you fare.
Fill up the pitcher
for old Skip Wooten
Raise up the glass
The good friend gone
(apologies to Steely Dan but I always loved that song and I always loved brave send offs like ^^^)
Cheers
DMT
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msiddens
Sep 26, 2008, 8:21 PM
Post #9 of 20
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Registered: Aug 13, 2003
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Sheesh, I know. If you doubt it do the work at least.
Condolences...losing a loved on isn't great.
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oldsalt
Sep 26, 2008, 9:08 PM
Post #10 of 20
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Registered: Jan 19, 2004
Posts: 919
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flipnfall wrote: Dude. When someone dies, the word "fuck" is really uncalled for. Show some respect. GT
flipnfall wrote: I really think his post is a hoax. GT
Who else can speak for what the deceased would or would not want written about him, than someone who knew and obviously loved him? You lose a good friend and you can decide how to honor him.
Do some research before you call BS on a post.
If my time comes before it does for my main climbing partner, I hope he tells about me in a manner that is appropriate to the thousands of hours that he had to put up with me, when he wasn't being my best friend and the brother that I never had.
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flipnfall
Sep 26, 2008, 9:36 PM
Post #12 of 20
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Registered: May 18, 2004
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dingus
Sep 26, 2008, 9:38 PM
Post #13 of 20
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Registered: Dec 16, 2002
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flipnfall wrote: Sorry. My bad. I was offended by the poster and should have just left it at that. I'm not sorry for my objection to the vulgar manner in which he spoke about his "friend." There's a time for freely speaking and a time to speak with respect. GT
You don't know either of them. YOU are way out of line here, not the OP.
WAY OUT OF LINE.
DMT
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flipnfall
Sep 26, 2008, 9:41 PM
Post #14 of 20
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Registered: May 18, 2004
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(This post was edited by flipnfall on Oct 17, 2008, 5:10 PM)
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dingus
Sep 26, 2008, 9:51 PM
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WAY.... out of line.
DMT
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climbingaggie03
Sep 27, 2008, 12:11 AM
Post #16 of 20
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Registered: Mar 18, 2004
Posts: 1173
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dingus wrote: roninthorne wrote: Skip, aka Francis Wootten the Third, departed this mortal coil Monday the 22nd of September from injuries received while skydiving on Sunday the 21st. Skip was one helluva carpenter, and a strong figure in the Boy Scouts, as well as a Katrina volunteer, via Building Goodness Foundation in Charlottesville, VA. This is where I met Skip, and became friends with an amazing man. Ya wee dim fucker... I told you jumping out of perfectly good airplanes was a bad idea. Now who the hell is gonna beat me at spotting the finely-silhouetted undergrad at the Corner stoplight, highlighting the many advantages of the sndress in an urban setting? Or actually find the line to drop on her later, at BeeDub's, leaving me with the check? Who's gonna find the right way to tell the subs, the general, and the owner to take a flying leap in a way that will crack up every person in the room? Who's gonna work harder, smarter, faster, and with one helluva lot more love and laughs than a whole crew of UVA summer volnteers, and still come into camp roaring in the evening light, while night falls over the remains of Katrina's fury and the Gulf Coast around us? Who the fuck is gonna believe me when I walk down to the bay and tell them about the herds of feral pigs, the ice-cold seawater showers, or when I show them the big fucking hole where the boat sat, where Emily and T Bone fell in love and started another tiny superhero? There's a brand-new cottage now at the spot where we old burners sat and sipped cold Abita and watched the smoke drift away, where we found a way to laugh against the destruction and the brutal reality, the backbreaking work and the heartbreaking love and faith finally fading it all, the whole mess, into the fading red light over the bayou and the trees full of cranes, gators grunting in the dark and waves lapping the coast road, tiny beaches alive with sandpipers and invading armies of tiny crabs. Who's gonna teach them drinking games and card tricks and corney jokes in Haiti and on the Reservation, now, Skip? I'm just a hard-shelled old raven, too harsh for the sunshine you used to splash across those faces, young and old, in the middle of some of the hardest work and conditions I ever saw. Where ever you're off to now, I know it's a party. I'm sure you arrived like you lived, with a roar. Like people all over Charlottesville and the Valleys, across the country and the globe, I know I'll hear the echoes of that laughing roar, in the silent evenings here, in the mountains, for a long, long time. Fare well, my brother, where ever you fare. Fill up the pitcher for old Skip Wooten Raise up the glass The good friend gone (apologies to Steely Dan but I always loved that song and I always loved brave send offs like ^^^) Cheers DMT
I agree with you Dingus, whenever my time comes, I hope I'm remembered like this and everybody has a drink on me.
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roninthorne
Oct 17, 2008, 1:06 PM
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Posts: 659
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flipnfall wrote: Sorry. My bad. I was offended by the poster and should have just left it at that. I'm not sorry for my objection to the vulgar manner in which he spoke about his "friend." There's a time for freely speaking and a time to speak with respect. GT
And if you think that posting on this site is a time and place for reverence and respect, then you need to pull your head out of the tiny, sphinctered hole in which it resides, gulp a looooooong pull off the strongest espresso you can find, and take a good look around.
This is the Internet, buck.
IN a church, with his bereaved family and friends, there, yes, I agree, there is the place for quiet remembrance and dignity.
RC.com is no church.
This is, as far as I'm concerned, an online wake. What kind of lame, puppy-kicking little wanker comes into a memorial thread for someone he doesn't even know, who never posted on this site or in any way played a part in your life, and takes someone to task who knew and loved him, over the way they choose to remember him? It's a miracle you weren't over on Stinky's thread calling people out for not knowing him but posting that they were sorry that he was dead.
Your post here, and your responses to criticism, tell anyone who cares to read everything they need to know about you, flipnfall.
May you live forever.
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wrmheart48
Dec 30, 2008, 1:29 AM
Post #18 of 20
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Registered: Dec 30, 2008
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I can assure you all that this isn't a hoax. Skip was my brother and every bit the adventurous person that is he described. I don't think the language used is inapproiate as if you really knew my brother you would know that everything that was written about him was done in a term of endearment.
My family misses Skip something horrible but we are very happy that he died doing something that he loved. He is loved and missed by many in many ways, shapes and forms!
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phillygoat
Dec 30, 2008, 2:02 AM
Post #19 of 20
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Registered: May 22, 2004
Posts: 428
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I found plenty of love and respect in the OP.
Sorry for your loss.
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gimmeslack
Dec 30, 2008, 1:15 PM
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Registered: Sep 24, 2006
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I had the pleasure of working with Skip on a project recently. No one had prepared me for him. 
Skip was a trip. Fanatically meticulous, intimidatingly opinionated, and critically skillful. He gave me a pile full of grief, we butted heads, and he then proceeded to make the necessary corrections, eventually laughing congenially about it and full well knowing that his work demanded such high standards. A true craftsman in the manner which is getting harder and harder to find...
I was looking forward to working with him again. Hopefully in the next one...
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