This year I will share a few of the thoughts that John's friend Matt Recksieck wrote after John's death in April 2004:
"...I knew John in several different contexts, but there was always a cool enthusiasm about him. He really loved his family. He showed pride over his brother and sisters like I think only a first born can--having seen each and everyone of them come home from the hospital as infants.
I didn't meet John until a couple of weeks before his 13th birthday. I met and first knew him through surfing. Then school...then his home life...then through the forming of his own family. But it was always his passion and intellectual curiosity that drew me toward him. And like all friendships, it's hard to pin-point all the reasons why. To some surfing is simply a youthful outlet. In fact, I imagine that it is really boring for them--those not actually afflicted with the surfing disease--to listen to surfers talk about it. To me, however, one of the major afflictions associated with surfing is that it leads to a passion for style, self-discovery, and poetry. John Hardy was a surfer along with everything else he was. Surfing at its best leads to concentration in the moment. Poetry is nothing more than this. John was very good at picking up on this. It was something I admired about him. He blew my mind away at times. It's a love we shared. John's never ending quest to be inspired, stoked, or awed dominated his approach to life. He had the intelligence to be able to discipline himself in this regard. He also had the passion to be able to pull it off. John was a very successful poet...
John's brother Jimmy, at the memorial service, briefly mentioned John's first attempt to glass a surfboard in their backyard playroom shed. Jimmy made the comment that it wasn't very good by professional standards, but that the passion that was put into it was second to none. I concur, but there was another thing we use to laugh about in connection to this. John made a gesture of pointing out to us that there were parts of his glass job that were perfect. He took the thumb and forefinger of his hands, and joined them together to make a square. He placed the box created by his hands over a section of the glass job that was very clean, and said look, "perfection". This was an outlook of John's that I try to keep with me in my life perception today. There is perfection...you just have to look for it...you have to look away from peering directly at, that which isn't. Eventually things come into focus-even that which might not be perfect, can become perfect. This is the philosophical statement that epitomizes John's take on life to me.
At the memorial service, John's secret surf spot, Bathtub Rock, was mentioned several times. (I'll let out the secret completely out of the bag if you want to go: it's at the end of the beach trail of Torrey Pines State Park.) All John's surfing buddies knew it wasn't a very good surf spot, but did we believe it wasn't perfect: "no". John made it that way, and so we believed him. Feel free to go down there yourself (even if you don't surf...in fact, it's probably actually better if you don't). I think you can experience the place's beauty if you knew John. It's not the most beautiful stretch of beach you have ever seen either. But if you go down there and begin listening to the hype in John's voice 'concerting' (a verb I feel John could appreciate) the place, you may begin to believe yourself, that it is a beautiful secret spot--bordering on "perfection". That's the way John worked you into believing. There was no trick involved. It was only a treat to be experienced...
For what it's worth, John's memorial service truly was one of the first services I've ever been to where I believe that I celebrated a life more than I felt lousy at it."
Thanks Matt, for sharing so many beautiful thoughts about the John you knew. I will have to share more another time.
No comments:
Post a Comment