From my cousin, Paul

How strange to write an e-mail to an address whose owner has passed on. How nice to know his loving kin will read it.

My Uncle John had a significant influence on me.

The earliest memories are of a very lively figure, a boisterous tone, ready with a friendly challenge about something…sometimes, anything.

I came to always look forward to seeing John at family get-togethers because of these qualities. He was always ready with a joke, a humorous and counter-independent perspective, a rib or a jibe. He often kept me off balance, in a pleasant and challenging way. To this child, John seemed a different sort of adult.

We played ping pong, it seems like, a lot of ping pong for a period of a few years. He would have trouble moving around but not in beating me. I thought he was better than me, but he claimed it was because I was always talking. His most common remark to me during ping pong was, “SHUT UP!” I know now, of course, that I was constantly talking at that age (has anything changed?) but he was the only adult who ever confronted me about it, and I found it amusing and, again, pleasantly challenging.

My father and his father owned their own business and so by the time I was a teen-ager I was used to independent entrepreneurship. But it was during this period that I realized John made his living almost solo, leading strategic planning sessions. That also seemed remarkable to me at the time, and although there was no intention to emulate, it is ironic that my company today does much of its business the same way. Not emulation then, but perhaps more comfortable making that choice having seen a good example early on. Similarly, his departure from Deloitte made my decision much later to leave Xerox less unusual in my own mind.

Of course, John, Anne and Carolyn were kind enough to take me in upon my return from Africa and give me a chance to start an adult life in the Northwest. I am sure their patience was tried many times but ultimately the graft took and of course there I eventually met Shelia and many happy years have passed. I am forever grateful for their support in getting that start.

If I recall correctly, my last really personal, one on one interaction with John was around 1985 (so long ago!), as I was going through a tough patch. For some reason I can’t recall now, he and I were speaking on the phone. He asked me if I was having fun. I said, “No.” He said, “Good, then you must be learning something.”

At the time, my reaction to that was not positive, tough I kept it to myself. But a few hours later I grudgingly realized that comment was a reason for hope, and I took to figuring out what it was I was learning. Which, of course, was the path out that he sought to illuminate.

Much later, recollection of that comment brings a wry smile and an appreciation for a man who could not only see through the immediate situation to the truth of it but was also unafraid to upbraid you, in a loving way and insightfully for your own good, to bring the real picture to your attention.

All good people have soul, of course. Most people conduct their lives in such a way that the soul is kept in the background, on duty as a guide and a lens, but kept out of the trivial day to day dealings of life. A few people, however, have their soul in their driver’s seat. John was a such a person, and he was authentic to his soul every time I dealt with him.

I will miss John, but I am quite confident he continues in Heaven, playing ping pong with someone who needs a life lesson, saying to them, “Shut Up!” in a way that also makes them laugh.