BREAKING NEWS; Willard At 96 Rock with an unexpected serious health challenge

Willard had been a fixture at 96 Rock for decades. As the oldest DJ on air, at 96 years old, he was a legend in the city. His gravelly voice still had the energy of a man half his age, and listeners loved tuning in to hear his anecdotes, classic rock playlists, and biting wit. Every morning, he walked into the station with a smile, greeting the staff like family. To them, Willard was invincible.

But one crisp October morning, things felt different. Willard arrived at the station later than usual, his step a little slower. He waved off concerns, chalking it up to a late night of reminiscing over old vinyl records. As he settled behind the mic for his morning show, though, something didn’t feel right. Halfway through introducing Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven,” his voice faltered, the words catching in his throat. A sharp pain shot through his chest.

Willard, ever the professional, tried to push through, but it was no use. His hand trembled as he reached for the next record, and before he could finish, his vision blurred. Panic swept through the studio. His co-host, Carla, rushed to his side, concern written all over her face. “Willard, you’re pale. You need to sit down.”

He resisted at first. “Just a little tired, that’s all,” he muttered. But Carla wasn’t having it. She called for an ambulance.

Within minutes, paramedics were at the station. Willard was rushed to the hospital, where doctors confirmed he’d had a mild heart attack. He sat in the sterile hospital room, staring out the window, thinking about how life could change in an instant. A week ago, he had been on top of the world, still thriving in his passion, and now he was facing the one thing he had always seemed to outrun—his own mortality.

After a few days of recovery, Willard was back on his feet, but the doctors were clear: he needed to slow down. The station threw him a small on-air farewell, but Willard wasn’t the sentimental type. He thanked the listeners, passed the torch to the next generation, and signed off with his trademark line, “Rock on, my friends.”

The mic went quiet, but Willard’s legacy at 96 Rock would live on forever. As he left the station one last time, he took a deep breath, feeling both gratitude and acceptance for the unexpected challenge that had reminded him of life’s fragility.

Maybe slowing down wasn’t so bad after all.