I finally got to visit John at USC last week. He had a steady stream of visitors, all of which drove from some distance.
From my visit:
[fullalbumimg]18216[/fullalbumimg]
There were several other pix, but I was a bit apprehensive... when I jumped up next to him, he kinda looked at me and said "You know, if you slip, I'm dead"
Jenn has been taking great care of old JB, and what an amazing role she fills!
It's still a tough road, and one that was developing even while I was there.
Again, interested folks, please let me know if you'd like to be on distribution.
Anyhow, next installment: How I met John
I've mentioned this thread to John, and he hasn't been able to see it yet, but is full of stoke knowing some of the tidbits that we've shared.
This next piece, as well as those that followed, are happily muddied by our collective recollection of what actually happened.
UCSD in the early eighties. John was at Third college. I was at Revelle, and managed into the watersport mudhut Atlantis. They are on opposite ends of the campus, but every 'hot spot' on campus was quickly laid out regardless of where your pillow was.
Warren had that (was it the Commons?) It was an often-used indoor facility with a good-sized deck that looked over the spaceship. Muir had the towers, and the greatest concentration of the ladies.
Atlantis was Octoberfest, an outdoor volleyball court, and the obligitory climb up the side of the building to refill your beer. There were attacks on Beagle, and a very hard return from Fogcutters, of which we saw the last one... I guess Octoberfest too.
It wasn't SDSU, but those days had some soul. John Sundt threw some great parties at the Farms pad, the surf team was strong, and Bill Lerner ruled the waters on the local kneelo circuit, with Bill Sharp ruling SDSU.
Jack and Chris were coming on strong. A lot of others of you were there, and there were a lot of kneelos.
Wino... Greg Little... Ambrose (was really good at rollos) Matt... jeez. On and on.
The Lowenbrau was winding down. The key was still the goal, with parking permission a very close second.
Skateboarding was the primary mode to get around. Pimping beer was the norm, but not very hard.
This was before the Elephant Bar, and there was practically no Greek System.
Kegs happened after Surf Club/Team meetings.
Early Fall is filtered light, and beautiful conditions. Nights are still warm until the late October, early November desert-driven cold offshores. Folks roam.
A mudhut full of surfers, swimmers, and waterpolo players is a great mixture. It's a darn good thing the structure was cinderblock. The gals in the mudhut were, for the vast majority, awesome. But that's home turf, and folks roam.
The night I met John was one of those nights. Ending up at Third was dicey. They had some great parties, but it was more of an almost townhouse feel, with groups separated into maybe 10-12 units per building. A raucus gathering is an odd thing, and only become more odd as the years rolled on.
That was a good night at Third. Or Ugly. Kinda both. As much as I can remember, I can't recall if that was the year a high school buddy (Dale) transferred from Colorado, or the year before. I do remember a cast of characters that to this day I'm proud to call my friends.
The wanderers from Revelle ran smack dab into a shin-dig that was rocking. That was the night I met John, Mean-old-Twan, Miner, Guardino, and a host of others. It was boozy. I woke up in a random gal's room, and did the skate of shame outta there the next day. John was equally occupied.
JACK!
[fullalbumimg]18199[/fullalbumimg]
One thing about John...While he is the most gracious and thoughtful person. He is a natural persona, and is comfortable in any situation. He rolls into the night just as naturally as the day. A great time surrounded by Jack-n-Coke, Zeppelin booming, the one surf-flick running over-and-over, and whateva else you wanted. Drunken skateboarding, strange contusions... Roberto's runs... all the ideals of the young away from constraints.
The difference between us that night was John fired up the Harley, and I think all I left were drool-marks on some disgusted and as I remember quite unattractive gal's pillow.
Many reading can relate. It's not that unusual. But that's how we met. At least I think so. As far as I can remember. I know it was well before 1990.
Suddenly, the clans between Third and Revelle were connected.
He, Miner and Matt had a band called... 'The Three Dudes.' A brown bag title for a band that rocked many a party.
Good days started to roll and evolve. Most folks can only stay on campus for a year, maybe two... hardly ever for the duration.
For most of those that I knew, that meant an eventual migration to one of the off-campus surf-house rentals. These are mostly 9-month leases that allowed for peak Summer fares. It usually worked out well for all involved.
The surf-houses carried names like 'The Pink House', 'Entropy North', 'The Bubble House', and the subject of the next installment: The Cave.
Here's the Cave, in all it's 'Glory'
[fullalbumimg]18203[/fullalbumimg]
From L to R: John, Mean-Old-Twon on the floor, Miner biting the board, and Matt. The Three Dudes, plus Mean-Old-Twon!
Again, anyone that was 'more there than I was
,' please feel free to jump in! Happy Birthday again, JB!
