A Flood Of Sunshine

Yesterday I was researching Japanese cartoons at work and thought about who I might know with some knowledge of the subject. The first person I thought of was Jon Johnson, an old friend who had a fascination for Japanese pop culture. If ever there was someone who could throw himself at a subject like a bullet train and come out on the other side sounding like an expert, Jon was the man. I wrote him with my question and didn't hear back. Strange, since Jon always was quick with a thoughtful, often funny reply. I never heard back.

Later last night I did hear from a mutual bass-playing friend, Chris. His note was brief and sad: Jon had passed away a few days ago at the too-young age of 43. I responded that I was speechless, and 24 hours later I'm still trying to find words to fit what I'm feeling. I have a few definites: I miss you; this is wrong; goodbye.

Jon taught me how to play bass. I think I was 15 or 16 when my parents signed me up for lessons with him and I have vivid memories of not liking the first few lessons. The bass is not a difficult instrument to play, but it is difficult to play well. Jon wanted his students to play well and pushed me to dig into the subject as if it was as important as English or geometry (and, in retrospect, I now know the bass is far more important than geometry). Sometimes I think about why, after graduating and moving away from home, I never switched instruments to something flashier like guitar or more cathartic like drums. Maybe the best lesson Jon taught was (in the voice of Mel Brooks) it's *good* to be the bassist.

Twenty years after first meeting Jon I'm much the same person inside as that shy, awkward teen who liked Rush way too much. I think it was my junior year in high school that Jon offered me a job in the local record store. This was a big step up from stocking the beer cooler at the convenience store. I think, a la High Fidelity, Jon just got tired of me hanging out in the store all the time and figured I'd probably work there for free if he'd asked. Which I would have. It wasn't a great record store by any means, but there were great people there (as an aside, Philip Price also spent time behind the counter). Jon took a chance on a kid with no retail experience and a Rush fixation. I ended up working there for over six years. He had a great talent of seeing the good in the underdogs.

Also like High Fidelity, Jon was the John Cusack character, with an encyclopedic knowledge of music and pop culture. He taught me to be opinionated, but to also appreciate music of all styles (except maybe jam bands). Three of his favorite bands are still mine too: the Posies, Jellyfish and Teenage Fanclub. In the store we listened to Funkadelic, Nick Drake and Motorhead back-to-back without blinking an eyelid. Maybe not groundbreaking in Manhattan, but somewhat groundbreaking in Southern New Hampshire.

Jon sheparded me through some uncomfortable teenage years like an older brother and I've often thought of him whenever I've had a Big Life Decision to make. His advice was always careful and kind-hearted, if sometimes difficult to hear. Over the past year I had been hearing of his travels to Japan and his fondness for a woman named Izumi. She seems extremely sweet and there was some Romeo & Juliet to their romance. It was one of the first times in my life that I felt like I actually had advice for him, which he seemed to appreciate. It was the least I could offer after everything he has given me.

I have nothing but sympathy and sadness for his family. I wish all the best to his bands in Boston, his new friends in Japan and my bass-playing brothers who Jon helped teach. You are a fine gentleman, Jon, and will be missed like crazy.

Take care up there.