I share the same feelings of disbelief and loss that all friends of John and Jacqui are feeling since hearing of the news last Friday. We all reflect on the memories of our times together and feel the sadness that comes from knowing we will not see John again. However, the measure of any person's life is the lasting impact they have on those who they knew and loved, and it is comforting for all of us, and for Jacqui, that John's impact on our lives was both meaningful and unforgettable.

For my wife Shirley and I, John and Jacqui are in our thoughts daily, since we daily enjoy our water dog Sophie, a gift from these two generous and wonderful people. As is their way, they would accept no payment for this extraordinary gift. It was obviously payment enough for them to know that it made us really happy.

Having read through all the comments on the blog, in which all the English language superlatives (and a few in Spanish), and every high complement possible have been used over and over, I cannot help but think John would have some wry thoughts to share were he to read this stuff.
It's all true, but I do believe John would be rolling his eyes and shaking his head at all of this adulation.

I suspect that John would want all of us thinking about not just his kindness and generosity and clear thinking, but some of the lessons he taught all of his friends and acquaintances in less direct ways.

First, clothes don't make the man was clearly among his guiding sartorial principles. I remember attending meetings with health plan physicians John was attempting to herd in the direction of appropriate utilization. John's shirts were frayed. His ties were two or three style generations old in terms of width. Occasionally his socks did not match. And polished shoes were out of the question. I was never really sure if this was a lesson to them about anti materialism, a subtle message to the physicians about the need for cost containment given the health plan's inability to pay him a salary adequate to purchase new clothes, or John's unwillingness to spend money on something as frivolous as dress up clothes.

Second, eat what tastes good. In our last breakfast together a month ago, John downed 3 of the richest, biggest, butteriest croissants I have ever tasted. In this cholesterol obsessed world, John ate the way he lived his life, with total abandon and enthusiasm.

Finally, suffer fools politely. I always admired John for his ability to be genuinely nice to everyone, even those whose opinions and behavior was simeon in comparison to John's. Many years ago one of John's health plans hosted brokers and some physicians in Palm Springs. John got dressed up in dark socks, shorts, running shoes, long sleeve dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, and a hat that was too big for his head. He proceded to wander around the course in a golf cart, briefly joining each foresome of intoxicated health plan guests, hitting occasional shots, all miserably off line I should add, acting as though he really was enjoying himself and enjoying all these people with whom he had little if anything in common. He treated everyone nicely. (That said, I will tell you that each time he came back to my group, he would roll his eyes, quietly make some demeaning comment about my enthusiasm for golf, and ask how many holes were left before the torture ended. )

I can't help but smile as I think about John, as sarcasm and laughing characterized most of our all too infrequent meetings these past 20 years. I'm pretty sure that's the way he would have it for all of us. Smile when he comes into our thoughts, and then live life fully.

We offer love to Jacqui and our smiles for John.

Skip and Shirley Rosenbloom