It can be said that humans spend half of their existence trying to see the world through others’ eyes. When we fail at this, pain and conflict can be found. But, when we succeed, it can be said, we find love.
In the cramped chapel of Sunset Memorial funeral home in Dothan Al, I witnessed row after row of skaters, bikers, old hippies and young punks, all gathered to honor a fallen brother, Jennings Wardlaw. These are groups that would never have interacted on a normal day. But today these people were comforting one another, not because they knew each other, but because they all, through different ways, knew Jennings.
Jennings Wardlaw, son of Berry Wardlaw & Tamara Bogo, was raised by and around bikers his whole life. He had seen and felt the sense of community and brotherhood that comes from riding together. Jennings was taught what it means to be a man and what it means to be a true friend by these people, an education that he used in all avenues of his life. Jennings began skateboarding about 5 years ago. Amongst his skater buddies, Jennings used what he’d learned from his father and other bikers to instill that same sense of brotherhood and trust.
Jennings was known for having an infectiously positive attitude, something he would use to help his friends whenever they were going through troubling times. Jennings could only see the good in his situation and worked hard to help show others the positive things in their own lives. Jennings had a huge passion for skateboarding and an even bigger passion in sharing skateboarding with others. He would mentor younger skaters and would be famously known for giving away boards and skate gear to anyone who wanted to skate.
Jennings’ visitation and funeral brought people from all over the country, many of whom made the trip on the back of a bike. Several biker groups were represented, including The Alabama Riders. Waves of leather filed into the chapel that day and joined the sea of tie dye that was worn by Jennings’ friends. Jennings’ had a special love for tie dye shirts and bracelets and as a tribute, many people made t-shirts the night before to wear to the service. I’ll never forget walking into the chapel and seeing this huge intertwining and mixing of black leather and tie-dye.
I’ll also never forget, at the beginning of visitation, wearing my tie-dye shirt and sitting quietly in the back, head down, eyes full of tears. When suddenly I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see an older biker guy, huge beard, leather vest with countless patches. He looked down at me with such kindness in his face. I knew he was there for me, and I knew somehow we’d all be alright. I imagine interactions like that were countless as the night went on.
When Jennings left us, he left a huge, black, impossible-to-fill hole. And on the night of his service, I watched with tears in my eyes as countless bikers, skaters and hippies united to fill that hole to the brim with love. I started thinking shortly after the funeral about these groups and looking for things that made them different. I couldn’t find one. These groups are filled with respectable, loving people who enjoy freedom and understand what it means to have someone’s back. These are all qualities that Jennings portrayed in life, qualities that so many of us learned from him.
By Jordan Smith
