A Life Full Of Promise Ended Far Too Soon

By DANIEL RUTH

Published: Apr 10, 2007

If you are a spiritual person, you have to believe John Winter is in a sunnier place - no more clouds, no more storms, no more tropical depressions.

Later today a very good man, a very funny man, a very talented man and yes, a very troubled man, will be laid to rest.

It's been an odd, uncomfortable few days around this place we share with News Channel 8, where Winter, 39, plied his trade as a meteorologist for 13 years.

The theme song for "M.A.S.H." says: "suicide is painless," which may be a cute line, but it is a dreadful lie.

After Winter's self-inflicted fatal gunshot last week, he left behind a family and friends and an entire community in no small amount of distress.

That's the thing about local television. With a press on the remote, you decide whom to invite into your home.

Rightly or not, fairly or not, Winter became more than just a nice young man who told you about the weather. That was almost the least of his duties.

Extended Family

For thousands of television viewers, Winter was their friend, in a sense a part of an extended family and most certainly an intrinsic piece of the community's daily rituals and habits of life.

And so when it is part of your unspoken job description to be a professional comfort to your audience, the tragic, dark, violent end of Winter's life becomes all the more jarring, all the more unsettling.

You would be hard-pressed to find anyone in this region who upon meeting Winter, even in passing, didn't come away from the moment feeling better for the experience.

That makes his death all the more frustrating, all the more vexing, all the more maddening.

It is probably understandable to feel a bit of anger toward Winter. With so many people in his life who cared for him, loved him, why didn't he allow himself to be embraced, to be saved from himself?

Such is the mystery of suicide. Why? Will we ever truly know?

Early Stages

Ironically, in the days before his death, the Crisis Center of Tampa Bay had begun developing a program to more closely work with the human resource departments of area businesses on providing information on identifying potential suicidal traits among employees as well as training and counseling.

The project is in its earliest stages, but perhaps Winter's death will serve as a catalyst to speed the effort.

After a private funeral today, a memorial service is scheduled for 4 p.m. at Hyde Park United Methodist Church, 500 W. Platt St.

How do you remember a young life so full of promise, brought to such a stunning, horrific end?

There will be many powerful tributes to Winter, about his professionalism, his community work with the Rough Riders, his annual Christmas teddy bear drives, his work with animal shelters.

There's this, too:

On the air on the last night of his life - before the demons paid their final visit - as Winter was about to take his place at the anchor desk, the floor crew had nicely positioned a fake piece of dog poo-poo on the meteorologist's chair for him to sit on.

And the last image the public ever saw of this gentle man was of him laughing and laughing and laughing - for the ages.