Hi Mary Ellen I am so sorry for your loss! It has been a long time since I have had the opportunity to see John, Caleb and Ellie! My sister MaryBeth sent a picture of your family and that John had passed! The grieving process not an easy one as I lost my youngest son Jason (40yrs old) recently but thank God for the memories! It sounds like you and John and family have wonderful memories that you shared!💕Kathy Schreiner-Smith!

John's smile is indelibly printed on my heart.

His enthusiasm for  each student's poem when I came to work at Full Circle lingers on and on.

His support of our ritual Poetry/Bookmaking workshops-- sharing with other students what unfolds when reverence is practiced each and every moment -- is a mirror of what John practiced.

Ellie and Caleb's participation in The Poetry Studio's summer program that combined Poetry/Bookmaking and Nature left rich memories of their appreciation of "slow time" where they could write in the gardens; paint a favorite flower and make a beautiful handmade book to hold their gems...their memories of Marlboro, Vermont.

When Milo called to tell me about the loss of John, I was in shock..speechless. Unfortunately, both Tony's and my emails have not been working until two days ago.  Otherwise , we would have written our condolences sooner.

Unfortunately, I have come down with a  terrible cold ; so we are grateful for the virtual witnessing of what I imagine will be both a heartbreaking and a heartfelt occasion.

Ellie, I will never forget how you and Aashna  years back joined Tony  and me and Chard deNiord, former poet laureate of Vermont, at  The Bennington  Museum for the sharing of our book "Another World: Poetry and Art by Young People from The Poetry Studio."  I remember how Chard lured you into sharing your memories of the Studio and how poignant and eloquent your words were.

Caleb, I remember how you joined us in Marlboro for a summer of creativity; I don't remember how many summers. But I remember your friendship, I believe, with Jon Erik.   My memory has become a sieve, but I have vivid memories of you sitting in the gardens... by the small frog pond.

Both of you will bring into the world so many of your father's gifts; that I am sure of.

Mary Ellen, how do I find language to convey my depth of sorrow for what you must be experiencing! At the same time for John to leave the world, doing something he loved to do reminds me of Mary Oliver's poem, "When Death Comes. " When you have a quiet moment, perhaps you will keep company with the poem.

I also have always loved the book,_tuesdays with morrie,  and the words:

"Death ends a life/not a relationship" come to mind.

I am so very sorry that Tony and I cannot join you Sunday (I have come down with a very bad cold) but we are grateful that you are offering a virtual witnessing of this vital occasion.

Tony and I send healing  love to all of you as you travel this challenging journey,

Ann and Tony  Gengarelly

gengarellya@gmail.com

thepoetrystudiovt.com

My lovely wife, Lizzy and I would like to extend our deepest, most heartfelt condolences to John’s wife, Mary Ellen, his children, Caleb and Ellie and Caleb’s wife, Amy and and his brother’s Todd and Barry.

I was stunned to hear of John’s demise. I was saddened, disappointed, angry, hurt and betrayed, all in a heartbeat. I stopped what I was doing, sat back and cried. My reaction was immediate, profound and fully committed.

I don’t care how we met nor how long we have known each other. We played together. We skied and competed together. We went to high school together. We played soccer together. We laughed often. Our parents and siblings knew each other. We parted ways as we departed for university, and we only struck up our friendship again within the last five years or so. Our reunion over breakfast in Maine was as simple and comfortable as slipping into a bath, a warm embrace followed by a sigh of pleasure.

John was a charmer, a people whisperer, a person with joy and laughter in his voice always ready to spill out for his or other’s amusement. He was empathetic, thoughtful and embracing. I was always appreciative of his sense of adventure and risk tolerance which were legendary. That said, I always felt there was an outsize chance that he would come a cropper. I always thought his motto was, ‘why not’, regardless. Who needed anyone else for company. He was the total package.

Our last derring-do was a mountain bike ride from his friend, Bill’s house in deepest Maine, Waldoboro. I asked John to take it easy on me because I had just completed a 150km, 4000-meter vert ride. John wrote, “Safety is my middle name.” We rode thorough the roads up and then down a fire road. I was ahead and waiting for him as he approached a chain the width of the road. I skittered it while John headed towards it at speed. Having grown-up with John and being a kindred soul, I was looking at him with interest, amusement but growing concern. What did he have in mind – a hop or a jump that I didn’t have in me? In fact, he didn’t see it. His bike stopped, John did not. We got John and his bike in a car and back to Bill’s house where we all headed to our phones to call any doctor friends that we had up and down the eastern seaboard to see what our level of concern should be. We knew what the goal was. Safety first while skirting the annoyance of truncating our pleasure and ruining our day by going to the hospital. That was our life’s risk mitigation. Shortly thereafter in an e-mail following up to close the loop on some of the things we discussed that day, he wrote, “It was great to reconnect a few weeks ago in Maine, even if I did nearly kill myself. Oh well live and learn. From now on safety will really be my middle name.” Quietly, I thought, not, and wondered whether he ever made it to Bates to change his daughter’s car tires from winter to summer treads.

I saw John at my parent’s memorials. He said nice things and wrote kind words. He climbed our childhood ski area with my siblings and friends to spread their ashes and he joined us for the celebration of their lives. More recently, unprompted, he offered my son the names of his friends for job advice and a bed to stay in if he was ever in need or wanted to join him for a bit of merriment, mirth and or an adventure. That was John. Always trying to improve the lives of others.

Missing John is something that I will have to live with, we will have to live with, just as we live with the departure of many others. In the near term, I don’t anticipate finding any joy, amusement or gratitude in time well spent in his company. In fact, I feel more bereft than ever at missing his ruckus company and doing the stupid shit that we were planning in the near term. I am sure my body is sighing with relief but my soul is deeply, deeply wounded.

Fare you well, John, fare you well.

There are several things that come to mind when I think of John. His smile, his laugh and how he was always willing to help someone. Everyone!!!

After John grew his beard and we learned of his bike riding we started calling him Mountain Man. 

Avery, Devon, Janet and Jeff send our love and condolences to Mary Ellen, Caleb and Ellie.