For those of you who don’t know me, I am Jim McCulloch. This is my wife, Emil. We were neighbors of Jon’s and Sarah’s and the kids and we moved away about 18 months ago to Northern California. We were, however, much more than neighbors: we ate together, played together, watched each other’s kids, occasionally traveled together, and most importantly, lawn tractor raced together. So, as I talk about Jon and laugh a little, I want you to know we were close and I don’t take this lightly. However, I think Jon would want us all to lighten up – I know for certain that he would want me to.
When I think of Jon I smile. And I always have. A good part of our relationship was centered around humor. He and I, well mostly I, gave each other a lot of crap. The normal rule for us was that I would insult him and then Jon would fire back with the perfect retort – usually about 2 days later. It was always very good natured and I think he really enjoyed our bantering, but he was a bit handicapped by his good nature.
Jon was, above all other things, his own man. He didn’t fit any molds – at least the ones I know. He was an Ivy-league educated engineer without a hint of pretense who liked to work on lawn tractors in his spare time. I loved that about him. I’m sure Sarah loved it too, but I can attest that she was ready to sock Jon in the nose after the third lawn tractor arrived.
I think he was very comfortable in his own skin. He knew who he was, who he wasn’t and didn’t really care what you thought about him. I think because he was so comfortable with who he was that one of his great gifts is that he listened to you, and he asked about you, and had no agenda or work worries or angst to clutter his brain when he was talking to you. He really listened and so few people have that skill.
I found him to be very insightful about a lot of different things. Certainly never loud, but insightful and smart. He had that wry smile which seems to be the image of him that is sticking in my head the most. I wouldn’t say he was outgoing, but he wasn’t shy at all either, you know what I mean? And although he wasn’t terribly effusive, he was one of the best natured people that I have known.
To this day, I have never heard a bad word said about him. But when I think about it, he never had a bad word to say about anyone – other than me to my face. I must have told Emil 50 times, “I just love that guy”. Emil did too.
We both enjoyed working with our hands – he with cars and machinery, me with wood and building things. I think it was our bond. We rarely, I mean rarely, ever talked work. It was and is of secondary interest to me, and he most assuredly felt the same way. What was important to him was what you could do with your hands and what you could build or make – he was kind of old school that way.
It was a great comfort for me to have someone like Jon living down the street. He was solid. My wife could call him for help when I was out of town, and I knew he was there if and when we needed anything. Not that he and I asked each other for that much help as we both liked to complete our own projects, it was part of the satisfaction to get it done yourself. However, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him and his family and I know the reverse was true.
As you probably know, he was a world-class packrat and had a huge collection of what most would consider crap. He, on the other hand, would consider it to be something of value that he bought cheap, fixed up, and was then in perfect working order. He could look at one of tractors running and take pride in the fact that he made it run. He could be reminded of it over and over every time he started it. For him it was satisfaction I think. Zen and the art of anything with a motor maintenance. Going and buying something new had about as much appeal to him as a root canal. However, finding a diamond in the rough was hugely satisfying for him.
I also appreciated his, and Sarah’s for that matter, exact knowledge of my character. Friends that know you and can be brutally honest with you are true friends indeed. He knew that I am fairly uptight, fairly anal, and somewhat claustrophobic. He could always tell how I would be feeling about a particular situation (usually one with too many people in too small a space) and would look at me and laugh or smile or say something to me about it. I loved that. With Jon, I could be my good self or my idiot self, or anything in between, with no airs or filters or worry that I was going to offend him.
On to memories… Some of my fondest memories are as follows and in no particular order. I hope they are as amusing for you as they are for me, Sarah, and Emil, but I fear that without the nuances of our relationship as background you might not appreciate them as much as I do. Anyway, here goes:
Jack coming over to talk to me while I was building things. Jack would just prattle on about this and that (after he asked for a turkey sandwich, of course) and then after a couple of hours, Jon would come over and see what was going on. He might stay over a while and chat or have a beer, or I might go over to his house and see what he was working on. Some flavor of this happened nearly every weekend that it wasn’t raining.
I just might walk down to see what he was doing or working on. Maybe have a beer and chat with he and Sarah, maybe say hi to the kids, maybe just go back home.
Offering to get him a volume discount on cinder blocks for all of the tractors/cars he had in his yard. Cheaper by the pallet. This became a standard running joke.
Due to his penchant for junk, I combined the names Markowitz and Clampett to come up with Clampowitz. Remember the Clampett’s from the Beverly Hillbillies? I thought I was so clever when I told him this, and he just looked at me and shook his head – I don’t know for sure that he thought it was funny, but I gotta think he did. There is no way, however, that he wanted me to know that.
He would try to get mad at me sometimes if I was teasing him or teasing Sarah or teasing my wife, but he just couldn’t. He tried, but he couldn’t help but laugh. He said it was hard to be mad at someone who is so damn funny. If you know me, then you will know that I think that is potentially the best compliment anybody has ever given me.
The naps he took every weekend with his kids. I love the thought of him and the kids sacked out on the couch. It might just be my very best memory of Jon.
Lawn tractor races on Springwood Avenue. He, of course, won. He had the $5 tractor and I had the $4 tractor.
Me telling his kids to go ask their dad why their tree house wasn’t finished yet. He immediately knew that I had put them up to it and said, Thanks Jim.
There are many others, but you all might not appreciate them as much as I do.
I wish I could call him like I did about 4 months ago and say, Dude, I’m going to be in the city tonight – can you meet me for dinner? We had a great dinner, a fair amount of alcohol, our normal conversations, and we picked up right where we left off.
Jon was just a great, great guy and a big presence, someone I thought of fairly often and someone I will miss. Losing a close friend is in many ways worse that losing a family member. Friends like Jon and Sarah, for me, are/were the family we make for ourselves. .
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