Some of my fondest memories dates back to the early 2000s when a group of friends and I embarked on a journey to establish our own publishing company. Little did we know that this endeavor would eventually transform into a thriving publishing house. During that time, a subtle change started to occur, and I noticed Johnny's first signs of struggling with alcohol, although it wasn't as profound as it would become in later years.

The city we called home was undergoing significant transformations, largely driven by technology. Sadly, this meant that beloved music stores and bookshops were closing their doors, leaving a void in our community. But despite the changes surrounding us, Johnny and I remained rooted in our neighborhood of Washington Heights.

As life continued to unfold, a new chapter began when my best friend, Jacki, moved in with us. Our humble abode transformed into a place of warmth and togetherness, as we created a unique bond resembling that of a chosen family. We shared family meals and celebrated joyous occasions, forging cherished memories along the way.

However, it was during this time that Johnny's struggle with alcohol started to escalate. Recognizing the severity of the situation, he made the brave decision to attend his first Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting. It was a significant step towards addressing his addiction and seeking the support he needed.

Although the road to recovery was arduous, Johnny's determination eventually led him to choose sobriety. He became deeply involved in the AA community, drawing strength from the fellowship and support he found there. Inspired by his own journey, Johnny pursued a career as a Care Manager, dedicating his time and efforts to helping others battling addiction.

Looking back, this memory reminds me of the power of friendship, resilience, and the capacity for personal growth. It illustrates the transformative potential that lies within each of us and highlights the importance of compassion and support in times of hardship. Johnny's journey serves as a testament to the triumph of the human spirit and the ability to find purpose and meaning even in the face of adversity.

One of my most cherished memories takes me back to the early 1990s, during my time living in New York City. It was a period of discovery and excitement, and amidst the bustling metropolis, an unexpected reunion awaited me. Johnny, accompanied by his friend Matt, reached out and asked if they could stay with me before embarking on their journey to Prague. I welcomed them with open arms, never realizing the profound impact this would have on my life.

During Johnny's stay, we resumed our correspondence, relying on letters and occasional phone calls in a time before email became prevalent. As we caught up on our respective experiences, dreams, and aspirations, I became captivated by his stories and insights. We would spend hours conversing, immersing ourselves in a shared love for literature and film. Johnny's passion for the written word and the silver screen mirrored my own, and our connection deepened with every conversation.

As time went on, Johnny expressed his desire to return to the States, seeking guidance and a temporary haven to navigate the uncertainties that lay ahead. He turned to me, asking if he could stay with me until he found his footing. Without hesitation, I opened my home and my heart to him, eager to support him in any way I could.

Our bond grew stronger with each passing day, and by August of 1995, we realized that our affection for one another had blossomed into something more profound. We acknowledged the undeniable truth: we were besotted, deeply in love. Johnny and I became a couple, intertwining our lives and embarking on a new chapter together.

During this vibrant period, our living situation was shared with two remarkable women, Yuko and Haru. Together, we formed a household that exuded warmth and creativity. We welcomed a myriad of Johnny's friends from Prague, such as Louis and Giovanni, who quickly became cherished members of our extended family. Lifelong connections were forged, including Patty and Tywe, as well as friends from our North Carolina days, Matt and Alex. The synergy within our social circle was electrifying, and our shared experiences brought us immeasurable joy.

New York City itself was a flourishing backdrop to our lives, pulsating with energy and opportunities. The streets were lined with captivating bookstores, enticing music stores, and thought-provoking art shows. Off-Broadway performances, mesmerizing concerts, and the vibrant atmosphere of bars added to the tapestry of our existence. The city became a canvas upon which we painted memories that would last a lifetime.

Looking back, those years spent together hold a special place in my heart. They were marked by the intoxicating blend of love, creativity, and the vibrant pulse of New York City. The cherished friendships we cultivated, the intellectual discussions we engaged in, and the thrilling experiences we shared created a tapestry of happiness and fulfillment that will forever define that chapter of our lives.

I have many fond memories from my early years in Cary, North Carolina, particularly the time I first met Johnny in the early 1980s. Back then, I was working at the public library, surrounded by books and eager readers. Johnny, a vibrant young patron, caught my attention one day as he strolled into the library with his larger-than-life skateboard. His bleached-white hair and Black Sabbath tees made him stand out from the crowd.

Despite his youthful appearance, Johnny possessed a literary taste far beyond his years. Each time he came to the library, he would check out an array of books, always fiction and literature. What struck me most was his fondness for classic authors like Dostoevsky, Dumas, Henry Miller, Sartre, and Virginia Woolf. It was refreshing to see someone his age diving into the depths of such profound works.

As life often does, it eventually took me away from the library and led me to the tranquil North Carolina Mountains. Regrettably, that meant leaving behind the memory of Johnny. However, fate had other plans in store for us.

In the late 1980s, I found myself back in Raleigh, working as a Desk Supervisor at the NCSU Libraries. It was during this time that I met a colleague named Todd, who happened to have a group of friends studying at NCSU. Little did I know that one of those friends would turn out to be Johnny himself.

When Johnny visited Todd, I recognized him immediately, though he had no recollection of our previous encounter. We reminisced about his insatiable reading habits, and our conversations often led us to Mitch's Tavern, a place known for its connection to the famous movie Bull Durham. Within the walls of that cozy establishment, we would delve deep into discussions about literature and music, forging a bond that transcended mere acquaintanceship.

While our tastes in literature aligned splendidly, our musical preferences diverged. Nonetheless, we fostered a genuine friendship, occasionally venturing out on casual dates that never evolved into anything more serious. Eventually, life once again beckoned me elsewhere, this time to the bustling city of New York.

As the years passed, I often found myself reminiscing about those days spent in the company of Johnny, discussing our beloved books and sharing moments of intellectual curiosity. Though our paths diverged once more, the memory of our friendship remained etched in my heart, reminding me of the unique connections we can forge through literature and the unassuming beauty of chance encounters.

And so, whenever I think back to the early 1980s in Cary, North Carolina, and the time I first met Johnny, I am filled with nostalgia and gratitude for the fond memories we created together.

I first met Jonny in 1986 –I can’t remember the exact date. I had started college at N.C. State University and was going through a rough period of my life –my parents had separated three years earlier and I was navigating a new world of adult life alone. In my lonliness, I reached out to my high school friend Marty, who introduced me to a wonderful group of young people (I was the oldest at 20).

Of course, Johnny was a key member and star of this group –providing the best ideas for conversation, outings, and parties, and diplomatic compromises for the worst ones. Within a year, Johnny would also enroll at N.C. State, and our friendship grew. His counsel became invaluable for me. He majored in English while I was in Engineering, but our deep intellectual interests were similar. We both loved Philosophy, History, Sociology, and of course –Music. Oh, did we love music. Johnny showed me what I child I was in this regard. In 1986, I was listening to Led Zeppelin, Rush, and many of the eighties bands which were popular at the time.

Johnny turned me on to David Bowie, The Ramones, Lou Reed (and the Velvet Underground), Souxsie and the Banshees, Iggie Pop, Violent Femmes, the Fugs, The Cramps, Captain Beefheart, Robyn Hitchcock, 7 Seconds, and countless others. In other words, he educated me in what music could be for a young man. I still like Led Zeppelin, but they occupy a small corner of my musical theater (Rush didn’t survive this awakening). I cherish what he taught me. In the eighties and nineties, the way we shared music took a little more effort than today: We made each other mixed tapes. Music cost more back then (adjusted for infation) so the making and gifting of mxed tapes went both ways. He may have turned me on to the Fugs, but I bought the box set, recorded it, and sent him a cassette tape. With the arrival of the Internet and Youtube, this process was no longer necessary and sharing music became effortless. Now, we could simply send one another (free) links to music or news articles we thought the other might be interested in. This process continued until just this year.

Needless to say: Johnny was brilliant, and his genuine interest (and formal study) of Philsophy made him the only person I could turn to for long discussions of the deepest questions of the day. For many, such discussions mark a period of youthfull college indulgence, but it was much more than that for us. On more than one occasion, we spent an entire evening (litterally stopping only when the Sun came up) connecting recent news events to something we read by Chomsky or Orwell. Johnny’s brilliance wasn’t limited to Philosophy and word puzzles either. He was the only non-scientist I ever knew who could give a correct account of mirror symmetry (why mirros flip left and right, but not up and down. This was especially impressive in the era before the Internet. Today, you can casually view an expert account on Youtube). We were both outsiders, becoming adults on our own terms without the strong and constant support of family. We formed a surrogate family (Johhnny, me, and the close friends we both had recently made) and grew to count on one-another in times of need.

I was planning to visit Johnny in September when I got the devastating news. He never complained of any hardships or difficulties, but I caught a vague sense of urgency when he innocently suggested we should see one another soon. I wish it could have been sooner.

My last one-on-one conversation with Johnny was only a few days ago.  He came to my room to talk with me, but I was on the phone.  After about an hour, I went to Johnny's room to check in.  I sat on his bed and reached for his hand.  He said, "I just want to make sure that you and I are good.  You seem so grumpy and there should not be problems between us."  I said, "Of course I'm grumpy!  I am hot flashy and menopausal!  I am in a constant state of grumpy.  It has nothing to do with you."  We laughed together and he suggested that I might find some comfort from a Tom Robbins novel.  You see, Johnny and I have talked many times over the years about the delightful, absurd, freak-show quality of the characters in Tom Robbins' novels.  We shared a sense of comfort and familiarity with characters who did not fit into mainstream worlds.  If you know, you know.  

And in that moment, my wonderful, quirky friend Johnny reminded me that I was perfectly at home with those who love me exactly as I am...grumpiness and all.  I hugged him tightly that day.  I had no idea that it would be our last hug.

Click on photos to see the covers of two the books that Johnny and I talked about that day:   Still Life With Woodpecker and (fan favorite) Even Cowgirls Get the Blues.   

Jacki J.