John,

I read with shock and sadness the newspaper article reporting the death of John and his friend, Susan, in an airplane accident the end of May. The last time I saw John, his family and friends, was in 1970 when my husband and I traveled with two small children to the family retreat in Boulder. Then I lost track of him, but always had fond memories of his friendship as we studied (well, sort of) at the University of Utah.

I first met him in a Physics class at the U, the summer of 1964. It was crazy--three quarters, a years worth of physics in six weeks. Lectures every morning, a midterm or final every Friday, and labs in the afternoon Monday through Thursday. We met in the physics building, unairconditioned, of course. One experiment couldn’t be performed because the air temperature was just too high during August in Utah. I remember the lab assistant saying the first person that shocked themselves while doing experiments with electricity would fail. I shocked myself shortly thereafter but fortunately didn’t fail.

We survived physics and John drove to Boulder for R and R before returning to Covina. Before he left, he had taken me flying and we had had some good conversations. It was never small talk with him. He had a way of peeling back all the protective outer layers of a person, and really getting to what was deep down inside. I am fairly sure he loved everyone with which he had such communication. This was something new to me and I wanted to continue sharing ideas and aspirations so I wrote him: “John Austin, Boulder, Utah” because I had no idea what his address was. The letter was hand delivered by a boy on horseback who knew where John was fishing. That was back in the days when the population of Boulder was 104. I understand it has almost tripled since then.

He returned to the U for his last year before medical school. By then I had moved to a small but sincere apartment a couple of blocks from the University library. With three roommates, and friends--Rob (premed), Anil, Asit, and Alam (grad students in Biology) we had many a get together. John joined the group and became fast friends with all. I still have the card on which we all wrote our addresses. We vowed to meet in Europe in 25 years but of course it never happened. In retrospect we were like family especially with Anil, Asit, and Alam so far from home. John corresponded with some of the group when we all went our separate ways.

We were young, full of energy, and noble aspirations, and wanted to make sure that we would never “sell out” to the establishment. John once wrote: “I’ve always believed that what we are is what we can give, but I am only now seeing the relationship between our ability to give and the importance of taking. Just as surely as there can be no good without bad, there can be no giving without knowing how to take. . .Write as you can. Don’t miss any chances to live.” John gave so much and we were blessed with his caring and acceptance. Didn’t matter who you were or what you believed.

When I knew him, John believed there was nothing after you died, so live life to its fullest. That was not my belief and he knew it, but it wasn’t an issue. I don’t know if that was how he felt later in life. If he was right, he will live on for all of us in every sunset, in every loving act we extend to others, in the ranch, in his love for Jaqui. He will live on in the memories of all who knew and loved him. If there is a life after we die, I am sure he was greeted with a loving embrace by his Maker, with joy for the good life that John led, for the lives he touched.

I didn’t cry until I found the pictures I was looking for, only three from 1966 and probably a polaroid taken of the Austin residence in Boulder in 1964. With a flood of memories the tears ran down my cheeks. I am attaching them to this email. Best wishes and heartfelt condolences to Jaqui and the Austin family.

Maude Norman