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3 Entries
Craig Gower
September 26, 2020
I was surprised and saddened to read of the passing of Jonathan, but more interesting is how I discovered it. You see I live in San Carlos, CA about 30 miles south of San Francisco and lost touch with Jonathan back in the early sixties. I am now 71 and read the San Francisco Chronicle nearly every morning. Typically, I glance at the obituaries to see if there is anyone that I may have know. When I saw Jonathan’s picture and name, I thought wow, that’s how my childhood friend might look at the ripe old age of 70. As I began to read the obituary, it stated he was from Fairfield, Connecticut! I instantly knew for sure it was him, my friend from grammar school and I had no idea he lived out here! I too moved to San Francisco in the late seventies to pursue my MA in Broadcast Communications at S.F. State and never returned to Connecticut.
Jonathan and I were good buddies when I was in 3rd and 4th grade if my memory serves me correctly. I remember with fondness, back in the day, writing scripts, selling tickets and putting on puppet shows in his family’s garage on the corner of Barryscott Dr.! I also have a distinct memory of one of his birthday parties. His dad, who was owner of Jay James Cameras in Bridgeport, brought home a film projector and we got to watch cartoons on a big screen in their family room. That was amazing at the time to me to see something like that in someone’s home when all we watched back then were small black & white TVs!
I am now married with 16-year-old twins and I so I wish I had known that Jonathan was living so near by and involved in a related creative field as me. I spent pretty much my whole career in the world of video production and education. I retired in 2017 after serving 21-years as Manager of Media Systems in the Communication Dept. at Santa Clara University in the heart of Silicon Valley. Rest in peace my dear friend from so long ago. I wish I could have met up with you before you left us. Please accept my heartfelt condolences to all of Jonathan’s family members.
Mark Johnson
September 19, 2020
Fifty years back this last summer, I was in Middletown, Connecticut; sharing a house with a few friends operating a volunteer program of social services staffed by students from the college. It was a bubbling, exciting time of new hopes and horizons.
For much of that time, we had an "open" supper at the house, Monday-Friday. Late each afternoon, Jonathan (and his partner Jon Kramer) visited local produce markets to beg or buy vegetables which would not last for sale on the morrow. I would take the eggplants, onions, celery-roots, tomatoes, beet-greens, and other stuffs, using it to cook a dozen quarts of soup, or a bucket of sauce for pasta, or a "gado-gado" (East Indian cooked salad with ground-nut dressing).
Somewhere earlier (I don't remember), I acquired a crate of dishes, cups, and tableware - service for seventy! And every evening, fifteen to fifty people would sit on the lawn in the twilight; we were an eating collective. Lots of them were the college-student volunteers, others were parents, high-school kids, or local residents who wanted to scope-out what was going-on. Supper on Vine Street was a place to share news, to find out what was going on, to meet and relax. The college provost joined us about once a week; the mayor came by a bit less often. People might bring bread or contribute a wheel of cheese; others might give some change for the next-day's foraging. One wonderful person brought two 5-gallon packs of ice cream!
My original offer to be daily suppertime cook at the house was contingent on someone else washing dishes. And there were a lot of dirty dishes - we were proud of using no disposables - but there were plenty of volunteer dishwashers, too. You couldn't fit more than three people into the kitchen to wash, so we set up a scraps-pail and a plastic wading-pool to pre-soak our dishes near the door. A Middlefield pig-farmer collected the waste.
After people ate, a bunch would sit around and talk. Someboday might play or sing some music - Jonathan in his exotic shirts and bushel of hair, or Aly Sujo doing ersatz Andean folk-tunes. I played Rahguvamsa on the 12-string. Tewari came to eat and sing one evening, Varda Brahms brought her fiddle, then another night J.D. Rowe stopped-in with The Joyfull Noise. It must have rained a couple of evenings, but I really don't remember those...
This all assembled itself. The half-dozen of us living in the house agreed to a collective dinner; I was to cook, Jed's girlfriend (whose name I disremember) would organize the money and cleanup. One evening, the Jonathans came to visit just as supper was ending - the next day they appeared with a box of veggies. The thing just scaled-up with no earnest discussions, no planning. A happening!
And it lasted for weeks. Some days it was enormous, others merely big. It tied us together as a community, it served as our "evening news." It lasted until the catastrophic Powder Ridge Festival (where many of the volunteers - even me - had temporary jobs) brought division and distrust into central Connecticut.
I am so sorry for the sudden change in your life, Gretchen. For the empty spot in all of our universes. I hope you have the belief his spirit continues in the hearts of us who traveled in this life with him.
Bj droubi
September 18, 2020
Jonathan was a beautiful person, a sophisticated and kind man. He will be missed, especially in his Noe Valley neighborhood
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