Farewell to Gregg.

I first met Gregg Stanton about 25 years ago in a classroom at FSU. What struck me at first was, of all things, his voice. He had a measured tone that just drew me in, both calm and calming, like a professorial Mr. Rogers. He was charmingly rumpled, which I came to learn was his natural state. In truth, I was somehow captivated, but I didn’t quite know what to make of the man. I mean, who runs around with a full beard but no mustache? I had absolutely no idea the impact that he would have on my life. When I heard the news of his passing, it wasn’t really surprising considering his condition, but it was still a shock, as if that makes any sense.
Our time together during the days at FSU and afterward at Wakulla Diving Center were joyous; it’s the only word that seems to fit. Lots of diving, of course, but plenty of other times that were almost invariably some kind of adventure, whether large or small. I dubbed him “Papa Smurf,” a moniker that rang true among our little band of misfits, and he seemed genuinely pleased to wear it. You know how it was, he took everything in good humor.
As I look back and try to describe Gregg’s impact, the words seem small, inadequate to the task. I have tremendous affection for him, and I respect him like no one else, save my own father. I recall once, early in our friendship, telling Gregg that had I met him a decade earlier that my life would likely have taken a very different direction. Gregg, as one would expect, simply replied with a grin, something to the effect that I could change paths any time I’d like, it just took some effort. As it turned out, the path I stayed on is pretty great, and enhanced greatly by having Gregg walk part of it with me.
I’m pretty sure that Gregg’s hospitality knew no bounds, which must’ve driven Ann a little nuts. He was so giving of his time and energy, his knowledge and experience, his patience and wisdom. He was happy to share his dive gear, his boat, his sandwich, or even his home. He is the only person I have met that seemed utterly without ego, despite being a world-class instructor and a legend in the diving community. I was always awed by his humility and curiosity. He imparted knowledge in everything that he did.
As he taught me things about diving and became my friend, what took me so long to realize was that the sneaky son of a gun was teaching me so much more. He was like that, you know, quietly subversive. He taught me direct, simple lessons that went well beyond the pool or boat deck: Don’t panic. Use the “Three OS Rule.” Plan well and be prepared. Meet people where they are. Be patient. There are no problems, only challenges. He was an absolute master in letting you learn from your mistakes without embarrassment. His simple truths have made me a better businessman, a better teacher, a better speaker. Certainly a better Dad. Very few days pass that I do not put to practical use a lesson taught me by such a brilliant man. As a mentor, he is absolutely without peer.
When I heard the sad news, it had been quite a while since I’d seen Gregg. Florida to Hawaii isn’t a quick commute. While I have missed him since he left, I was so glad to know that he was back where he was happiest. Not too many people can pull that off. It made me wonder if I should have told him all this, but I’ve decided probably not. It always seemed that Gregg had a funny thing about praise… not in giving it, but receiving it. I think that he knew – most of it, anyway. Like all who knew him, I can’t repay all his kindness, all his lessons, all the debt that I owe such fine man. I figure that he’d want us all to pay it forward, anyway, and I believe that will prove to be the real legacy of Gregg Stanton.
Ann, Nicole, and Eric, thank you for sharing him with all of us.

By Trey Hutt