When John moved to Santa Barbara he took a lot of things with him, including his bike. He loved his bike. He eventually came home for a visit, and we all decided to go for a ride. This photo captures the moment that John was given the "guest" bike, when he fully understood what Thomas Wolfe meant when he wrote, "you can't go home again."
From our front yard on Sunset Blvd. we could see this house under construction. It was being built on a very prominent hill above Ronald Reagan's house, and it looked like a castle. John dubbed it Frankenstein's Castle. We went up there once to see if there was any sign of the Monster or of Dr. Frankenstein's lab. We didn't find anything at the site, and John examined the surrounding brush to make sure no one was waiting to throw us into the well or try to steal our brains.
John began lecturing about his personal philosophy from a very early age. Like all great philosophers, he struggled with consistency. One day he was a Randian (his possession of the orange drink was proof of his superiority), while the next he was a Marxist (one day he shot an elephant in his pajamas). What was truly remarkable was his ability to carry on for hours as if talking to an audience who spoke back to him, interweaving the ideas of Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, and Moe Howard to create a seamless garment that gave meaning to his life and purpose to his hours.
