I should point out, lest I forget, that the Bloodliners and Campers were represented at the service by Jorgenson, Art and Jean Faller, Dave "Dave," Jay Hovdey and legendary jockey wife Julie Krone, and--a special surprise--Kristen Nielsen with her new husband and sister. (Her husband is new; not her sister.) I hope I'm remembering everyone, though I'm sure I'm not. There were a few Bloodliners mentioned that night that caused Buffy to say "oh, we forgot to invite ...." and some I know were invited who could not or could not bring themselves to attend.
Other notables spotted in the crowd included Joey Harris, John's old lead guitar player, and drummer Dennis Kenmore. Jay Hovdey said he saw astronaut Scott Carpenter in attendance, though I didn't see him. But I was so revved up and weirded out by the whole affair that Yuri Gargarin and Captain Video could have been there, in full uniform, and I wouldn't have noticed. I just recall now how hard the leave-taking was.
The last call for the guy who used to say "I'm not good at goodbyes," was a tough farewell. I figured, beating the Alzheimer's condemnation that awaited him, that he got out of town a step ahead of the sheriff. And that it all ended like a Lone Ranger episode. Where at the end, when everybody wanted to thank the hero for what he had done for them, what he had given ... he was nowhere to be found, but instead was seen at the far end of town, waving goodbye ... remember, "where IS that masked man?" ... and pulling his horse up for one final glorious kick salute ... and that last "hi-yo Silver!" ... he waved his hat ... and suddenly, impossibly ... was gone.
The most "with us" man of our time was gone. And as you can imagine, his final encore--like everything else over the past couple weeks--was a surreal affair. I can't remember much of what I said when it was my turn to speak. I know I SHOULD have said that he was certainly the coolest guy I ever met, really the coolest guy in the world. I should have said that he leaves a footprint bigger than the church. I should have said that in his leaving he takes the color out of my world, leaving me with only whites and browns to paint with in my remaining years. I tried to drink myself into some kind of forgetfulness at the Coronado bar, but since my illness I can't drink worth a damn anymore. I can't send myself into the kind of oblivion one needs to cope with the loss of John Coburn Stewart. (I was about to write "with the loss of someone like John Coburn Stewart" ... but, as we all know, there just AIN'T nobody, nowhere, that's ever been LIKE John C. Stewart.) And, besides, there ain't enough booze in the world to compensate for a loss like this; or to force a respite from the pain.
As with many of you, per your Bloodlines reports, this hole seems to get deeper as the time goes on. It is not moving towards healing or calm or acceptance. There are times it seems like he left and took the whole world with him. His loss is monstrous. And the facets of his talent and character continue to glow brighter with each passing phase of mourning. Each day brings a painful new reminder of what has been lost. Each day brings a moment when I think "Yow, I have to tell Johnny about THAT!" and the awful empty quick knowledge that follows and says "you CAN'T tell Johnny about that." Each bleak day seems to bring a new sense that he is going to be recognized and lauded for who he was and what he did now, ironically, that he is no longer here to appreciate it; now that he cannot hear the world's acclaim and applause. One just gets that feeling, more and more. That the world will, someday soon, get hip to what it had in John Stewart. It will be a grim acknowledgement for those of us who knew all along.
Johnny would laugh.
And his 'mass card,' handed out at the service, shows a smiling 40ish John, seated in a rocking chair I would guess, smiling broadly and dressed in a jeans shirts. On the reverse are the words to "If You Should Remember Me," atop a final stunning and obscene statement: John Stewart--9/5/39 - 1/19/08.
And come on. If we "should" remember him? If we might, if we happen to, as if we have a choice? As if. And if you want to remember him with a smile, think of that whole congregation, on their feet, singing "Daydream Believer" like it was the last song in the world. With people whooping as always, like in the old days, to music that was made for it. The greatest singer-songwriter lives in that music. He created an energy and a community in his work. Neither will ever die.
And, finally, I should have said this, borrowing from a real writer: "Sheep without shepherd ... when the snow takes the sky ... Why did you leave us, Johnny ... why did you die?"
Tom DeLisle
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