Satellite/ Amanda
Last Saturday I parked in McCallarama (Kalorama to the rest of D.C.) and walked your sidewalks to Adams Morgan's Crafty Bastards fair. You should have been there to mock the hipsters and their cute monster tees. After a full afternoon seeped in your geography I was feeling your absence like a knitter's needle (oh yeah there was lots of knitters there too). On Sunday went for a run and heard the song that I never truly heard until you died Satellite and walked into the gym with a big ol lump in my throat. A woman who I refer to as "one of the gym ladies who think I'm a cardio dancing fool" came up to me and said four months later: I just wanted to tell you how much I loved that article you wrote about your friend."
And then I balled right there next to the exercise balls.
But it's good to know your satellite is still in orbit and coming through. Close
So I don't know..What would John do? I have tried to suppress my emotions for far too long. He was all I had; the idea of him was all I had. Someone perfect someone fun someone surprisingly witty someone amazing. My husband says "do what Nicole wants to do" but I want to be with him even BE him (Amanda you know what I mean). As sad as I am I think what would he be doing what would he would want.
Uncle John I think about you everyday. You are the only inspiration in my life the only strength. I wish you were here more than ever; I need you. There is no replacement……………..I never want to forget even one small detail of you……YOU are EVERYTHING to me the only love I’ve ever known.
The Last Act / Amanda
An article I never wanted to write about a eulogy I never wanted to give for a friend and dance partner I'll never forget. The column is called XX Files, but I'll just think of it as my XO File.
Glory Days / Amanda
Just wanted you to know I'm sorry for my relapse in paying tribute and writing notes to you. I blame Facebook, a short-staffed magazine and Obama. Of course, I blame you for me even being on Facebook, or at least for me being super status-conscious. When you were in the room , there was never any question of living in the moment, as opposed to documenting the moment, and trying to sound oh so clever while doing so. Oh yeah, if you're keeping track of things I blame you for, let's just recap: 2007 (or at least my slingshot rationale of professional decisions), being one of maybe five people who gets nostalgic in Rosslyn, Kathy G.-induced tears, avoiding the the Mass. Ave exit of Rockcreek Parkway,that Karen Walker satiny, see-through-ish shirt I wore at your service and not being able to watch this damn Bruce Springsteen halftime show without thinking of the one reason you'd turn on the Super Bowl. Close
Auld Lang Sign / Franny
I made my annual Mummer's Day trek to the city of brotherly love and sisterly devotion. You know I love that cheesy, tacky parade and all of it's bad drag. The whole time I was there, I had thoughts of John and Jerry O'Neill in my head. Jerry's b-day is January 4 and of course we know the significance of January 5. (I know they are having a good time somewhere along with our Anthony, Jimmy Kerr and Michael Bowen.) I went to visit my Aunt Mary - yes - Mary - on January 4 in the nursing home. I signed the book and said to my Aunt Peggy, "today is Jerry's birthday and tomorrow is John's anniversary. I was so caught up in visiting with my family for the rest of the day that for a moment, I don't want to say I forgot. but it escaped my memory. On Monday, I was riding with my sister to go pick up my mother for some shopping and the radio brought me back to what day it was. "hey, hey, hey, hey. Ooooh, oooh, oooh, OH! Won't you come see about me. I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby." I started to cry. Then I smiled. Thanks for tapping me on the shoulder. More than miss the bluest eyes. Close
Well, looks like you're still center stage in 2009. Last night (NYE), I returned to the Woolly Mammoth theater. It was the first time I'd been back since your memorial service. I stayed in the audience this time. Robert and I went to a fantastic, mind-blowing improv show (from the NeoFuturists in Chicago, where else?!) that was composed of 30 plays in 60 minutes.
The four-person troupe passed out a list with all the titles of each play and then did them in the order shouted out by the audience. It was quick and hyper and a bit manic (like my own "performance" there) and most were funny or bizarre or both but some were serious, including one with just one actor on stage, following the instructions of a voice off stage that was telling him to do all these simple things such as:"Sit in the chair. Stand up. Lean back. Lean back more (until he fell over) Kick the chair. Go ahead, kick it, you'll feel better. Stand up on the chair."
Intermittingly, the voice would ask, "Are you comfortable?" and he'd say, "Yes."
Then someone came on stage and took the chair away. The voice told him to sit down, as if the chair was still there. So he's squatting, awkwardly on stage and for the first time, after going through all the motions and doing what he's told, he speaks.
"Where's Peter?" he asks. The voice says nothing. Again: "Where's Peter?" Nothing.
He's up there, all alone in a vacuum of silence, uncomfortable and frustrated with no answers. She finally asks again, "Are you comfortable?" And this time he says, "No."
Lights go dark.
The name of the play: How to talk to your dead friend. The name of the actor: John.
All is quiet on New Year's Day. A world in white gets underway. I want to be with you, be with you night and day. Nothing changes on New Year's Day. On New Year's Day.
I... will be with you again. I... will be with you again.
Under a blood-red sky A crowd has gathered in black and white Arms entwined, the chosen few The newspaper says, says Say it's true, it's true... And we can break through Though torn in two We can be one.
I... I will begin again I... I will begin again.
Oh, oh. Oh, oh. Oh, oh. Oh, maybe the time is right. Oh, maybe tonight. I will be with you again. I will be with you again.
And so we are told this is the golden age And gold is the reason for the wars we wage Though I want to be with you Be with you night and day Nothing changes On New Year's Day On New Year's Day On New Year's Day
I wish I could have one night with you, like some of your loved ones!!!!!! They were lucky. You inspire me with your U2 original sound tracks!! My wife Nicole “baby angel” is always thinking of you every day. One day we will meet again, one day. Love always your nephew in law!!It’s a beautiful day just thinking about you!!! Can’t wait to see you uncle John!!
John, Wait (e)! / Amanda
"I ain't missing you, I ain't missing you at all ... Since you've been gone, AWAY. I ain't missing you ... No matter what my friends might say."
There are many pathetic things about my relationship to this John Waite song.
One, I did not have to Google the lyrics to it -- and could keep going for a few more verses from memory.
Two: In seventh grade, after returning from a weeklong visit to see my half sister, I got a call from my boyfriend, Jamie Crawford, who said he spent the week flirting with one of my friends at the county pool and going to her house to ride three-wheelers. And he wanted to change "our song" from Bryan Adams' "Heaven," to this one, at which point he held up the phone to his boom box and played it. He thought it was wickedly funny. He DID NOT get the irony (did I just misuse that word, Alanis style?) Anyway,I was too heartbroken to to explain the whole "doth protesting too much" thing, John Waite was trying unsuccessfully to convince himself that he was not aching with longing, nor did I point out the much more telling lyrics: "You don't know how desperate I've become and it looks like I'm losing my mind."
And now for the third and most pathetic connection: I can think of no other song than this one right now when I think of John. It's unforgiveable, truly, given all the songs that he played for me, filled my iPod with, forced me dance too -- and vice versa. And it's not as if I haven't broke down in tears at the first few notes of any of them these last few years, but right now I just want to grab John and say to him what I didn't say to Jamie in 1984:
Do you miss me at all?
Now that's pathetic. But I get mad a lot these days at the no-Johnness of my life and I find the question creeping in before rational thought can quiet it. Do you miss me, John? Did you ever miss me when we were apart? How lopsided was the difference between when you'd call from pittsburgh, prague, philly or p-town (pfffft) and say, "Miss ya, Darlin" and when I'd sit at work bored out of my skull at the extreme ordinary, inappropriate touching/talking/instant messaging-free day I was having?
It's impossible to imagine you lonely. I know you were hon. I do. But alone -- as in without others physically near you? No way. People rushed into fill up the space, to get a taste, to feed off the energy, the chemistry. the love, the words, the charm, the seduction, the attention, those eyes. Hell, I used to just like inhaling your smoke. And I don't smoke.
No wonder you were spent. I'll never forget what I said to you after one of those gazillion times when you wanted to cancel on a blind date or dinner party or cocktails with the agent or something -- but wouldn't. You didn't feel like being everything to every audience member. Or the beautiful but brainy one, the Men's Fitness reader with The New Yorker talking points. So I said, "John, you can't always be your Friendster profile."*
(*this was when before the myspace/facebook empire took hold.)
Good advice, but selfish too. I liked the non-glossy, not so-ready for-his-close-up John. The one without his "going-out" choker necklace/graphic-t combo. The one who'd call me and cancel tenative after 9 p.m. plans because the couch was calling and forgive me when I did the same. The one who'd ask me to walk down to the bank with him so two balance-statement fraidy cats wouldn't be alone. The one, who en route to CVS for our respective vices (candy and ciggies) would be able to commisserate about dental bills and too-smart therapists who wouldn't be fooled by our charm, humor or insurance excuses.
I'm off topic and in a funk. See, this why I'm relying on an 80s Brit pop star for my topic sentence. I cannot write about John. I've been trying to put together an article, a first chapter of a book, a nonrambling blog entry(contraction in terms?) and I just can't. Well-meaning friends and former editors tell me I should.
But I don't wanna.
I don't want to write about my dead best friend because I don't want him to be dead and I don't know if I deserved the whole best friend thing.
I don't want to write ANY more about my dead best friend because I've been writing about him since that fkin awful day when I had to write emails to boyfriends in other continents, relatives in the worst kind of pain and obituary writers in need of a cohesive quote and nice pix.
I don't want to write about him because I don't know how it will end. What's the tidy theme? What's the lesson learned? What change has this brought about it me? Don't ask me. I"m not there yet.
And that is why I am so glad Nicole is. She's found the balls (she is his niece) and the will to write about the one we all loved to read.
So help her out. Tell her (nm_schaffer@comcast.net) your John stories and don't hold back -- maybe even grab your boom box and hold it up to the phone so she can hear the soundtrack of just how much you miss John.
You know death is a thing that we all experience in our lives, and before it actually reaches us, it touches our soul. I wake up crying every morning lately, and the only thing I can think of to do is to write.
No one in this world has inspired me to write more than my Uncle, even at a young age. I was wondering if I should write a book about my Uncle and the feeling that come to people experiencing loss. That would be all of you, and me. He always told me when writing to get "just the facts", and sometimes when reporting facts, they could also be reporting feelings.
I would love to "interview" every one of you, and everyone that has touched my Uncle's life. I know that the impression that he has made on everyone would be immense. I want to know all about this experience and how people feel.
Maybe it will make me feel "better"; maybe it will stop some of the missing to see him in some other memories. Please let me know what you all think. Feel free to e-mail me, call me, etc. I will reach out to as many people as I know he knew within this next year.
laughing/ Franny (friend)
Todd and Steven and their little girl were here this past weekend. I showed him this site. He had never seen it before. Then I showed him some old emails I saved. Who would have thought that I was saving them for a reason? I loved reading John's writing. My favorite was one about Prague with John describing how it began to snow. Beautiful. Christmas. So simple. Those few words gave me a feeling of warmth and peace. I just can't explain it. I am sad that I will never get to read any new stuff.
The Todd family was here a few months back. Their little girl, Maya, has some special needs. We went to Legoland and while she was on a ride with my little girl, Emily, Todd said to me, "Maya reminds me of Dot from MadTV. She has this wonderment about everything." (I have gum. Where is my glove?) Then we bust out laughing because I know who DOT is. I said that we are rotten, horrible people and Todd said no we aren't. It's just funny. It was really nice getting the front of the line pass because Maya can't wait an hour to get on a ride. Front of the line for 6 please. While we were all waiting at the front of the line to get on a ride, and dealing with the stares of the people standing in the hot sun for an hour waiting to get on said ride, Maya began signing out of nowhere, "Hey there Georgie girl." What else could we do except join in. We all laughed like crazy.
barann@mac.com/ Baran Numanoglu (a Friend )
I just returned from a short trip in the Cappadocia today to learn that my favorite American friend has passed away. I was @ the Kayseri airport and ran into Claire (Our mutual friend) she told me that we lost John...I am in total shock that I cannot find words to explain. I left America in 2003 and John was the first person to e-mail me and ask me to keep in touch no matter how far we are. Now I feel terribly bad that I didn't find time to check on him :(
I have lost a very good friend. I lost a friend without even a good bye.
This is a very sad day for me as I will miss John alot. I will have a bit of a tough time with this for a while. I feel like my connection with my days in DC is gone...
I'll miss John,
Baran
from İstanbul, Turkey Close
Bonkers and best friends / Franny
Silly me thinking Bonkers was a dog. I never imagined Bonkers being a cat. I know that John was a lover of John Irving (my favorite book ever is A Prayer for Owen Meany). I romantically thought that someone had a dog named Bonkers after the Pearcy's dog that bit Garp.
Was there recently a wedding celebration in Miami? I know Nicole mentioned it a while back and I thought it was sometime in June. If so, did you party like it was 1999? I remember an email I got from John before Y2K and he used that corny line. I also remember one he sent me after being in France and finding ashtrays in the elevators. To quote John: "I'm home, I sighed." Whenever we went to a restaurant and they asked smoking or non smoking, we would reply EXTRA SMOKING. We always sat at the counter at the Melrose. Smoking was mandatory at the counter. The waitresses served food with a butt hanging out of their mouths. Chipped beef and Marlboro lights for me. French toast and sausage and Marlboro reds for John.
I try to live my life so that I have no regrets. The one regret I do have however, is that I wasn't a big picture taker. Being in a drunken haze for most of my 20's, I doubt I would have been able to keep track of a camera. Since I had kids, that changed things for me. I want to be able to document their life for them so they can see themselves as they grow. I wish I had a picture of John and me. Please flatter me and tell me that you may have found one. Or two? If not, it's okay. I have plenty in my mind's eye.
Some people may live their whole lives and not find good, true friends. I am lucky in that I have my same friends for over 40 years. I lost Jerry but he's still around. John was also my friend. And even though I hadn't had much recent contact with him, it will never erase the time we spent together being best friends. The thing about good true friends, is they make everyone feel like they are their best friend. I will never forget how John made me feel. He will always stay in my heart. "We're dancing for the restless and the brokenhearted..." Close
Bonkers, as his story begins, was a cute Himalayan cat with of course Blue eyes who changed our lives forever. Because of him, I will never see an animal or thing on this Earth the same. He was our family, and a gift from what has created us, as I know we are still linked together for all eternity. Uncle John had him for many years, and in the millions of papers and notes I have from my dear Uncle, I see vet bills, and constant reminders of how much he cared for this cat. Franny, I will post a picture on this site, as they are together now! Bonkers lived a crazy life, damaged as his family, yet healed through them. Luis was one of the last to touch him and Uncle John. Not Luis, but my Luis, they both said "Good Bye" to him, because they knew that Luis would have to take care of me. Even though he can not fully understand their meaning to me, he feels their weight on my soul. Bonkers was, and will always be, the most beautiful "pet" anyone could be so honored to have. He was too cool for words, just as Uncle John has always been. They belonged together from day one. When Uncle John lived with him, or vise versa, they napped together religiously. "Their beauty sleep", if you will.... Together forever.... The power of remembrance gets me every time. I can not believe that the few I lost, were so powerfully intertwined. The story has no end, which I know anyway. It’s too powerful, and they are together. So, Franny yes, Bonkers was our cat, and still is, and most importantly was Uncle John's. He was named “kitty litter”, but had a much bigger destiny. I lost him to be with my Uncle. They were soul mates, too cool for anyone else. So independent, so something I can not understand. Only the people that knew them could “get it”, although never be able to put it into words. If only you could see their eyes, you would see what we all always had.
Nate-like and David and Maddie / Franny
Was there ever a better scene in TV than Nate in the white suit singing, "I just wanna celebrate?" Only in Claire's dreams...
I was at the pool tonight and had my Sirius on the 80's channel. First Simple Minds singing Don't you forget about me, then Cyndi singing Time after Time but the real goosebumpy moment came when they played a snippet from 80's TV.
Some walk by night, Some fly by day. Nothing could change you, Set and sure of the way.
Charming and bright, Laughing and gay. I'm just a stranger, Love the Blues and the Braves.
There is the sun and moon Facing their old, sweet tune. Watch them when dawn is due Sharing one space.
Some walk by night, Some fly by day. Something is sweeter When you meet 'long the way. Close
So, Franny rightfully cast you as Mr. Big in many of our episodes. And boy howdy, did you fit the role (and fill out a suit) like him. You two also shared a disdain for traffic -- if only we could have found a driver for the ex-Lex or the Ford Focus!
But, I have to wonder (she types, so very un-Carrie-like on a big ol honkin' desktop PC, no cocking her head upward, or crossing her legs behind her, beach-blanket style and NO flimsy nightie or cup of tea -- just a diet sunkist and beagle 'give pee a chance" t-shirt) -- anyway, she has to wonder if you're even too big for Big. He, finally, got tied down or at least happily tethered. You, on the other hand, have left us all wanting, reaching for you like those cliched balloons that got away in the show's promo.
OK. Snap out of it.
You were always more a Brenda than a Mr. Big, anway.
But the loss of you has been Nate-like, to carry through the HBO metaphor on this Sunday night.
Cushie Percy / Franny
I saw a few posts with the mention of Bonkers or Bonkie. Whose dog is this and Bonkers named after the Bonkers that bit Garp? Close
Which one are you? / Franny (lady friend )
Carrie, Samantha, Miranda or Charlotte? I saw the movie 2 times. The first time by myself so I could absorb every word and dress and pair of fabulous shoes. The second time to see if I would like it as much as the first time. I did. I got to thinking which girl am I most like. I think that everyone is a combination. I am a Miranda with the Carrie love of shoes. After all, what girl doesn't love shoes. I was a Samantha back in the day when it was okay to be a Samantha. You were the Smith to my Samantha. I think the only similarity to Charlotte is the whole conversion to Jewess thing.
One thing I really loved about the audience was that there were so many old broads or "Janies" after Ginger's grandmother. Old sluts - fabulous! There was also the required amount of gay boys. I called Joey Connor to tell him that he is my Stanford Blatch. I was going over in my head which of the characters Jerry would be. Definitely Samantha. I think you would be a combination of Carrie for your fashioness, Miranda for the clever dialog and Anthony Marintino for the "don't give me any of your bullsh*t" snap.
Then there is Big. Everyone has had a Big in their life. You will always be Big to the fans. Me being one of your biggest. Close
Back to when I didn't know you yet / Amanda Long Read >>
Back to when I didn't know you yet / Amanda Long
So I've spent the last year reinventing myself or trying to unsuccessfully. I think I thought that the Mandy who sells $84 wicking yoga pants and freelances from home might not miss John as much as the Miss Long who sat two inches from him at work (and sometimes wore yoga pants disguised as palazzo-pant Friday wear at said job). But after dancing around the shop with a bunch of gay boys and stealing drinks of contraband Diet Coke in the alley behind Lululemon, I only missed you more because I had to tell everyone about what they were missing by never knowing you. Then I figured (or more like flung myself into thinking) that maybe if I became a crusading ironic t-shirt wearing consumer advocate there would be NO way I could miss you as much as the Amanda who made fun of crusading, ironic t-shirt wearing consumer advocates -- with you chiming in on their hummus breath and chuck taylors (bought at TARGET!!) between puffs as we walked through your neighborhood full of nonprofit employers. But of course, the hypocrisy was so rich only you would appreciate it -- and the dysfunction so thick and familial familiar that only you could recognize it -- that every time I stepped outside for a breath of holier-than-thou free air, I stepped right onto your Connecticut Ave. Where I promptly looked up and down the street for your swagger. So onward -- and upward, huh? Why not go completely S & M professionally and take a job that I know the editors tried to lure you into taking a few years ago. Only you refused because you're smarter and working at the Business Journal was good and was only getting better (of course, working at the business journal was better -- you were still at the business journal so it was better! Duh). That high wire act was the worst. If ever I needed a hug, slutty-dance second or to make an inappropriate comment about a coworkers man boobs on the elevator down to CVS -- or hell just an eyelash bat from the dark-eyed pharmacist there, it was at that job. It wasn't even worth the one Tracy Ullman sighting it got me -- really John. And I'm not just name dropping. Well I am, but really you're being dead ruined my big Circus with the Stars night too. My correspondence on the correspondents, as droll as I tried to make it, seemed to missing a key audience member -- I mean, c'mon: The color contrast in Jenny McCarthy's alabaster boob and her orange back-makeuped skin is something you could better describe than me. So, now I'm back at the job I had before I even knew you. The job is good. But, really all I can think is: How did I ever survive without a friend like John in my life? Close
Unfinished/ Luis
Sudden endless spiral fall into abysmal darkness Only chaos and Pandemonium reigns Colossal towering cliffs and the darkest sea above When muted, sinister rapture darkness brought It’s only glimmer a dissipating now unreachable flame Gathering the bruised severed pieces of what we once were to be once again whole Unwilling stringed puppets of mighty forces, battle of will faith and destiny Torturous insatiable flesh eating monster with eternal appetite our guardian Should we climb the steep, jagged sharp walls? Stripped of all hope dragging an armor of despair? Confront our foe with mighty resignation or innocently and willingly give ourselves to thee again? What’s ahead we do not know for our destiny to us is uncertain What is now is better than the unknown not what was Have we not fought every battle with honor and valor? In return rewarded by being sentenced to this present misery, this immortal death Unknown inherited sin worthy of His merciful and cruel wrath Could there have been a more tolerable punishment? Who could orchestrate such sadistic revenge? For my sin is unknown For what purpose, if not for the complete obliteration of the human soul? Evolving…deceiving…fleecing promises Which one is just? Alone warrior among an enormous army Solitary journey bearing impaled bleeding opened scars of battles With every step deepens the pain while new ones ripped through the soared skin Blinded with eye lids sown shut Slowly marching through darkness, to our certain destiny carrying our cross Coward victor, face our blades of agony our only sword Gather your forces strong for that triumphant night shall come When the fainting over the mighty shall conquer thee with love We will fight until death and surrender to a battle already lost, a victory already known Until then we hold forward, nursing our wounds and heavy souls Enduring defiant eternal death for your amusement until by your mercy reborn For what must we surrender but our own? Nothing is ours to give but only to be judged Close
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