Thank You, John,

Thank you, John for being my friend and my mentor.

Thank you, John for tolerating my foolishness and my emotional swings as your friend and as your employee. I am sure many times I was exactly the fool Skip has described you suffered so well.

Thank you, John for carefully and quietly guiding and comforting me as I faced losing my mother to cancer. You handed me a medical volume turned to the page that described what she had, how it would be treated and how it was likely to end, without words but with a strong hug.

Thank you, John for forcing me to figure out for myself what you could so easily have told me and then for the wry grin you would give me when I marched back into your office having finally figured out what you were pushing me to see. And for your tolerance when for the first 5 minutes I actually thought I had come up with the idea myself.

Thank you, John for creating a wonderful work environment at HPA that taught me so many things about both life and business and how they differ. The friendships developed among the people you gathered together there have lasted many, many years. It was there that I got my first glimpse of your deep and endless love for Jacqui when during your staff meeting she called and you answered in a completely different voice; lower, loving and gentle. We all got up and left as we knew we were eavesdropping on a great love affair.

Thank you, John for being willing to work with me several times since those days at HPA, and for continuing to give me your guidance without judgment. You were never without your opinions about what I was pursuing, you just were supportive of me wandering around figuring things out for myself.

Thank you, John for always taking my calls and always answering my e-mails and always asking first in these past few years if my son was safe as he was more often deployed than at home. You knew how truly terrified I was and it helped to have you ask in that incredibly warm gentle way you had of talking to me. Your profound objection to the war never got in the way of caring about my son and my heart-numbing fear.

Thank you, John for letting me from time to time get a glimpse of the amazing man behind the amazing businessman. The way you conducted your life and your long deep love affair with Jacqui is well imprinted on me and I thank you for the experience of having known you.

And one last thank you, John for I know that you forgive me for being incapable of attending your memorial because I am unable to graciously let go and accept that I will never be able to talk to you again.

Thank you, Jacqui for sharing John and your life with him. May you gain comfort from his friends and the many warm memories.

Susy (Schleuning) Kreiskott

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

How hard can it be!

These were the words I remember from my first encounter with Dr. John Austin. “How hard can it be” was the mantra for Arcadian Health Plan. The health plan was a vision for this accomplished man and his team. But it was not just another business. This was a health plan… a health plan which, not only employed hundreds of people but cared for tens of thousands of members. To John, these employees and members were his extended family.

I was proud to be a part of the Arcadian family. To know and work with John was a privilege and an enjoyment. His smile, wink of eye, tilt of the head and tassel of the hair will never be forgotten. His tremendous career as a physician, a businessman and as a pilot was model for all to follow. John, for me, will be forever remembered as a friend, a mentor, a teacher and one who inspired others. He inspired me to be the best I could be in all aspects of life including business and aviation. I will miss our talks of flying, his stories of life, the ranch and the people he knew and loved.

As they say, behind every great man is a great woman. Well John made sure that Jacqui was by his side. I will keep Jacqui in my thoughts and prayers during these extreme heartfelt times.

I was blessed to know John, the man, the physician, the businessman and the pilot and it is hard… Hard to believe the world, the land and the skies are without John Austin.

John will forever squawk one-two-zero-zero.

Steve Klaus

Mentor and Friend:

John, I contacted many of our shared acquaintances after I heard the tragic news on Friday two weeks ago. Three physician leaders responded individually, but with remarkably similar reactions when I shared the news by phone: disbelief which then shifted to concern for Jacqui. As of Tuesday evening each had reflected upon his times with you. Drs. Kishel, Rosenbloom and Kongstvedt have each weighed in with their memories of the profound impact you had upon them. John, you were so generous in “stretching” all of us who worked with you and for you: appropriate challenges and constructive criticism. . .

I knew you touched many, but I underestimated your influence and impact. These three physicians reference your special gifts: your generosity, encouragement, and caring. They clearly admired you.

John, I have always admired you and sought you out for advice and counsel. I am so gratified that your contemporaries Peter, Mark and Skip point out the remarkable influence you have had on their lives. There shall never be another like you;

Godspeed Dr. John.

swarren

Memories of John Austin

I met John in the summer of 2002 when I came to Oakland for an interview with Ken Zimmerman for a financial analyst position with Arcadian Management Services. John and Ken took me out to lunch that day and I remember John took a special interest in my Dad who was at the time in a nursing home in Yountville. They wanted me to relocate from San Diego to Oakland and I remarked that it would be good because I would be a lot closer and be able to visit Dad more frequently. Through the years John would always make a point of asking how dad was doing. Dad passed away about 3 years ago and I am just now realizing that John Austin has in many ways been a father to me and I suspect many other Arcadians.

One year at Christmas I baked some biscotti for everyone in the office from an old family recipe. John complemented me and asked for the recipe which I gave to him. At the time I was not sure if he really liked the cookies or was just being polite. The next time I baked him cookies he remarked that he hopes there will be some left for him to bring home to Jacqui. He said they ate them in one sitting the last time so after that I started giving him a bigger bag of cookies when I baked them.

One year he invited everyone in the office to his house for lunch. It was spring time and his rose garden was in full bloom. I remember thinking I want a garden like this. I have been remodeling a house for the last 3 years and John would always ask about the progress. I was planning to have John come out to the house for lunch but was waiting until I finished the yard. I have been dreaming of planting a garden which was inspired by John house in Oakland. It makes me sad that I won’t be able to share it with him.

I would sometimes tease John about his car. He was driving this old Toyota camery that must have been more than ten years old, the paint was so faded. I remember when he finally bought a new car, correction a one year old used car. One night December 2007 John and I were at the airport about midnight, we were coming back from the service center Christmas party when our flight was delayed 3 hours. We were waiting for the parking van to come pick us up in the freezing cold and I remarked that with his wealth he should have a limo driver pick him up rather than stand in the cold. He would not have anything to do with that idea. When he gave his speech at the party he singled me out of the crowd with several others because I had been with the company for so many years. I commented back that my former employer had given a gold pin and a dinner after 5 years; I thought at lease he could take me to lunch after 7 years. He laughed and promised to take me to lunch. A couple months later John took me out to lunch at one of his favorite restaurants in Piedmont. He goes there for the Duck and we had a nice lunch just the two of us.

Gary Intersimone

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

I will always remember and be grateful that you came into my life.

Dear John,
I was so much hoping I would speak with you and while we recently exchanged emails, I never got the chance. Few people have affected my life so. When we were first introduced in 1982, I was a fledging medical director and you were my mentor. I vividly remember the time you hosted us in Squaw Valley. Skiing KT-22, and cross country skiing into Donner Pass, where we came across Puma tracks in the freshly fallen snow, along side the railroad trestle. The day was sunny and we rested for a while next to a running stream, with snow drifts surrounding us. It was magical.

I was so impressed with what you did, I left my job in Arizona and began working for HealthAmerica. You cheered me on and helped me think through difficult choices. You and Jacqui visited me after the birth of my daughter Brittany and brought her a doll, a folksy rabbit doll, dressed in gingham. I had never seen anything like it. Brittany has gone on to ride horses and now will be off to medical school in the fall. Twenty plus years passed in a heartbeat.

You touched base with me over the years but as you grew busier (and so did I) those touch points became separated by more and more time. Our common acquaintances would update me from time to time, as to what you were doing, and others who knew you would also inquire about you. I recently joined Coventry and reached out to you. Stryker forwarded your contact info and you replied by email, “I will get back to you shortly”.
John, you have touched many lives and I feel blessed to have known you. I was so much hoping I would speak with you again.

Your friend,
Mark Kishel