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10-12-2003 - 10:22 a.m.
My Uncle John John died while we were in San Francisco. No one in the family let us know because they didn�t want to spoil our vacation. He was cremated the same day. The family had a memorial service yesterday in St Louis. A short little service in a chapel and then good food, good alcohol and funny John stories around the table in the best restaurant in St Louis. He would have liked that. John was a First Class guy in a Coach world. If I have a lick of social skill or worldly grace, I learned it from John. John was the first of the pink sheep in our family and he helped pave the way for his queer great nephew. He always gave the best birthday presents. The cousins teased me yesterday about how I was his favorite. �No� I said �Ray was his favorite.� John knew a hot guy when he saw one. He also knew about opera and which wine went with what. He knew how to tip to get the best table. He knew antiques from junk. He bred and showed dogs, but thought 'Best in Show' was the funniest movie ever. He flirted outrageously with everyone. He had such a wonderful singing voice that when he sang 'The Star Spangled Banner' at the Cardinals game, folks would yell 'Bravo' He wanted a career in opera, but never got out of the chorus. John liked to travel; Italy for the art. Jamaica for the sun. New York for the shows. Several years ago, I had to have a serious eye surgery in St Louis. Afterwards, I was flat on my back for 5 days with my head sandbagged. John turned my recovery process into a party. Huge catered dinners every night for the family and the staff. All the cocktails he could sneak in. Then he would read to me �Great Expectations� by Dickens. He had different voices for all the characters. It was hard for any of us to be sad that John is gone. It was a good, adventurous life. John was 87 and was fighting bladder and throat cancer. Throat cancer is a bitch. The radiation wrecks your salivary glands and frankly, without spit, it�s impossible to eat. He wouldn�t want us to cry. What he would want is for you to enjoy a little of the good scotch over 3 ice cubes in a Waterford tumble and to give a toast to his memory. Here's to you, Uncle John
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