Birth date: Oct 28, 1938 Death date: Sep 8, 2015
John Ludwigson, 76, left this blue marble, Earth, from his home on Sept. 8, 2015. His family was by his side to say goodbye. A science writer and editor, John had diverse and intense interests from technology to ocean science to Read Obituary
So, so sorry ... My heart goes out to you, John's gems, his pride and great joy.
I got to know John late in his life through NASW, my blog, and his foray into social media. He was always a bright light and I enjoyed our virtual back-and-forth the last few years on twitter and Facebook mostly. My condolences to Rose and his daughter. He will be missed.
Laura Newman
Rose, I am so sorry to learn of John's death. Your home in Gambrills was so full of love and happiness and comfort; I am sure John is much missed. My thoughts are with you and Elli. Love, Kay
Thank you, John, for your kind words about my work. -- Tammy Powledge
I met John in the late 1980s when I was a relatively new part-time copy editor on the Post's Style section and was being regularly saved by the kind mentoring of John's wife, Rose. Rose knew that I had worked at The Oil Daily before joining the Post and that John needed some help editing papers for an oil spill conference, and out of that generosity came a freelance editing gig that proved a lifesaver for my family. John patiently taught me all the particulars of editing these very difficult-to-edit scholarly works. The check was nice, but even better were the few hours I got to spend in John and Rose's living room in Gambrills, enjoying a wonderful conversation. I have never forgotten his erudition, wit and kindness. I see the photos up on this site, and as a motorcyclist, I have one more regret: That I wasn't around on a bike when John was riding his. He'd have been an awesome riding companion, I am sure. To Rose, Elli and family, please know that you are in our thoughts and prayers and that I am grateful for my moments with John. I wish you the blessing of his memory and the solace of those who love you dearly.
Best,
Vince Rinehart
John’s Greatest Gifts
It is thanks to John that I was introduced early in the 1970s to the marshes, waters and critters of Chincoteague Island, an introduction that I have joyfully been able to pass on over the years to friends and family. His friendship, and that island, are his greatest gifts to me.
John and I worked together at Nautilus Press, transitioning from office colleagues, to spending time together after hours and on weekends and developing the structure for a lasting friendship. Shortly before I left Nautilus Press in 1977 Rose joined our small staff and she and John found the love and strong bond that will endure in each of their forevers.
Some years after John took me to Chincoteague for the first time, I was fortunate to be able to buy a beautiful property and small cottage on Sheepshead Creek, and Rose, Elli and John enjoyed getaways at the cottage many times, often planning the dates to coincide with Rose’s or Elli’s birthdays. (John’s photo with his obituary shows him standing on the property’s bulkhead with the Assateague Lighthouse – which he loved – in the background.) As Rose said to me recently: “I can’t tell you how many of our memories are tied to that island.” I know how she feels, because so many of my memories are there as well.
For certain, John’s presence at the Chincoteague cottage will survive his passing. There wasn’t a year that when by without John’s handiwork showing up, as he went about fixing things during vacation time spent there. One of the most visible fixes is shown in the photo accompanying this memorial. You see, the spiral staircase that leads to the upstairs bedrooms has potentially lethal corners on each of the steel steps. The small size of the living room means one has to walk extremely close to the steps when crossing that side of the room – and it’s a good idea to lower one’s head while doing so.
John’s “fix-it” gift very early on during one of his visits was (brilliantly, I believe) to cut a small slice in the cover of tennis balls and place them on the killing edge of each stair step. Many of are probably alive today as a direct result of this intervention and creative engineering.
I loved his intelligence, his knowledge of the marsh and ocean, his talent as a writer, and his kindness. He was a good man. He is missed.
Roseann Schwaderer
JOHN LUDWIGSON - 60 YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP
I first met John when we were both at Shaker Junior High School in
1954. I was a lonely boy, and he was my first and only friend at the
time. I became interested in astronomy, and many times we would
take my small telescope out to look at the stars. In high school, we
both took up photography, built darkrooms, and took the same
photography class. We were both photographers for the school paper.
While I was at Western Reserve University, my mother died suddenly,
and John and his mother provided a second home for me. We both
became interested in caving, joined the National Speleological
Society, and have remained members ever since. After we both
graduated from Western Reserve, I went into the army, while
John joined the Peace Corps.
After I left the army, I got a job in Washington, D.C. Soon after, John
also moved to Washington. We resumed our caving with the D.C. chapter
of the NSS. When John's first marriage broke up, I inherited his dog,
Freya, who was my constant companion at Cornell University, where
I did some graduate work. When John married Rose, I was present
at the ceremony.
I purchased a cabin on a mountain in the Blue Ridge. John and his
family would visit me there, and we had many good times together.
After I retired, I sold my house in D.C. and moved to the mountain
permanently. I don't travel well, so we didn't see as much of each
other as in the past, but John and his family would visit me on the
mountain from time to time.
John always kept in touch via email, and always remembered my
birthday. We both developed a love for cats (I now have 4).
When John became ill last year, I understand that he didn't
fully appreciate the seriousness of his situation. I couldn't accept
it either. I really expected him to make another visit to the mountain
this year.
He has always been there for me. I will miss him.
Dean Wilder
I only got to know John towards the end of his life, when he wasn't communicating verbally that much anymore, but I was very touched that he did take the time to tell me the lovely story of how he met Rose. Clearly that meant something to him! Peaceful sailing, John, to the great beyond.
Birgit
