An Ode to Johnny

It's never easy losing a good friend. When that person is also a myth and a legend, you rally up everyone and raise a glass. Along the way you cry some, you laugh some. This doesn't make it any easier, but having a pint in his pub, with his friends, telling his stories, somehow made it seem that, for a brief moment, he was there again with us. Rest in peace, Johnny.

Aaron was the toastmaster, and he kept things simple.

'The toast is - count to one-two-three, and everyone as loud as they can to say "We love you, John!".'

On the count of three, the pub erupted with a collective love toast for our dear friend. Then we swapped stories for hours on how he touched so many lives.

One time, after a lengthy deployment, John showed up at our door bearing gifts. He had taking a liking to the Zoo and was an avid reader while down range, so he came well-prepared with an assortment of gifts for the boys, a fire-proof oven mitt for Angie and a t-shirt for me that said 'You say Psycho like it's a bad thing.' Yeah, he knew us well.

Another story making it's way around the pub was 'Famine Day'. I didn't want to do it injustice, since I only know it second-hand, so I asked Damo for a first-hand recap.

'Ah, that was a funny story. It was a Tuesday or Wednesday, I can't really remember exactly. Johnny, Hatch, Chris and I were exchanging emails on meeting up that Friday at O'Reilly's. We had finally agreed to meet up at 9:00 PM and for some reason, I hit "reply all" to the last email with "Bring sandwiches!". I really don't know why, it just seemed funny at the time. I honestly thought that the email string was done and that we would be meeting up at the pub on Friday. Then, Johnny responded with "Sandwiches???". That's when I couldn't help myself and responded with "Yeah, didn't you know? It's Famine Day Friday - you have to bring sandwiches out to feed the hungry.". I then called Hatch and let him in on what was going on. Hatch then replied all and said "Of course, I didn't forget - I'm bringing Tuna sandwiches." Friday finally came and I had honestly forgotten about the whole thing. I was walking by the Bismarkplatz when Johnny Mac (a different Johnny) came up to me and said "You're going to Hell for your sins, Damo". I asked him what I had done now and he explained "Johnny is up at the Irish pub handing out sandwiches to complete strangers."

And this, my Zoobies, is how Famine Day started. Thanks, Damo!

It is also a testament to what a big heart Johnny had. Someone told him to bring sandwiches to feed the hungry - no problem. He marked it in his calendar and showed up with enough to feed the pub, not to mention Anne, Niall, and the other puzzled staff.

Famine Day has became so legendary that there is now an official Famine Day celebrated in Heidelberg on November 14th, if you ask Nicky. If you ask Karen, it's the 12th and Aaron would argue that it's the 17th.  The date doesn't matter, though. The important thing is that we now carry on the tradition and all of us aging pub-crawlers make a few dozen sandwiches and show up at the pub, sometime in November, to feed the hungry. 

Speaking of the famished, Angie raided the pub's kitchen for cucumbers yet again, warranting Karen's patented 'look' and prompting me to give recognition where recognition was due. Yes, I placed it directly above the kitchen door.

I'm not a betting man, but I'd wager a bottle of my beloved French's mustard that Angie would have been less than tickled to see my impromptu creation. Luckily, she was too busy swapping memories and Baby Guinness' with Sebastian and Tracy to witness my fait accompli.

After a few hours of heavy-duty consumption, Angie was ready to get her witch on. Angie had once amazed Johnny with this bar trick that ends up with ash magically appearing on your hand.

To make a long story weird, Angie also baffled Tracy, who then shouted rather loudly that Angie must be a witch. Luckily, Angie took the insult in stride and tried her best not to cackle like a witch. Um, fail. 

Johnny Mac was also in rare form. See, he normally does not allow any (AND I DO MEAN ANY) photographic evidence that he exists, but, for reasons most likely related to influence, he allowed this shot. Thanks. 

It's never easy losing a good friend. When that person is also a myth and a legend, you rally up everyone and raise a glass. Along the way you cry some, you laugh some; if you're lucky you might even get a hug from Johnny Mac. This doesn't make it any easier, but having a pint in his pub, with his friends, telling his stories, somehow made it seem that, for a brief moment, he was there again with us. Rest in peace, Johnny.