Memories of Jon

Memories of Jon

I want to share some stories from a long time ago. Maybe remembering some of those things that make me smile (as most memories of Jonathan do) will help lessen the hurt I feel, and my deep regret I never had a chance to reconnect with Jon other than a phone call or two over these many years.

I'm one of the people from the back woods of Maine, and I knew Jon in high school. We used to hang together, jam together - for a while we were best friends, and there was a time in my life I can't remember a day when we weren't together. My dad is this mime that has been mentioned - Tony, who passed away in 2002. Jon spent a lot of time up at our house - the "barn" - and I stayed out at his house.

I've always been very bad with memory. But I do retain feelings, atmospheres, images. I can never remember where they fit in the scheme of things, but I remember what's essential.

Most images with Jon consist of late night jams, driving about, talking late into the night or clear into the morning. Listening to Kate Bush, wondering if there could possibly be any other woman as perfect as Kate Bush. Wondering if Kate Bush was married. Roxy Music. Talking Heads. John Lurie. English Beat. Down by Law. The uber-ugly yellow Chevette he drove that summer we went to take summer English classes in Auburn (me so I wouldn't have to repeat my senior year, he I think so he could graduate early...) Something about winning a pig? I used to drive him nuts when I spent the night at his house by waiting just until the moment he fell asleep and then poking him.

I think about his guitar. The smell of the faux-fur lining inside. Amps and cables. Flangers and other effects. Picks. Carrot and Yipe-a-Jipe Bumblebee. How when Jon wanted to say thank you, he'd say "Thanks, Bang!" (no recollection why now - I think he just thought it was funny. Which it was.) The blue Falcon convertible he drove later on in California - driving around in that thing under the sun, someone wearing a scarf on her head (was that Charlotte?) as we drove up to Point Reyes lighthouse. The last time I saw him, from the window at Kirkham St, waving him off in his van - heading back east. Figuring I'd see him sooner or later somewhere.

But my life took a series of unexpected detours, and by the time I found my way back, 15 years had passed. But I've always felt close to Jon. He still remains a part who I am. I wish I had told him that.

Jon did remarkable things with his heart. I remember a time when Jon and our friend Mike started getting tight - hanging out more with each other than with me, and one night at the Pizza place in town, they were having private laughs together, not letting me in on it, in that way that all teenagers can do, and I was hurt. And I told them that I felt separated from them - like a new wall had somehow appeared, and I felt like I somehow got on the wrong side of it. Well, Jon saw what I was saying right off, and - bam - the wall was gone. He simply didn't have the capacity to be cruel. The moment he saw I was really suffering, he was right back there with me.

I guess over time more will come back to me. My overall image of Jon is this gigantic heart, and this overriding sense of silliness. A big laughing heart... I wish my heart could feel like laughing right now. It still doesn't. But I'm thankful for Pat and David's spirituality - it gives me some comfort to know that the people who loved Jon can still feel him here. His was the kind of presence that never dissipates.

My deepest love and support is going out to Jon's family and all the friends he's found over the years.

Thank you,
Adam Montanaro