I haven’t written a blog since my best friend John passed away a few weeks ago. It’s hard to find the right words when the silence left behind feels louder than anything I could write. I always considered John to be my best friend, and I tried to be his best friend. There was plenty of competition, though—he treated all his friends as best friends. That was John. He didn’t ration affection. He didn’t play favorites. He made you feel like the center of the room, even when the room was full. And somehow, you believed it—because with John, it was true.
John lived in Long Beach, Long Island with his wife Margaret. In a twist worthy of a song lyric, he met his wife Margaret one night while we were out celebrating my birthday. They raised three remarkable children—Eileen, Andrea, and Johnny—each carrying forward a piece of his spirit. Eileen, who illustrated my children’s book, lives upstate with her husband Christopher and their two children, Jack and Nora. Andrea is a scientist, married to Mark, and together they’re devoted Phish fans. Johnny works behind the scenes on television stages and at Lincoln Center, a quiet craftsman in the world of performance.
John and I met in 1971 at the N.Y. Telephone Co. We bonded over music, mischief, and the kind of friendship that doesn’t need explaining. We played on the same Telephone Company softball team, The Newtown Suns. He loved Family and Friends, Baseball, Music, and Long Beach. One year, Eileen gave him a birthday gift that lit him up—a guest DJ spot on a radio station in Woodstock, NY. That was one of his best days. He was in his element, spinning tracks and stories like he’d been born for it.
We had plenty of great times together. I went to all his parties, and after I moved to Lancaster, he came out here a few times a year to cheer on the Lancaster Barnstormers with me.
I have dozens of CDs he made for me. I can listen to them and think about him, but nothing can replace him. John loved Baseball, especially the Yankees. So, now that he joins Willie, Mickey, and the Duke in a Field of Dreams somewhere, I’ll play this song for him.
Willie, Mickey, and the Duke (Talkin’ Baseball)
He was just a very special person. I was lucky enough to know him and party with him for more than 50 years.
Peace & Love, and all of the above,
Earl
earlthepearl137 
So sorry for your loss. John must have been a great friend for the two of you for more than 50 years. He’ll be missed but will always be in your heart.
Thanks, Patrice. They are going to have a memorial service for him in April, and we’ll spread his ashes in the water at Long Beach. I hope to see you and the Country crowd when I’m in town.
my heart will be with you but we come home from Florida till first week in May. Love you!
I’m so sorry for the loss of your good friend. May cherished memories bring you some comfort.
Thanks. You know that in 54 years I’ve gathered innumerable cherished memories of John. I’ll have to tell some of them on my blog occasionally.
That sounds like a good idea. I’d love to hear some.
So sorry for your loss, Earl. Hope you find comfort in happy memories of your friend.
Thanks. There are plenty of memories, just about one for every song he played.
I’m very sorry for your loss, Earl. Thank you for sharing this with us, the pain and the joyful memories… you were both so lucky to have found each other, to have a friendship like this.
Thanks. We were very lucky, and I’m glad we created so many moments to remember.
Peace and love to you and him. M
Thanks. The musical neurons will be at work.
Such a sweet tribute to your dear friend, John. I’m sorry for your loss, but your memories will keep always dear and near.
Thanks. The memories will keep him alive in my heart and head.
Earl, what a beautiful memorial you’ve written for your friend. John sounds like one in a million – no wonder you’ve struggled to write since his death.
While not jewish myself, I’ve always loved their wish: “may his memory be a blessing to you”. Take care Earl, it’s not easy when it comes time to grieve for a best friend.
I keep thinking of a line spoke by Dr. Zorba on the old Ben Casey program decades ago. “When we are born, we are crying while those around us are smiling that when we die, we may be smiling because those around us are crying.”
Thinking of you
Thank you.