I enjoyed Father John’s friendship for over 30 years. He told me once his eyes were “Presbyterian”. Nope, I told him I was the only Presbyterian in the car; his eyes were nearsighted. You guessed it. The word for near-sighted in French is presbytere. We both laughed.
That’s what I remember most about my friend… the laughter. We met in a hotel elevator in Casablanca years ago. He was fuming. Seems his son, Ken, had let the dog escape or something equally heinous, and he needed to vent. As we all know, John loved to be in charge and here was a situation he couldn’t control. He calmed down, we sat together for dinner, laughed, told stories (many about Ken, but all good) and the dye was cast. He used to tell his friends: “You know how you give people your address on a trip and invite them to visit, but you never expect them to come. She came and she keeps coming!” I even had a tile painted for him saying:“Su casa es mi casa”, which he showed off with great laughter any time I was there with dinner guests.
I visited in Solana Beach often and John actually even made it to NY a couple of times. Obviously our friendship was just that, friendship. But his parishioners would see me in town, in church or at a church function and try to figure out how I fit into the equation. John loved the mystery and forbade me to explain it. I was the mysterious lady at his 25th jubilee or at a couple of the Esperanza galas in Tijuana. In fact, the last time I visited we discussed whether I should come for his 50th. He was now singing a new tune: “I don’t know whether that’s a good idea. You’re kind of hard to explain.” Where did this John come from???? I laughed and told him he was getting old!
He was a great traveler. India was his first big adventure with my travel group. He came along with Fr. Ricardo Chinchilla. Several years later He and Fr. Bill Rowland asked me to organize a trip to China for their congregations. More explaining. We all had a ball together. For all his control instincts, he was always great fun to travel with. He was quick-witted and laughed a lot, which always added to a good group dynamic.
I loved how flexible he was and accepting. I loved how open he was to other cultures, new experiences, new people, new tastes. He could make everyone feel comfortable and at ease… even the only non-Catholic on that China trip. I laughed. Come Sunday and guess whom he tasked with setting up a room for mass before we started our day off. Thanks, John. Try to explain to Chinese with their halting English that you wanted a conference room for an hour at 7:00 AM, 23 chairs and only one glass of red wine. John just watched with twinkling eyes rather than jumping in and helping.
It wasn’t all laughter. We had a lot of good, philosophical conversations, many reaching late into the evening. He was never one to insist that his way was the only way. He never looked down on anyone. No matter who you were, John always listened with an open mind, met you where you were, and discussed all kinds of things openly without prejudice. He listened. I remember often going to mass with him and hearing part of a conversation the evening before woven into his homily. Of course there were the times when he told me “You don’t really have to go tomorrow.” That meant he wasn’t as happy with his homily as he could have been. Laughter. But he’d come home with a smile. He’d improvise and it would be perfect! He was a very good speaker.
Apropos church, I had a friend with me one day and John took us to St. James to show her the church. I pointed out that the ceiling was in the shape of a shell reminiscent of Santiago de Compostela, therefore symbolic of St. James. I thought John’s jaw would fall on the floor. All those years and he’d never noticed it! Again, we laughed and he proudly announced a week or so later that he had worked that nugget of information into his next homily.
He was a very good, decent human being who loved life, loved good food, and loved people. He’ll be missed by many.
Jessie McGuire
