John

 

John in a Shriner's hat and nail through his head.

 

I don't have enough words to write about my Uncle John.

Ones that come to mind easily are: Funny, generous, smart, joyful, loving, curious, enthusiastic, and kind. 

The only negative words that cross my mind would be: Occasionally inappropriate. Some jokes didn't land. Some attitudes took time to evolve, but they eventually did. Because John was a true lifelong learner who never stopped reading and wanting to know more in order to be better and more compassionate.

My Uncle John was the youngest of his three siblings, and from his earliest days provided some of the all-time most enjoyed family stories. He was often compared to the Eddie Haskall character from TV as always a source for a bit of trouble.

As a baby in an old version of a wheelie saucer, he once got into the kitchen garbage and rubbed coffee grounds into his hair right before Grandma had company arriving and she'd spent all day cleaning everything. She said it was a terrible mess and he just grinned and laughed.

My grandma used to talk about how my mom and Joe would be contentedly playing a game on the floor, only to have John toddle over and sit on the board.

Once as a small child John didn't get his way and his parents heard him yell and stomp loudly up every single stair in protest. At the top there was a pause as he listened for a reaction, and finally said out loud to himself, "Well, that didn't work."

John once got separated from Grandma in a department store, and after a frantic search she located him sitting on the floor of a shop reading a comic book. He looked up and said, "Where have you been?" 

When John was a teenager learning to drive, my grandpa used to describe a harrowing trip around the block where he tried to direct John away from various obstacles such as garbage cans and curbs and parked cars. In Grandma's telling of the story, it always ended with Grandpa simply walking silently into the house afterward and putting himself into a room behind a closed door for a long time. Supposedly John called after him, "How did I do?"

Possibly my favorite story of John as a kid is how he used to ask his dad for an advance on his allowance, and then still collect his full allowance at the end of the week. His siblings were annoyed, but didn't protest until the day Grandpa reached into his pocket and didn't have enough for a full allowance for everyone, and started to reduce equally what each person was given. My mom and Joe cried foul, pointing out John regularly got more than they did due to his frequent advances. My grandfather was an accountant for Sears.

John's college stories always seemed heavily edited for young ears, but we did hear he hung around with a frat-mate named Bubble, and it was implied much beer was consumed and much fun was had. Most famously it was described how little he studied, but how infuriatingly well he did anyway. John used to regale us with how diligently his wife Charlotte studied, and how he decided to crack open a book only the night before exams. He startled everyone by graduating magna cum laude, and then turned to his parents and said if only he'd studied an additional day he "could have been summa cum laude!" 

He was overwhelmingly well-liked in his town of Marysville, despite being an outspoken Democrat in a bright red sea of Republicans. My favorite testament to his abilities as a lawyer came in the form of a condolence message to my cousin Tony a day or so after John's passing. The guy said John was the nicest person who ever prosecuted him, and even though he disagreed with the verdict, he admired John's professionalism. Then he added a P.S. saying, "I was totally guilty. Lol! That man did a professional job."

John's relationship with his mom after my grandpa died was really funny. Grandma was organized and practical and punctual. John less so, much to her exasperation. 

He used to do Grandma's taxes for her (mine too, when I was a student at OSU) and the only payment he charged family was that he got to check the box for a donation to the Presidential Election Campaign Fund. But as a lawyer he did a lot of taxes, and he treated the April 15th deadline for mailing it all in as a holiday. I think Gram went with him once to the post office which had extended hours and a band playing, and she said he celebrated with the postal employees as he turned everything in at the last possible minute. This always made my grandma anxious to have something important happen right up against a deadline, but that was John.

John also used to happily announce if we were all out to dinner that the check should "go to Mom." He paid for many things and made sure she was always comfortable and cared for, so she could certainly manage to pay for dinner, but I think he just liked the look on the waitstaff's faces when they'd start to hand him the bill at the end of the meal and he would loudly make sure we all knew Grandma was paying. She always smiled and shook her head and pulled out her wallet.

He made sure Grandma had a really comfortable chair up at the cottage that she could nap in. He's been the one tending her grave since she died.

I had the opportunity to live in my Uncle John's house for a summer when I was in college. I needed to live somewhere in Ohio before the start of my sophomore year in order to qualify for in-state tuition, and John found me a job with the Department of Transportation in Marysville. I mostly worked as a flagger on a road crew, standing in jeans and boots and a reflective vest and hardhat in hundred degree heat. I think John also intended to make me appreciate the value of a college degree after a summer of lower skilled work. There was a time where there was a produce truck on fire that necessitated all the cargo be discarded, and all the DOT workers got to help ourselves to as many singed vegetables as we could carry. John laughed when I walked in with all that food saying I was finally pulling my weight in the house. The wildest day was when a box fell off a truck (that according to local news was either going to, or coming from, somewhere) and they had to call a hazmat team to investigate. The call went out to any truck in town with lights on it to go to the scene. I was in a truck with a couple of guys, and we chose to park under an overpass where it was shady. It was pointless for us to be there, so we may as well have been pointless in a cooler spot. After a little while, some official stuck his head in our truck to tell us to "EVACUATE MARYSVILLE!" How? To where? John absolutely loved that story.

Living in John's house was really fun. My youngest cousin, Mary, is ten years younger than I am, so she was nine and I was nineteen. We were roommates who somehow shared clothes despite the age difference, and she could sleep through anything so I would play music in our room in the morning as I got dressed. I loved time with cousin Tony and Aunt Char. Nobody was ever on time to anything. Meals were erratic but good. Friends and relatives came and went because everyone was always welcome.

That was always a given. If you showed up at John and Charlotte's house, you were welcome. If they weren't there, they'd tell you where the key was (under the flat rock at the top of the basement steps) and you could help yourself to whatever you needed. They provided a space that was a safety net for many. One of my kids once told me in a fit of worry about her future that she was afraid of failure and ending up homeless. I said to her, "Do you really think John and Charlotte would ever let that happen?" Because of course she knew we would be there for her always, and her grandma, and any number of family and friends who would not hesitate to help if she needed it, but the sheer bedrock of love and stability that was John and Charlotte was the most reassuring foundation I could conjure, and it helped.

John and Charlotte hosted many a Christmas Eve dinner. Possibly the best Christmas event was when we all left John alone to decorate the tree--which he insisted he could do--only to come home to the big reveal of the tree in the stand still bundled tightly in its net, a string of lights wound around it, and a giant bow slapped on the front. We laughed about it the whole night, and enjoyed a Christmas Rockin' Eve exchanging presents as we danced. I've seen many trees, but none as memorable as that one.

They'd have us for Easter if we were around. They held baby showers and birthdays and general cookout events in their home. They hosted the reception for my brother Arno's wedding to Deepanjana. 

John was the judge who married Arno and Deepanjana in the courthouse in Marysville. Arno's not particularly interested in common traditions, and was somewhat unprepared for ceremony details. We'd gone down to High Street in Columbus trying to find rings for them the day of the wedding, and the only things we could find were in this funky shop with incense and tie-dye shirts, and they found silver rings with lizards. Arno's had lizards all around. Deepanjana's was a slender ring with a single lizard on top. When John led them through the ceremony and got to the exchange of rings, we listened as he gently gave instructions to Arno, "Left hand. Next finger. Lizard up."

John loved travel. John loved history. John loved to read and his library was always one of my favorite rooms to spend time in. John loved the Boy Scouts and Detroit Coney Island Hot Dogs and his cats. 

More than anything, John loved his family. He adored his wife in a way no one could question. He used to call her "the Bunny" and he liked so say sweetly, "The Bunny makes my life a living hell" which always made her laugh and say, "Oh, John!" There were many things that made Charlotte say, "Oh, John!"

He loved his son and his daughter and his brother and his sister and his mom and his dad, and if you ever met him you got the sense there was love enough for you, too. He made love feel both special and commonplace. It was in abundant supply. 

He made meaningful contributions to his community without any desire for acknowledgement. He was generous in a way that should put wealthier people to shame, because in all ways that matter he was far richer than any billionaire could hope to be. 

John was a wonderful uncle. He was the kind of uncle who wanted to make you laugh and spoil you with all the stuff he knew parents wouldn't indulge. He gave big bear hugs.

He specialized in a sliding severed finger gag that never failed to amuse. The ultimate time for the finger trick was once in church after the pastor mentioned the many miracles of Jesus, and Tony said his dad caught his eye and flashed the finger slide as if to say "You want to see a miracle?" Tony said it was very hard not to laugh.

He would give us noisy presents like a Mr Microphone (which only a sibling would give another sibling's kids) and was quick to hand out treats. Even in recent years where I was now a middle-aged adult, he would give me cash as we were passing through on our way to New York so I could spend it on something fun there. John helped move heavy furniture into my first apartment in college. He drove me to Toledo several times to transfer me to my mom's car so she could take me home to Detroit on school breaks. All of his nieces and nephews knew he was proud of them. He loved us.

And John loved my kids, so he was not only a great uncle, he was a great Great Uncle. He was delighted to have my kids around, and regularly offered to take them if Ian and I ever wanted to travel alone. I also enjoy my kids, so never found a time where I would want to be apart from them on a trip, but I was always touched by the offer to watch them for us. Maybe I should have done that. I'm sure they would have had a blast. He took us to see Indian Mounds, and the topiary garden downtown, and bookstores. He read to my kids from "My Father's Dragon."

As the baby of his family, I think John had a special affinity for my youngest child. We didn't often have sugared cereal in our home, but when we came to visit in Ohio, John wanted to provide all the treats. He once handed Quinn a box of some sort of sugar bombs and said it was all for her and it wasn't for anyone else to eat. She demurred, because maybe that seemed like too much, but John insisted, and all that cereal was only Quinn's. Every subsequent visit over many years, John always provided Quinn with her own personal bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup. He knew being the baby meant always getting the hand-me-downs, and always having to share. John made it clear the chocolate syrup was for Quinn alone. 

John proudly displayed art my kids made. (To be fair, they make unusually good art.) He had hoped to visit Aden's college and have her give him a tour. He offered out of the blue to find Mona a job down in Ohio and let her live in one of their spare rooms when she was uncertain about what to do after high school. (She didn't feel that was the right direction for her at the time, but fact that the option existed was incredibly reassuring at a time of many unknowns.) John was easily one of their favorite people in the world. This loss is hard on them.

Any average day with John was a good day. Aden described how her favorite was a time he was in Milwaukee, and the two of them drove around on errands, stopping for gas (where John chatted with the cashier about how he loved the city), and picking up pastries. The Canfora Bakery near the park had changed ownership, and the new pastries weren't as good as the old ones. The two of them started out excited about their cheese danishes, then slowly agreed the quality had declined. Aden said it felt nice to be included in a more grownup conversation, where her opinion was treated as equally valid. John didn't talk down to people. John was genuinely interested in what children had to say.

John passed away in his sleep after a birthday celebration in a restaurant for his daughter. He got to enjoy time with people he loved and hold court as he did at a table with good food. He was in his home next to his wife with no thought he wouldn't see the morning. In many ways he went exactly as many of us would wish to. Maybe its better to have some warning. Maybe its not. John had a wonderful and full life. I think he might have been painfully aware of how much more he wanted to do and how much he was leaving behind if he had known ahead he was about to die, so in John's case it was maybe best to go while content and looking forward to the next day.

News in small towns spreads quickly. Before the sun was up, people were already contacting my cousin saying how sorry they were, and food began arriving. The number of people coming forward to say, "John was my best friend" is moving. I can't believe how many plates of cookies keep coming to the house.

Funerals are strange things. There's grief side by side with joy. There are moments to worry the joy feels disrespectful, and other times when we know it's how we survive. There are people gathered we haven't seen in a long time. Having Domino along was not convenient, but she makes everyone smile, not just me. 

The sheer number of people who wanted to pay respects required a full day of viewings at the funeral home, in addition to the scheduled viewing prior to the funeral the next day. The open casket was hard for me, but it was very John. He was in his scoutmaster uniform, holding a favorite book (The Frontiersman by Allan W. Eckert). The room was filled with flowers and photos and a small shrine to beloved dog Smokey Joe. The music piped in included The Beatles, Paul Simon, and the soundtrack to Hamilton.

The receiving line in the morning was out the door and an hour-long wait. People drove from miles away. I don't know how my aunt and cousins had the strength to continue to greet so many people so graciously for such a stretch. 

The weather has been beautiful. The young cousins are enjoying each other's company. We somehow ended the viewing day feeling good, despite the terrible loss, which is how John would have wanted it. He would have enjoyed this gathering so much. I hope I play well for the funeral service later today,

John was a big personality with one of the biggest hearts I've ever known. John was funny, but when he was with his brother Joe the two of them were next level hilarious. At Joe's funeral only four months ago, John spoke of his brother going ahead of him into the afterlife to scout things out.

I thought we had longer with my Uncle John. I'm trying to remember to be grateful to have had him as long as we did, but it's hard not to be greedy and want more. I loved him dearly. I wish he weren't gone.