10-23-2018, 08:27 PM
John was a court reporter I met via questions asked and answered on social media, and then by working together at the California Deposition Reporters Association conventions, along with his wife Vickie, who is also a court reporter. John and I shared a similar sense of humor, enjoyed exchanging trash talk about our various sports teams, had the same hatred for inconsiderate people and the same love of furry critters. He had a 200+ pound English Mastiff named James, and I looked forward to hearing John’s hilarious stories about James, especially tales of how their tiny cat would terrorize that poor dog.
One thing I did not share with John was his love of camping and fishing in the wilderness. As he was winding down his court reporting career, he had a huge love of sharing his love for out-of-the-way places with anyone who would go with him. He started an adventure-guide business, and I and other fellow court reporting colleagues would regularly remind him that we didn’t trust him not to get killed on these trips as we knew him as the guy who had superglued his own fingers together, tripped over his own feet while sitting and various other incredibly comic acts of extreme klutziness. We told him it would be difficult to retire from reporting if he got eaten by a bear, and that it would also be very inconvenient for Vickie.
We were kidding, of course.
About four months ago, John planned to do his last Alaskan wilderness adventure and then retire from his adventure guide business and just report part-time, as needed. It was indeed his last trip: he never made it home. We learned from an article in the Sacramento Bee that he was missing. I contacted Vickie and she confirmed that the story was true, that there was an accident on a river, that in rough conditions, their boat had overturned and although his two companions made it to shore, John disappeared. The search went on for quite some time. Even after the authorities gave up and declared him missing; presumed dead, Vickie and the friends John had made in Alaska kept searching. He was never found.
Greg and I will be attending a memorial/celebration of life gathering for John on Saturday. I’ll give Vickie a hug and see a few other reporting colleagues that are able to take time to attend. We won’t stay long — just long enough for me to raise a glass to his memory. He’s been, and will continue to be, missed by all who knew him.
One thing I did not share with John was his love of camping and fishing in the wilderness. As he was winding down his court reporting career, he had a huge love of sharing his love for out-of-the-way places with anyone who would go with him. He started an adventure-guide business, and I and other fellow court reporting colleagues would regularly remind him that we didn’t trust him not to get killed on these trips as we knew him as the guy who had superglued his own fingers together, tripped over his own feet while sitting and various other incredibly comic acts of extreme klutziness. We told him it would be difficult to retire from reporting if he got eaten by a bear, and that it would also be very inconvenient for Vickie.
We were kidding, of course.
About four months ago, John planned to do his last Alaskan wilderness adventure and then retire from his adventure guide business and just report part-time, as needed. It was indeed his last trip: he never made it home. We learned from an article in the Sacramento Bee that he was missing. I contacted Vickie and she confirmed that the story was true, that there was an accident on a river, that in rough conditions, their boat had overturned and although his two companions made it to shore, John disappeared. The search went on for quite some time. Even after the authorities gave up and declared him missing; presumed dead, Vickie and the friends John had made in Alaska kept searching. He was never found.
Greg and I will be attending a memorial/celebration of life gathering for John on Saturday. I’ll give Vickie a hug and see a few other reporting colleagues that are able to take time to attend. We won’t stay long — just long enough for me to raise a glass to his memory. He’s been, and will continue to be, missed by all who knew him.
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
