<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242</id><updated>2011-08-23T04:40:48.927-07:00</updated><category term='Austin'/><category term='Where does the time go?'/><category term='John'/><title type='text'>John Austin</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>56</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-927536951577051784</id><published>2011-05-30T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T21:10:36.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May flowers. . . .</title><content type='html'>JHA: Thinking of you and missing you. The days remain hectic but nary a one passes absent some reminder of your influence. The world is so much better because of you and the influence you had on so many. Stryker&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-927536951577051784?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/927536951577051784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2011/05/may-flowers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/927536951577051784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/927536951577051784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2011/05/may-flowers.html' title='May flowers. . . .'/><author><name>Stryker Warren jr.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05393553496352585561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5131982725231627255</id><published>2011-03-12T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T19:41:33.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring time</title><content type='html'>JHA: For some reason, sitting here in Minneapolis after new snow last night, daylight saving time beginning just past midnite tonite, pictures of the devastation in Japan following the tsunami, and signing a pile of papers to send to a law office in Los Angeles to cooperate in a re-financing you might shake your head about, I was thinking I might open either a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale or a nice California red. . . all of which made me think of you, Jacqui and sitting in the kitchen with NPR blaring at Ross Street and two pups using a well-worn rug in front of the gas range as their "slip 'n slide".  Had dinner with Phil and Andrea a month ago; we toasted you and spoke of you and Miss Jacqui.  We miss you very much John.  Seldom does a day pass that there isn't some small reminder of you and what you brought to all of us.  I hope to see the Ross Street garden in the next month, but I remain defiant in my boycott of foreign films and silent films Jacqui wishes to introduce to me.  Love ya mon, swjr&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5131982725231627255?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5131982725231627255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2011/03/spring-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5131982725231627255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5131982725231627255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2011/03/spring-time.html' title='Spring time'/><author><name>Stryker Warren jr.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05393553496352585561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3657878110975110893</id><published>2010-11-25T20:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T20:24:53.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Addendum</title><content type='html'>John: I hope you are sitting down. . . the Giants won the pennant and then the World Series.  What a wacky year you missed.  Despite what I said in earlier posts, the Giants are great and the 49'er suck.  Go figure.  I completely missed my call on each.  Luv you mon, swjr&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3657878110975110893?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3657878110975110893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/11/addendum.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3657878110975110893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3657878110975110893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/11/addendum.html' title='Addendum'/><author><name>Stryker Warren jr.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05393553496352585561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5243004873955248676</id><published>2010-11-25T20:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T20:11:41.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving 2010</title><content type='html'>John: We continue to remember you and the way in which you touched our lives--legions of us whom you recruited and mentored in the business world as well as those of us whom you embraced as friends.  You challenged us and you complimented us.  Your steady hand is sorely missed as is your sense of humor.  When I gave thanks today, I gave thanks for the indelible imprint you left.  We miss you so much, Stryker&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5243004873955248676?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5243004873955248676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5243004873955248676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5243004873955248676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-2010.html' title='Thanksgiving 2010'/><author><name>Stryker Warren jr.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05393553496352585561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1491437728000142784</id><published>2010-09-05T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T15:18:03.689-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Where does the time go?'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>John: While we all continue to satisfy daily responsibilities, it is impossible to ignore your absence.  Bryce has just reminded all of us to reflect on your birthday--and to do so in a fashion consistent with your preferences and behaviors.  I did not wait until your September birthday.  You taught me how to live years ago, so much of the behaviours have become involuntary reflexes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seasons change, we grow older and hopefully wiser, and we count our blessings.  A week does not pass without my seeing something that reminds me of you.  You have left an indelible print on so many. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I trust you spend your afternoons in meanignful discussions with Janet and Kit.  I have attempted to be a frequent visitor to Ross Street where I can ply my gardening prowess, but I have rather been infrequent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Oakland A's are awful, the Giants ambivalent about first place, but the expectations sky-high for your 49'ers.  Since last there with you, I have not returned to Ft. Ross to dive for abalone.  We toasted you at Harlan Mathews' games dinner two weeks ago.  Governor McWhorter was effusive in his comments about "Dr. John".  Phil, Pete, Harry Lee, Harlan and I all shared a toast to our dear friend, "Dr. John".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most importantly, please know Jacqui has been remarkably strong and focused.  How she misses you.  You were always so proud of her; she has outdone you this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John, we miss you so much, Stryker&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1491437728000142784?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1491437728000142784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/09/john-while-we-all-continue-to-satisfy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1491437728000142784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1491437728000142784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/09/john-while-we-all-continue-to-satisfy.html' title=''/><author><name>Stryker Warren jr.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05393553496352585561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2580244747439836978</id><published>2010-09-02T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T12:34:34.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From Bryce, on your birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;Hope everyone will raise a glass of good wine today, or possibly repair a broken pipe, change a flat tire, read a good book, drink a strong cup of coffee, pet a friendly dog, work hard at the office, weed a while in the garden, take a brief nap, tell a clever joke, and cook a fine meal with someone you love before a bowl of ice cream and falling asleep in front of a movie.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/TH_7VfBvMfI/AAAAAAAAAXA/UOGcTfX7vM8/s1600/JohnOnDeck.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="377" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/TH_7VfBvMfI/AAAAAAAAAXA/UOGcTfX7vM8/s400/JohnOnDeck.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Happy Birthday, Uncle John. &amp;nbsp;I miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2580244747439836978?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2580244747439836978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/09/from-bryce-on-your-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2580244747439836978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2580244747439836978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2010/09/from-bryce-on-your-birthday.html' title='From Bryce, on your birthday'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/TH_7VfBvMfI/AAAAAAAAAXA/UOGcTfX7vM8/s72-c/JohnOnDeck.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2329985224878983731</id><published>2009-10-13T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T08:15:27.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Always With Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I am finally calm enough to write something for/about John. It has taken me  over a week - after reading about the accident involving John and his friend  last May, 4 months ago. I came upon the news purely by chance while browsing the  web. I was in utter shock as I read the details...and shaken to the core for  many days.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I was a patient of John Austin’s, while a teenager in the early 70’s. He  was a young resident at Highland Hospital. To put it plainly, and to spare the  details, I will say that through his brilliance as a physican, he saved my life.  While in the hospital, he was as much my doctor as a very special person and  friend. It was a critical time in my life.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I moved away from CA, and we corresponded occasionally, writing letters,  for several years. Over time...my parents and a portion of my family that lived  in California...got to know him a bit, and share the fondness I had for him. He  had a very big heart, as everyone on this site has acknowledged. I never knew  him in later life, except one visit when I went to CA in the mid-70’s. I didn’t  know of all his interests, his personal or professional life, but none of it  surprises me. It is how I would have imagined him to be. He was inspirational at  a difficult time in my life, and through his friendship and genius as a doctor,  and kindness as a person, I continued on with my life...never forgetting  him...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The twinkle in his eye and smile, that so many have mentioned, were the  first thing I noticed about him - and I believe it was his love of Life. All  life, all good things. I have always had him in my heart and mind, and always  will. I always hoped I would see him again.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Interestingly, the day I read about this, my husband and I got involved  with an organization here in Boston that helps house (out of state) families  when sick members are in town for special medical treatments in our great  hospitals. I like to think about John in this new &amp;amp; special connection. I  won’t say goodbye (to him), because he never left me. But I do send my deepest  condolences to his family and friends that had him in their lives. I cried for  all of us...but also know of the gifts he left us with.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tamara&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2329985224878983731?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2329985224878983731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/10/always-with-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2329985224878983731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2329985224878983731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/10/always-with-me.html' title='Always With Me'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-9113864141177216643</id><published>2009-09-20T01:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T01:19:38.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;John:  Happy, happy 65th!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul McCartney composed John’s rhetorical question; we all watched Jacqui say, “Yes!” to each question posed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;When I get older losing my hair, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Many years from now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Will you still be sending me a valentine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Birthday greetings bottle of wine?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'd been out till quarter to three &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Would you lock the door, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Will you still need me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;will you still feed me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;When I’m sixty-four?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing the garden, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;digging the weeds, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Who could ask for more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Will you still need me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;will you still feed me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;When I’m sixty-four?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John, we loved you at 64, and we love you more and miss you so very much at 65. . . as September 1st came and went, from far and wide we toasted your birthday.  You live in our hearts, and the memories of the times we shared together fill our souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Godspeed Johnnie, Godspeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Stryker &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-9113864141177216643?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/9113864141177216643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/09/john-happy-happy-65th-paul-mccartney.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/9113864141177216643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/9113864141177216643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/09/john-happy-happy-65th-paul-mccartney.html' title=''/><author><name>Stryker Warren jr.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05393553496352585561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3919605963627936909</id><published>2009-08-01T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T20:39:11.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two months. . . and I cannot accept you are not in our midst.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;John: It  has been two months and the memories have grown more vivid.  I suspect you’d  have criticized several individuals for celebrations in Oakland—rather  Claremont—and then Boulder, UT that provided the opportunity to reminisce about  “Johnnie”, Dr. Austin, John, Dr. John, Uncle John, our “big brother”, our best  friend, “my little brother” and the guy everyone had on speed dial. . . more  reliable than “9-1-1”, more capable than any help-desk, any on-call mechanic,  any typical uncle who’d have a nephew and his wife delivering their first  child—a daughter. . . one-of-a-kind.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;Well, we  knew you were with us as we doted on you, talked about your remarkable  intellect, your unparalleled creativity, your patience, your remarkable  encouragement, your innate ability to find things in us we never knew we had,  your devotion to Jacqui, your ability to convince others to suffer through those  inexplicable foreign films, your love of your “Sweetie”, . . . and you never  expected anything in return.  You found your reward in sharing time with  individuals you knew needed you or were simply, “interesting”.  John, you gave  so much, and now many of us are realizing there was never sufficient opportunity  to express our gratitude.  If you’d been there, you’d have been impressed by how  smart I was at the Claremont Country Club after my sixth glass of Newton  unfiltered Chardonnay in discussing your idiosyncrasies, your foibles. . . and I  see you leaning back and asking, “So Warren, what have you learned, what piece  of evidence can you offer to convince me you have been  awakened?”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;Well,  “Johnnie” . . . Dr. John. . . two things:  Jacqui always impressed me as  “quietly tough” but I must share with you that while she will always love you  and will never fill the hole you left, she is focused, organized and very smart and  tough.  That lady had always impressed me; this experience has taken it to a new  level.  Secondly, between Jim, Bryce and me, we realized it’s OK to say we love  another guy. . . that being said, I think Cousin Gerry would weigh in and say  that he loves you and always has, and—remarkably—Sid cried in Boulder when  describing his experiences with you. . . he also stimulated some sustained  laughter too.  It was terrific to hear Jim, Ed, Justin, Bobby, Tim, Larry, and  Alan extol your virtues. . . Alan talked about “doubles” coming at you and going  away from you in Scotland.  A pair of doubles. . . again, unbelievable what you  could always do with an “Aw shucks!” attitude.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;John I  wandered through the house on the ranch. . . alfalfa panorama for a front yard.  . . whether on roof deck, in the tub, or on the back patio, the slick rock back  drop as the back yard is simply spectacular. . . what a dichotomy.  The floor  plan is spectacular, the land so special.  This may be the first “&lt;u&gt;new&lt;/u&gt;  item” you have ever financed or purchased since I have known you. . . I hope to  have pizza with Miss Jacqui, your “Sweetie”, in the kitchen prior to heading  down to the barn to do chores. . . .&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;How we miss  you John. . . the annual “Quail dinner” will be hosted by Senator Mathews in  Nashville August 6; the theme, the focus, the preoccupation given the  participants including your friends Gov. McWhorter, Gov. Bredesen, and the  Senator. . . to mention nothing of Mr. Pete, Harry Lee and the entourage. . . is  about you.  Everyone’s friend.  I thought I’d not make it because of a Board  meeting, but all-of-a-sudden being with friends and extolling your virtues has  taken on a new importance.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;John, on  August 6&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; we will make fun of you, tell stories, and reminisce. . .  then Phil will likely insist we stop and simply say none of us has ever, ever  enjoyed a richer friendship.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;John, I  miss you, I think about you often, I will do anything Jacqui asks, I will tell  Eva about you, I will continue to live my life knowing you made me better and I  never had a chance to repay you.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif';"&gt;How I miss  you,      &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"&gt;Stryker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Century Gothic','sans-serif';"&gt;Stryker  Warren jr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: 'Century Gothic','sans-serif';"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:swarren@urologix.com"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;swarren@urologix.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3919605963627936909?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3919605963627936909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/08/two-months-and-i-cannot-accept-you-are.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3919605963627936909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3919605963627936909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/08/two-months-and-i-cannot-accept-you-are.html' title='Two months. . . and I cannot accept you are not in our midst.'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5551418985722396684</id><published>2009-07-08T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T08:13:04.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To John:</title><content type='html'>I first met John as a client of my consulting practice back in 2006. It was very clear that there was a lot to John - I guess I would call him complex (in a good way). He was clearly passionate about his company and its success but also very caring about the people that worked with him. There were many dimensions to him and I can think of many of his traits that were sometimes at odds with one another. He was smart, focused, energetic, stubborn, caring, funny, compassionate, loyal, direct, independent, loving, supportive, hard, soft and many other things all at the same time. Just a fantastic mix of things to make a special individual. Despite starting off as a purely business relationship, I am happy that our business relationship also grew into a friendship. I always found him to be true gentleman (in the "old school" sense - the world really needs more of those) and I enjoyed the time we spent together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John gave of himself freely and openly to me and, it is clear from the comments on this page, to many other people. What I personally enjoyed most were both his keen intellect combined with his sparkling sense of humor. When I visualize him it is always with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He had a zest for life that was infectious and something we should all try to emulate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also struck by how deeply he cared for the people in his life. So many of the people he worked with have been with him for years and despite the frustrations that come with any long term relationship, the underlying mutual affection and caring was crystal clear. However, nothing was more clear than how deeply he cared for Jacqui and the special relationship they have. It was obvious that she was the cause of the great twinkle in his eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss him and the world is a poorer place without him in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to share the following poem that I've found, which I think expresses my sentiments very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;In Celebration of a Life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for a brief moment&lt;br /&gt;Its glory and beauty belong to our world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then it flies on again.&lt;br /&gt;And though we wish it could have stayed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We feel so lucky to have seen it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed Page&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5551418985722396684?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5551418985722396684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5551418985722396684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5551418985722396684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-john.html' title='To John:'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-8699880364868783751</id><published>2009-06-29T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T14:40:30.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear John,</title><content type='html'>The days pass and the loss of you is still a tragedy.  I think of you often and my stomach does it's swirly, agonizing thing; it's a visceral response to the thought of never seeing your wry smile again. If there's any way that you're listening in to all this, you must know by now how treasured you were, how loved by so many, and the vast number of people who's lives are richer for having some, however small, interaction with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days pass; we learn to live without you; our fractured hearts slowly mend, though the scar is permanent.  But what will *always* remain is the effect you had on the world.  And us.  You have my deep, heartfelt thanks for being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-8699880364868783751?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/8699880364868783751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8699880364868783751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8699880364868783751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-john.html' title='Dear John,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-6212469942922321280</id><published>2009-06-12T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T11:11:03.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You, John,</title><content type='html'>Thank you, John for being my friend and my mentor.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;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.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thank you, Jacqui for sharing John and your life with him. May you gain comfort from his friends and the many warm memories.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Susy (Schleuning) Kreiskott&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-6212469942922321280?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/6212469942922321280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/thank-you-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6212469942922321280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6212469942922321280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/thank-you-john.html' title='Thank You, John,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3085305465269098618</id><published>2009-06-11T13:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T23:32:33.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John,</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiNowkHfFI/AAAAAAAAASY/GX7ZXNgiYYg/s1600-h/1964+Austin+house,+Boulder,+Utah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 325px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiNowkHfFI/AAAAAAAAASY/GX7ZXNgiYYg/s400/1964+Austin+house,+Boulder,+Utah.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348180288873135186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiN1qA_IBI/AAAAAAAAASg/un0TS50ZOTI/s1600-h/1966+College+group.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 317px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiN1qA_IBI/AAAAAAAAASg/un0TS50ZOTI/s400/1966+College+group.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348180510453473298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiKqN0_X7I/AAAAAAAAASQ/Ue61-qia4gc/s1600-h/1966+John+Austin+skiing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 306px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiKqN0_X7I/AAAAAAAAASQ/Ue61-qia4gc/s400/1966+John+Austin+skiing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348177015373520818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiJ4wfJRrI/AAAAAAAAASI/OQWi43leWTs/s1600-h/1966+Phi+Sigma+party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiJ4wfJRrI/AAAAAAAAASI/OQWi43leWTs/s400/1966+Phi+Sigma+party.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348176165683676850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maude Norman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3085305465269098618?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3085305465269098618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-read-with-shock-and-sadness-newspaper_11.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3085305465269098618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3085305465269098618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-read-with-shock-and-sadness-newspaper_11.html' title='John,'/><author><name>Naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02767855911823145223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NdJe6vFtKHU/SbPKLKW9bwI/AAAAAAAACvk/zX2H-AbCKKE/S220/IMG_1670.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SjiNowkHfFI/AAAAAAAAASY/GX7ZXNgiYYg/s72-c/1964+Austin+house,+Boulder,+Utah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3015054217729729044</id><published>2009-06-11T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T10:15:10.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How hard can it be!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;John will forever squawk one-two-zero-zero.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span class="swb"&gt;Steve Klaus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3015054217729729044?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3015054217729729044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/how-hard-can-it-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3015054217729729044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3015054217729729044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/how-hard-can-it-be.html' title='How hard can it be!'/><author><name>Naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02767855911823145223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NdJe6vFtKHU/SbPKLKW9bwI/AAAAAAAACvk/zX2H-AbCKKE/S220/IMG_1670.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5690755579424254367</id><published>2009-06-11T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T10:09:37.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mentor and Friend:</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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. . . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;Godspeed Dr. John. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Bradley Hand ITC&amp;quot;;"&gt;swarren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5690755579424254367?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5690755579424254367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/mentor-and-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5690755579424254367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5690755579424254367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/mentor-and-friend.html' title='Mentor and Friend:'/><author><name>Naomi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02767855911823145223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NdJe6vFtKHU/SbPKLKW9bwI/AAAAAAAACvk/zX2H-AbCKKE/S220/IMG_1670.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-6232880012748760235</id><published>2009-06-10T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T15:45:42.745-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of John  Austin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;I met &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; in the summer of 2002 when I came to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Oakland&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; for an interview with Ken Zimmerman for a financial analyst position with Arcadian Management Services.  &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; and Ken took me out to lunch that day and I remember &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; took a special interest in my Dad who was at the time in a nursing home in Yountville.  They wanted me to relocate from &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;San Diego&lt;/st1:city&gt; to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Oakland&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; 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 &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; 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 &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; Austin&lt;/st1:personname&gt; has in many ways been a father to me and I suspect many other Arcadians.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;One year at Christmas I baked some biscotti for everyone in the office from an old family recipe.  &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; 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.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;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 &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; would always ask about the progress.  I was planning to have &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; 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 &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; house in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Oakland&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;.  It makes me sad that I won’t be able to share it with him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;I would sometimes tease &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; about his car.  He was driving this old &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Toyota&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; 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 &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; 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 &lt;st1:personname st="on"&gt;John&lt;/st1:personname&gt; took me out to lunch at one of his favorite restaurants in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Piedmont&lt;/st1:place&gt;.  He goes there for the Duck and we had a nice lunch just the two of us.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="swb"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Gary Intersimone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-6232880012748760235?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/6232880012748760235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/memories-of-john-austin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6232880012748760235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6232880012748760235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/memories-of-john-austin.html' title='Memories of John  Austin'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1941834432214403009</id><published>2009-06-09T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T19:53:14.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;obviously&lt;/span&gt; payment enough for them to know that it made us really happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having read through all the comments on the blog, in which all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;It's all true, but I do &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; John would be rolling his eyes and shaking his head at all of this adulation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;acquaintances&lt;/span&gt; in less direct ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, clothes don't make the man was clearly among his guiding sartorial &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;principles&lt;/span&gt;. I remember attending meetings with health plan &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;physicians&lt;/span&gt; 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 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;frivolous&lt;/span&gt; as dress up clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, eat what tastes good. In our last breakfast together a month ago, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;John downed 3 of the richest, biggest, butteriest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;croissants&lt;/span&gt; I have ever tasted. In this cholesterol obsessed world, John ate the way he lived his life, with total abandon and enthusiasm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We offer love to Jacqui and our smiles for John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skip and Shirley Rosenbloom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1941834432214403009?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1941834432214403009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-share-same-feelings-of-disbelief-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1941834432214403009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1941834432214403009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-share-same-feelings-of-disbelief-and.html' title=''/><author><name>skiprose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15886562690593266910</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-771957158840474302</id><published>2009-06-09T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T18:02:49.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I will always remember and be grateful that you came into my life.</title><content type='html'>Dear John,&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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”.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friend,&lt;br /&gt;Mark Kishel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-771957158840474302?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/771957158840474302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-will-always-remember-and-be-grateful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/771957158840474302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/771957158840474302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-will-always-remember-and-be-grateful.html' title='I will always remember and be grateful that you came into my life.'/><author><name>MK's life and stuff</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03885818684467409629</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-8031344262549014687</id><published>2009-06-05T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T20:09:55.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chilean Horses,</title><content type='html'>John Austin contacted me several years ago when he ran into my web site and various articles I had written about the Chilean Horse. He and Jacqui had been in southern Chile during very rainy conditions and Jacqui felt so secure riding a Chilean Horse that John later wanted to inquire about buying one to ship up to his ranch. John would obviously do anything for the love of his life and being that Jacqui had a insecure feeling riding horses at the time, he thought nothing of bringing one from the other side of the world to help her conquer that fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several email exchanges, it became obvious that John wanted me to act as his agent in finding this special saddle horse in Chile. Since the transaction required a good deal of trust, he decided to come meet me and determine if we had the right chemistry between us. Incredibly, John flew out of San Francisco, to L.A., L,A to Houston, Houston to Santiago and Santiago to Iquique (Chile) only taking the necessary time to make his connections. Twenty some hours later he stayed in our house where we conversed late into the night. He got up early the next day and took a dip in our pool and then off we went to get to know the city of Iquique, the geoglyphs of Pintado, the Oasis of Pica, my Chilean Horses in the oasis of Esmeralda, a quick lunch and then back to the Iquique airport to make the same trip back to San Francisco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I was impressed. He definitely knew what he wanted, there was no doubt he was an intense person, he obviously was a good and quick judge of character and when he had a passion he pursued it enthusiastically. By the time all was said and done, he not only purchased the saddle horse for Jacqui, but also young mare in&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SincuInsppI/AAAAAAAAASA/_dAmldc31O8/s1600-h/Santa+Isabel+Talento+por+Condell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 210px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SincuInsppI/AAAAAAAAASA/_dAmldc31O8/s400/Santa+Isabel+Talento+por+Condell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344045117997885074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; training for the Chilean Rodeo, four broodmares in foal to excellent stallions and a gorgeous young stallion for the breeding operation in Utah. Only one other person had gotten involved with breeding Chilean Horses in the USA before and that was back in the 80's.  Nevertheless, the more we talked about the breed the more convinced he was that the Chilean Horses were going to be right at home in the Rockies. I think time has proven him right, as they have been a great source of enjoyment for John, Jacqui and many of their guests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a horseman and Professional Animal Scientist, it excited me to be able to be involved in this transaction of sending Chilean Horses to North America. However, as it turned out, the horses were simply the vehicle to a much better thing.  I went back to see the horses in Boulder several times where I had the pleasure of getting to know Jacqui and build closer ties with John.  Another year I was also able to visit John and Jacqui in their home in the Bay area. John and Jacqui invited my daughter Rochelle to their home and later to the BCC Ranch in Utah. On another occasion when my children (I have a son Rory also) and I were traveling throughout the west, we dropped in for yet another dose of Austin-Smalley hospitality in Boulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times I said to myself how happy I was that my children were able to have that experience of getting to know such special people and now more than ever, I know that the memory of John is etched in each one of us for life. What seemed like a interesting horse transaction, in fact developed into a wonderful friendship with one of the nicest couples I have ever run across. This gift in my life has no comparison with the satisfaction that came about through the common love for horses that made our paths cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John, just know that Rochelle, Rory and myself will always carry your memory close to our hearts. Jacqui, know that you have friends willing to help in any way, wherever we may be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randall Ray Arms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: The above picture is of 19 year old Talento (still competing). This Chilean Horse stallion has three times won the Championship of Chilean Rodeo. Only two other horses in history have done this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-8031344262549014687?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/8031344262549014687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/chilean-horses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8031344262549014687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8031344262549014687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/chilean-horses.html' title='Chilean Horses,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SincuInsppI/AAAAAAAAASA/_dAmldc31O8/s72-c/Santa+Isabel+Talento+por+Condell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1603436174268700539</id><published>2009-06-05T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T18:19:43.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Escalante River</title><content type='html'>It's been a hellish, surreal week. Boulder may be quiet, but not this kind of quiet. I can't imagine how life has been for all of you. And I can't possibly add to the beautiful and moving words and tributes of all the friends and family. What a rich, full, bountiful life of experiencing and giving and sharing that John led; to have so many deeply loving, deeply hurting people so affected by his departure.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made a little animita down at the site this morning: A ironstone piece from Mike and Gary's place as a base; flowers: globemallow, foxglove, indigo-colored penstemmon, scarlet corn poppy, and, of course, some of your yellow roses, Jacqui, all watered from the Escalante River; a horseshoe from the ranch (thanks, Abbe); and the tribute I wrote to John cut from yesterday's Insider. The raw pain of being in that spot, and unwelcome feelings of defiance and anger at the harshness and finality of the event were strangely softened on the trip home. Two soft, luminescent blobs of light evanesced over Thompson Ledge; they looked like sundogs, but weren't encircling the sun. Other people saw it too; some tourists had stopped on the road and were taking photos. The blobs coalesced into an iridescent, wavy band, then slowly dissipated. Along with my negative feelings. Only a sense of calm and peace remained. It was one of those magical and mysterious Boulder moments that I know John and Jacqui have experienced and loved. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If only I could transport a bit of that momentary sense of peace to you all. John would have loved it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1603436174268700539?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1603436174268700539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/escalante-river.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1603436174268700539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1603436174268700539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/escalante-river.html' title='Escalante River'/><author><name>Peg Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07631141096100022330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3875271461662698875</id><published>2009-06-05T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T21:36:37.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John, Bryce, Marcia, &amp; Eva</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQudyNwYI/AAAAAAAAARo/bIdPPmj4cHE/s1600-h/6.5.4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQudyNwYI/AAAAAAAAARo/bIdPPmj4cHE/s400/6.5.4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343961560795431298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQubkJMSI/AAAAAAAAARg/tgxzJs9CuAo/s1600-h/6.5.3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 361px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQubkJMSI/AAAAAAAAARg/tgxzJs9CuAo/s400/6.5.3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343961560199541026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQuGGmL-I/AAAAAAAAARY/miPqQOBjIf8/s1600-h/6.5.2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQuGGmL-I/AAAAAAAAARY/miPqQOBjIf8/s400/6.5.2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343961554438467554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQuL6fMxI/AAAAAAAAARQ/TsnuMNIqaEo/s1600-h/6.5.1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQuL6fMxI/AAAAAAAAARQ/TsnuMNIqaEo/s400/6.5.1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343961555998290706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3875271461662698875?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3875271461662698875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john_05.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3875271461662698875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3875271461662698875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john_05.html' title='John, Bryce, Marcia, &amp; Eva'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SimQudyNwYI/AAAAAAAAARo/bIdPPmj4cHE/s72-c/6.5.4.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3092172628224319841</id><published>2009-06-05T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T17:11:28.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photos of John</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimHWBUGwwI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0WnSPfgPUKs/s1600-h/B0001359.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimHWBUGwwI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0WnSPfgPUKs/s320/B0001359.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343951245231440642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In trying to come to grips with the loss of John I've been going through old photos.  They remind me of some of the many reasons that I liked and admired him so much.  He had a warmth and openness toward others, always including them in his enjoyment of life.  This is at his 60th birthday celebration in the barn in Boulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimU75kx54I/AAAAAAAAAGE/k2kH8i128a8/s1600-h/B0001415.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimU75kx54I/AAAAAAAAAGE/k2kH8i128a8/s320/B0001415.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343966189640083330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Food was always good and plentiful.  Here are Ed and John slicing pork or goat, I can't remember for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimLt9P-SpI/AAAAAAAAAFs/hfUn6rcLtL0/s1600-h/26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimLt9P-SpI/AAAAAAAAAFs/hfUn6rcLtL0/s320/26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343956054503738002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He and Jacqui were very generous in inviting others to share vacations with them. This photo is at Villa Los Frailes in Baha in 2003 sharing wine and stories with Ed, Belle, Jacqui, Cheryl, Kirsten and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimvAQCm8PI/AAAAAAAAAHU/3i73nggBD4o/s1600-h/P1080220_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimvAQCm8PI/AAAAAAAAAHU/3i73nggBD4o/s320/P1080220_edited.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343994851692572914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacqui and John are decked out to go for drinks  at the Hotel Bahia Los Frailes (2005).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimSezWeBnI/AAAAAAAAAF8/i3XwpMbY3ms/s1600-h/P1060032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimSezWeBnI/AAAAAAAAAF8/i3XwpMbY3ms/s320/P1060032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343963490729985650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;John was a hands-on guy.  It seems like he could do anything.   Here he is working on the irrigation in their alfalfa field (Boulder, 2005).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really enjoyed the outboard motor boat in Baja as well as the ATV to tow it around.  He loved to fish and to take others fishing with him.  This photo is from Feb 2003.  John has just navigated through the rocks by an excellent snorkeling beach. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimX6KihhHI/AAAAAAAAAGM/SZ1dAN7EHzY/s1600-h/16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimX6KihhHI/AAAAAAAAAGM/SZ1dAN7EHzY/s320/16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343969458369168498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next two photos are in 2006.&lt;br /&gt;John is pulling with the ATV while Mike and I push.  John had a way with equipment and an enjoyment of it.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimX6ZZAy2I/AAAAAAAAAGU/4rYnQswHors/s1600-h/Baja2006_095.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimX6ZZAy2I/AAAAAAAAAGU/4rYnQswHors/s320/Baja2006_095.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343969462355807074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheryl and John are headed out for early morning fishing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimX6vmNUjI/AAAAAAAAAGc/UXsoIIyjhOY/s1600-h/Baja2006_006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimX6vmNUjI/AAAAAAAAAGc/UXsoIIyjhOY/s320/Baja2006_006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343969468316734002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimeWksEkeI/AAAAAAAAAGk/1U-qDdMde-8/s1600-h/P1080138_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimeWksEkeI/AAAAAAAAAGk/1U-qDdMde-8/s320/P1080138_edited.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343976543494640098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some shots that show John at play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naomi and David are enjoying the sunrise while John appears to be trying to get Cochamo interested in the stick while Mouffetard looks on expectantly (Baja 2005).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John tries windsurfing and does remarkably well at it (Baja 2006).&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimelNJMVZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VM7KK_hhg6M/s1600-h/Baja2006_069.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimelNJMVZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VM7KK_hhg6M/s320/Baja2006_069.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343976794872370578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John boogie-boarding: he always caught the biggest waves (Baja 2005).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/Simey--eW1I/AAAAAAAAAG0/ClphTAiALvE/s1600-h/P1070998.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/Simey--eW1I/AAAAAAAAAG0/ClphTAiALvE/s320/P1070998.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343977031587486546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's one of John studying "Baja Catch" with Mouffetard sitting by (Baja 2006).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimnGqe2J9I/AAAAAAAAAG8/MhD3kvOEn2g/s1600-h/Baja2006_110.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimnGqe2J9I/AAAAAAAAAG8/MhD3kvOEn2g/s320/Baja2006_110.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343986165776525266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/Simn0F1WqlI/AAAAAAAAAHE/88K8zp-WniA/s1600-h/P1080465_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/Simn0F1WqlI/AAAAAAAAAHE/88K8zp-WniA/s320/P1080465_edited.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343986946212801106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;   Here is a photo of John walking down the beach at sunrise (Baja, 2005).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still can't believe that John is not coming back.  He has touched so many of us with his warmth and kindness.  We each keep a piece of him in our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3092172628224319841?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3092172628224319841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/photos-of-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3092172628224319841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3092172628224319841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/photos-of-john.html' title='Photos of John'/><author><name>Tom Trippe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05882406295499928814</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HBrUryIKmK4/SimHWBUGwwI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0WnSPfgPUKs/s72-c/B0001359.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2372664815674100940</id><published>2009-06-05T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T16:02:30.762-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='John'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Austin'/><title type='text'>My little brother John</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil0rPgty4I/AAAAAAAAIaM/K7OyV7FCX90/s1600-h/John.w.pup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil0rPgty4I/AAAAAAAAIaM/K7OyV7FCX90/s400/John.w.pup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343930719098751874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CNancy%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;link rel="Preview" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CNancy%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_preview.wmf"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;o:documentproperties&gt;   &lt;o:version&gt;12.00&lt;/o:Version&gt;  &lt;/o:DocumentProperties&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CNancy%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"&gt;&lt;link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CNancy%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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&lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0in; 	mso-para-margin-right:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Friends and Family,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;John was my little brother, eleven months younger. My mother told me we used to play together as toddlers under the kitchen table. We would drive our trucks under her feet. I was Sam, John was Mac. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As we grew older and sibling rivalry became a cruel reality I would taunt my little brother; he was a pest wanting to join our “girls only” club. We would put him through elaborate, mortifying initiation procedures only to deny him entrance into our club, his gender perpetually excluding him from membership. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil010lhORI/AAAAAAAAIaU/mXDNq7_MDLQ/s1600-h/John.w.Grandpa.Pole.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil010lhORI/AAAAAAAAIaU/mXDNq7_MDLQ/s400/John.w.Grandpa.Pole.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343930900849703186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;After he was given a BB gun for his 8&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/span&gt; birthday he used to shoot birds in our backyard. We had screaming, kicking, scratching and rolling on the ground fights when his endeavors ended in bird fatalities. John was a hunter from an early age.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As teenagers our battles became less physical and more psychological. I didn’t stand a chance. That acerbic wit for which he would become famous was honed in high school. He also became famous for pulling a prank on the principal, which involved borrowed blood from a laboratory and a faked injury arising from the principal swatting his butt with a paddle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He was a high school legend at 15.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As adults my “little” brother became my “big” brother. My advisor, my protector, the one the family called in an emergency. If there was one person I could depend on it was my brother. If there was one certainty in my life it was my brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;After my son Bryce and his wife &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Marcia moved to Oakland my brother and Jacqui welcomed them into their home and included them in their close circle of friends. My brother and Jacqui enriched their lives in so many ways. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;John encouraged Bryce to obtain his pilot’s license and included him on his annual abalone diving trips to Mendocino. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When John purchased the Storch he offered Bryce and his friend Brett, an experienced aerobatic pilot, the adventure of flying this WWII replica from the Midwest to Utah. It was an offer they couldn’t refuse and an exploit they will always remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Bryce and Marcia flew to Boulder often to spend time at the cabin with Jacqui and John.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It was the first place they took their new baby Eva to visit when she was only a few months old. It was also the first place I took my son to visit when he was only a few months old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil1R0SIFfI/AAAAAAAAIac/jxSA1faaxx4/s1600-h/John.Jacqui.Death.Hollow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 343px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil1R0SIFfI/AAAAAAAAIac/jxSA1faaxx4/s400/John.Jacqui.Death.Hollow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343931381804701170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;John was a very busy man - he created and ran his own multi-faceted empire. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He wanted to share the many blessings in his life with all of us and enrich all of our lives as well. We are all living testimony to how well he succeeded in that endeavor. I thought we would have more time together after he retired and moved to the ranch. We all did. Now we are left with memories. Thank you for sharing yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Nancy Breslin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil1dJNlIpI/AAAAAAAAIak/s8gBatyuFIw/s1600-h/John.Jacqui.Wedding.Day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil1dJNlIpI/AAAAAAAAIak/s8gBatyuFIw/s400/John.Jacqui.Wedding.Day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343931576401339026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2372664815674100940?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2372664815674100940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-little-brother-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2372664815674100940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2372664815674100940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-little-brother-john.html' title='My little brother John'/><author><name>Bryce Breslin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IKzzo5mrq7s/Sil0rPgty4I/AAAAAAAAIaM/K7OyV7FCX90/s72-c/John.w.pup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-222942773257554491</id><published>2009-06-04T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T20:35:22.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For John:</title><content type='html'>John will always hold a very special place in my heart. When my grandfather's  health was failing several years ago, it became apparent that keeping the ranch  in the family was not a possibility. Several enticing offers from developers  threatened to see one of the most beautiful places on the planet destroyed. John  will always be a hero in my eyes for preventing that from ever happening, and  working with my dad to ensure that our family will always have our own little  slice of heaven.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;In the week that has past since this tragedy I have read multiple articles  about John and Susan. I am impressed with the lives and accomplishments of these  two individuals. May their well-lived lives continue to be an inspiration to  others, and may the loved ones left behind find comfort and peace in knowing  that they passed doing something they loved. I can't think of a more beautiful  place to make the transition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie Flake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-222942773257554491?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/222942773257554491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/for-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/222942773257554491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/222942773257554491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/for-john.html' title='For John:'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-9194380604770464323</id><published>2009-06-04T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T20:31:35.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A message for John:</title><content type='html'>Missing you –&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John, you were such an amazing human being – truly, your presence was a gift to so many people.  You lived life so fully and with such an adventurous and inquisitive spirit I remain so inspired by you.  You believed in the fundamental talents of people and expected them to achieve great things.  You encouraged people to try harder, think differently and set a real example of embracing life and striving toward a greater level.  And, you always had ready an encouraging word or a funny story which seemed to just place things in their proper perspective.  You were young at heart and I will always remember you this way, along with your quiet intensity and genuine care for other people.  I miss you, John and I am privileged to have known you.  Peace to you and your family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heidi C. Sullivan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-9194380604770464323?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/9194380604770464323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/message-for-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/9194380604770464323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/9194380604770464323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/message-for-john.html' title='A message for John:'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-6986096920364648029</id><published>2009-06-04T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T08:48:00.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mis palabras para John:</title><content type='html'>Cuando en abril del 2003 John y Jacqui salieron a recibirme a mi llegada por primera vez a Oakland, jamás imaginé lo mucho que estos personajes cambiarían mi vida. A John y a Jacqui les debo gran parte de mi felicidad y éxito en los Estados Unidos. Gracias a ellos tuve la oportunidad de explorar el Área de la Bahía antes de convencer a mi marido a que nos mudáramos para allá. Más tarde, fueron ellos quienes nos ofrecieron un lugar perfectamente económico dentro de Rockridge, muy cerca de su casa.  Como si eso fuera poco, nos dieron una llave de su hogar y nos pidieron que nunca avisáramos antes de ir, pues ‘somos familia’.  John ofició nuestra ceremonia de matrimonio en Chile en 2004. Después de la ceremonia todos nos fuimos a la piscina y John desafió a quienes quisieran probar que podían cruzar la piscina de lado a lado sin  respirar. De cinco hombres que aceptaron el desafío – Bryce incluido – John fue el único que lo logró, ¡y reiteradas veces!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John fue para mí un gran amigo, un ejemplo y el mejor tío que pude haber tenido. Para él la familia era fundamental y junto a Jacqui se encargó de demostrarme cuán libre se puede ser entregando y amando. Sus enseñanzas exceden mis palabras y su legado es mucho más de lo que yo podría saber. John, siempre incondicional, me apoyó en los momentos más importantes: durante mi embarazo y en la maternidad. Nos hicimos cómplices al tomar café amargo en la noche, comer chocolate y tomar helado, y en la típica avena matinal. Me siento muy honrada de haber tenido parte de su tiempo y, sobre todo, de haber sido testigo de su inolvidable sonrisa. Lamentaré siempre que mi hija no tuviese más tiempo con él. Sin embargo, abrazaré con fuerza la imagen de sus manos gigantes, llenas de siembra, cargando a Eva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John yace ahora en cada uno de nosotros de manera diferente. Así era él, siempre versátil...y absolutamente enamorado de su mujer. Su dulzura se mantendrá fresca en mi sentir y haré todo lo posible por representarlo lo más fehacientemente posible a mi hija. Mi amor por John perdurará en el tiempo y se irá fortaleciendo a través de las muchas historias que compartiré con Eva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gracias, John, de todo corazón.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;And for those of you who didn't catch the love and tenderness of the above in Spanish, Marcia has kindly translated it for us below, though it can't quite capture the passion of the original:&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When John and Jacqui welcomed my arrival to Oakland for the first time in April, 2003, I never thought how much they would change my life. I owe to John and Jacqui a big part of my happiness and success in the U.S. Thanks to them, I had the opportunity to explore the Bay Area, before convincing my husband to move there. Later, they offered us a perfectly affordable place in Rockridge, very close to their own house. As if this wasn’t enough, they gave us a key to their home and asked us never to call before showing up at their place, ‘we are family,’ they said.&lt;br /&gt;John officiated our marriage ceremony in Chile in 2004. After the ceremony, we all went swimming at the pool. John challenged anyone who was willing to cross the swimming pool from side to side holding his breath. Of five people who accepted the challenge, (including Bryce and a young friend of his) he was the only one capable of doing it.&lt;br /&gt;For John family was fundamental. He and Jacqui have set an example for me of what true love means. John was for me a great friend and the best uncle I could ever have. His teachings exceed my words and his legacy is much more than I’ll ever know. John, always unconditional, gave me his support in the most important moments: during my pregnancy and maternity. We became accomplices drinking black coffee at night, eating chocolate and ice cream, and in our typical morning oatmeal. I feel honored for having had part of his time for me and, most importantly, for being witness to his unforgettable smile. I will always lament that my daughter did not have the chance to know him better. Yet, I will hold with strength the image of his huge hands, full of dirt from the garden, holding Eva. His kindness will stay fresh within me and I will do everything possible to truthfully convey his image to my daughter. My love for John will last throughout my time and it will become stronger through the many stories that I will share with Eva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcia  Cantillana&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-6986096920364648029?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/6986096920364648029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/mis-palabras-para-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6986096920364648029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6986096920364648029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/mis-palabras-para-john.html' title='Mis palabras para John:'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2036797906829960729</id><published>2009-06-04T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T20:07:57.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend; Brother; Mentor; Father to All:</title><content type='html'>As the news of your demise arrived, no one could believe it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Certainly no one wanted to because you were such a friend, mentor and supporter to all.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We who knew you well were fully aware of how thoughtful, careful and cautious you are – so the notion of a flying accident was beyond possible.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As we commiserated and lamented, the consistent themes were how you reached into each of us and touched us, stimulated us, challenged us, and always made us feel good about what we had done and still needed to do.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You always took the time to make kind and thoughtful observations.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You were always so deep in your considerations that everyone felt that exceptional level of notice and caring that was rarely provided anywhere else.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Many at Arcadian and its broader family considered you a father in your gentle, persistent, and uncompromising guidance.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You always made time to comment, compliment and remember something about everyone you encountered.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Having met thousands of leaders in my career, no one stands above you in the blend of extreme intelligence, visionary insight, kind consideration, breadth of knowledge and interests, balance of ethical and moral values, passion for life and love of people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To say you will be missed is an understatement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We now despair of not having you with us in our journey.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There was a confidence and comfort from knowing that you were always there to run some ideas or developments off of for rational perspective and grounded understanding of multiple implications&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;- or just calm us down, focus us on the positive and figure out how to work together.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not having that security blanket is scary and sad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Still, you have prepared us for the future without you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We did not want it this way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yet we know you must have been called on by our Maker to do the same thing you did with us – but now with some other lucky group.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Wherever your spirit is planted, you will help people thrive, be challenged, prosper and gel.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You have provided us with many gifts:&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;a strength, a sense of camaraderie, a common purpose, a burning desire to be excellent and to improve ourselves, enhance the world and help others, facing down adversity and inertia,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We are better for it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have always considered myself honored and privileged to work with you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is sad to know that we will not be speaking – but it is encouraging to know that there is a deep well of experiences and a perpetual spirit to draw on as we proceed and carry on – doing what you would want us to do.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We do love you and will be calling out to you frequently.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;We will be glad to take care of your other friends and lovely wife Jacqui &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;– any way possible.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Good bye for now, my friend, colleague and teacher.&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;From your admirer, &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Les Granow&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2036797906829960729?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2036797906829960729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/friend-brother-mentor-father-to-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2036797906829960729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2036797906829960729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/friend-brother-mentor-father-to-all.html' title='Friend; Brother; Mentor; Father to All:'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1938288461773977520</id><published>2009-06-04T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T09:42:06.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A deeply felt loss for Boulder, Utah</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Even though we have been acquainted for a few years, my wife and I were just in the process of getting to know John and Jacqui much better over this past couple of years in Boulder, Utah.  They were in Boulder more often developing the ranch and building their new home.  Last years primary season gave us a lot to talk about.  They were keen supporters of our 3 year old Boulder Community Alliance and Jacqui had just joined the Board in anticipation of moving to Boulder and assuming a strong role in our conservation and community stewardship programs.  Two of our key leaders in BCA, Tim Clarke and Peg Smith, were very good friends of John and Jacqui's.  Peg wrote a piece for our county weekly newspaper that sums up better than I ever could just what an accomplished and generous man John Austin was and how deeply his loss will be felt here in our small Boulder community and far beyond. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Garfield County (Utah) Insider by Peg Smith&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond; min-height: 12.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Some pass through the veil with a small sigh and a slight shuffling of the cosmic furniture. The sudden passing of John Austin, of Boulder, UT, and Susan Jordan, of Ukiah, CA, was a thunderclap, followed by the long, low rumbling of the cosmos pouring into a major void.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;John H. Austin, M.D., ranch owner, pilot, prodigious businessman, and new retiree, died on May 29 along with a longtime friend, Susan Jordan, as they spent their last moments here doing two things both loved doing: flying and touring through spectacular canyon scenery. John’s wife, Jacqui Smalley, and Susan’s husband, Ronnie Wong, were waiting for their return at the Boulder ranch when they received the devastating news of the plane crash. Susan, a prominent L.A. attorney and also a pilot, had flown the couple’s Mooney from L.A. to the Bryce Valley airport to spend a week with John and Jacqui. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The plane John and Susan were flying in Friday morning, a two-seater Storch, was a plane John had procured years earlier for the purpose of locating straying cattle and sightseeing through the area. Unlike his Cessna, which John and Jacqui used to commute from Oakland to Boulder, the Storch was strictly a touring plane, specifically intended for low, slow flight. While John’s occasional Storch tours over the Boulder area raised a few eyebrows, those who have been on the receiving end of such a tour are forever grateful and in awe of that spectacular perspective. John was a careful pilot, meticulous in his care of the plane and his passengers. He welcomed any opportunity to take a visitor or a resident up for a ride, in either plane. In years past, John took schoolchildren on short plane tours as rewards for their schoolwork---a memorable part of Boulder childhood for many now-adults. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;After his mother bought the house on Hwy 12, John has been coming to Boulder since he was 16 years old, spending summers riding, swimming, exploring, and working on various local ranches. In 2003, he acquired what is now Boulder Creek Canyon Ranch, originally part of the old Haws ranch, and put the 300-acre parcel under conservation easement, enabling the continuation of a working ranch while protecting the land from future development. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Although saving the viewshed of that incredible Boulder property was in itself a great gift to all of Boulder, John’s accomplishments and generosity extend far beyond. For years, John and Jacqui have sponsored a Libri grant to the Boulder Community Library for acquisition of new children’s books. They founded the Boulder-Escalante Scholarship Foundation in 2005, which has helped fund college educations for several area graduates. Last winter, John bought flu vaccine for whomever wanted to get flu shots locally, and he and Chyleen Mackay, an R.N. inoculated a small line-up of people. John and Jacqui were generous supporters of the nascent Boulder Community Alliance, a local nonprofit group that sponsors a wide range of community projects. And besides financial generosity, John would be the first to volunteer his time, his expertise, or his equipment whenever someone had a need. He wasn’t a person to hold back if he thought he could render assistance, and with his plane, his medical background, and his connections, he often did that, quietly and privately, for more people than most of us will ever be aware of. He was so much looking forward to his retirement, living in his new house with Jacqui, working on and managing his ranch, and getting even more involved in local projects.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;To see John working around his ranch or chatting with neighbors, one would never imagine his “other self” as a high-powered Oakland businessman, working in the highest echelons of the medical insurance industry. John was founder, Executive Chairman and Chief Medical Officer of Arcadian Management Services in Oakland. Prior to founding Arcadian, John had occupied executive positions with many other medical-related businesses, including President and CEO of UniMed, a physician management company based in Southern California; Executive Vice President for Health Plan of America, a California HMO; Chief Operating Officer of HealthAmerica a Nashville-based HMO; Chairman of the Board and current Board member of Coventry Health Care. He received his M.D. degree from the University of California in San Francisco, in 1970, a Masters in Public Health from Harvard University in 1972, and was Board Certified in Internal Medicine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Garamond"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;To say John Austin’s departure leaves a void is such an understatement. Part of the grief is knowing that people who barely knew him will now never get the chance to know him better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1938288461773977520?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1938288461773977520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/deeply-felt-loss-for-boulder-utah.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1938288461773977520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1938288461773977520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/deeply-felt-loss-for-boulder-utah.html' title='A deeply felt loss for Boulder, Utah'/><author><name>Curtis Oberhansly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03169323841629920411</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1857879520469465279</id><published>2009-06-04T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T14:33:36.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JOHN</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;(Saturday, May 30.)  Hi all-  just a reflection on this horrid event, and its place in all our lives.  I was frankly surprised at the intensity of my reaction to the news of john's passing, and its effect on my world. His generosity and calm demeanor, counterbalanced with the sardonic wit and a disdain for those working in opposition to the moral right direction, endeared him to many, i'm sure. I know these qualities endeared him deeply to me.  I will miss profoundly the acerbic political wit, dinners, banter in the living room, the nine p.m. fadeout, all the qualities that pass unnoticed but are keenly felt and loved. We all can feel the incredible, incalculable loss to our Jacqui, and the pain and sadness that must now abound within her heart.  we are and should be her fortress, the shale upon which she can chip away if she needs or wishes, receptacles for whatever needs to be placed or thrown or hammerred or shrieked into if necessary.  I have offered myself, and do so again for whatever she needs from here on in. For she is the completion of the puzzle, the yin to the yang, a perfect fit that allowed this entity we know as johnnjacqui, jacqui an john, to thrive and infect our universe with love and friendship.  I cried last night for the first time in a long while, I wept for the loss, and futility, the waste, and the knowledge that he probably accepted the end as he had the life before it; with dignity and clear-eyed knowledge that he had done his best.  Please accept this note, my friends, as a cry in the night, a lament, and also a celebration and illumination of our dear dear john Austin.  Good night and good luck, john.    Goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1857879520469465279?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1857879520469465279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john-n-jacqui.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1857879520469465279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1857879520469465279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john-n-jacqui.html' title='JOHN'/><author><name>elliott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17270269720518857663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-7080281594448601893</id><published>2009-06-04T07:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T07:56:37.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Jacqui and John -</title><content type='html'>I stepped into a new, exciting, and very challenging career several years ago--a step that proved momentous in both my personal and professional growth--and both of you were there from the very, very beginning. Jacqui, you know exactly what I mean. You both believed in me, put your faith in me, encouraged me, bolstered me, mentored me, inspired me. You have shared your time, talents, and energy with infinite generosity, and I cannot thank you enough. I watched you, Jacqui, pour yourself into our organization in every way possible: tirelessly embracing the necessary tasks; continually stepping up to lead new and daunting efforts; leading us all in your quiet, confident way; and never wavering from your wise vision of what we could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John was a mentor to me, and I so regret that I did not know him yet better. I am very grateful for the time and wisdom he was willing to share with me. I remember once when I was faced with some difficult decisions, he took me to lunch, he listened, and he helped me see clearly how best to lead. And he made it seem so easy. I remain grateful for his wisdom, clarity, compassion, and strength. I deeply admire the way John lived his life--from the career choices he made as a physician and a health-care provider, to the social causes he embraced, to his commitment to conservation...and, of course, his love of horses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacqui, the same things are true of you. You are a tremendous conservationist and advocate, a visionary, an admirable leader, a beautiful spirit, and a wonderful friend. Thank you for your belief in me, and for all of the beauty and strength you share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart aches for you. And as I read others' postings about John, I see yet more how very lucky you both were to have found each other and to have shared so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are both an inspiration to us all--in your careers, in your values, in your lives. You have touched my life deeply. I hope my life can reflect some of the generosity, commitment and beauty that have permeated yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Elizabeth&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-7080281594448601893?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/7080281594448601893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-jacqui-and-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7080281594448601893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7080281594448601893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-jacqui-and-john.html' title='Dear Jacqui and John -'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2391815562105185744</id><published>2009-06-04T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T07:48:53.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The man knew how to live</title><content type='html'>The man knew how to live, and knowing how to live does not mean seeking out the costliest or most extravagant things in life. Knowing how to live means finding those things, places and people that are perhaps a bit outside the mainstream, but are unique and wonderful. I suppose that's obvious to anyone who counted John as a friend, but to me it is a rare talent, and&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;his ability to share that talent with others is rarer still.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here is a small example. I first met John in 1984 when he was recruited to be a senior officer at HealthAmerica Corporation. I was running an HMO in Lincoln, NE but had also taken on some additional responsibilities for the company, including helping out a number of start-up plans. One of those plans was in Arizona, a welcome destination for someone living in Nebraska when subzero winds howl down the northern plains. My first trip to Phoenix, I stayed at a typical chain hotel, not really paying much attention to anything other than work, simply happy to feel warm. Before my second trip, I met with John on a variety of matters, including the Phoenix plan. During our dinner conversation, he told me about the place he stayed at in Phoenix, and I decided to give it a try.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was the Royal Palms hotel, on Camelback Road. But it wasn't the Royal Palms of today, a diamond class resort. It was the Royal Palms of the past. It had been built in the 1920s as a private estate, and converted into a hotel by the 1940s. The Royal Palms was a destination for the rich and famous, including Hollywood celebrities of the time. A wonderful place in the mid-century. John told me there were stories of a beautiful actress cavorting in the hotel's pool (bringing to mind W. C. Field's joke about why he doesn't drink water). Glamorous in the 1950s, but by 1984, it had gone to seed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I arrived late in the evening, turning into a drive lined with, naturally, Royal Palms. Stucco hacienda-style buildings wound around curving drives. My room was in such a building, and while it was pretty worn, it was also well built and comfortable. Driving out to the plan the next morning, I was struck by how run down the place looked, how the peeling stucco really was peeling and not done deliberately for atmosphere. I began to question seriously John's judgment. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Returning later that evening, I headed down to the infamous pool. It was small, secluded by plantings, and most astonishing: it was heart shaped. I just stopped and stared at it for several seconds. It was deserted, as was the hotel in fact, making it easy to imagine the beautiful actress in the grip of l' amour. It was also the coldest water I've ever experienced in a hotel pool; it very literally chilled me out, something I sorely needed but for which I was (and am) temperamentally ill fit. The pool was so unusual that I remember it vividly even today, and when was the last time you have been able to say that about a hotel pool?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Soon I began to relax and open up to the experience. The view of Camelback Mountain was spectacular and unobstructed. The hotel was quiet and peaceful, despite being just off Camelback Road between Phoenix and Scottsdale. And the charm of the place, even worn down, was still in ample supply. Not merely a hotel, but a window in time - not a reconstructed ambience a la Disney, but the real thing. It remains in my memory as one of the most enjoyable stays I've experienced, something unexpected and wonderful. I went back every time I traveled to Phoenix for HealthAmerica. (The Royal Palms was completely renovated in the mid-1990s and is once again an ultra-high end resort: http://www.royalpalmshotel.com/historic-hotels-phoenix.php. It appears that the heart shaped pool is now be gone). &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;John knew how to find those kinds of places everywhere. He gave me ideas about places to go in California and elsewhere, knew the best places to dine that were not the usual suspects, and let us use his place in Utah for a week back in the 80's. The last time I saw John was a year ago when he was in Oakland on business (Jacqui was in Utah). Emily and I met him at a small, rustic French place in a slightly run down section of San Francisco; only locals were there and the food was excellent. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The man knew how to live. I always envied that, but he was generous about it and I was privileged to get to experience it, every so often, as his friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Peter  Kongstvedt&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2391815562105185744?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2391815562105185744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/man-knew-how-to-live.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2391815562105185744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2391815562105185744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/man-knew-how-to-live.html' title='The man knew how to live'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-7483856949865933720</id><published>2009-06-03T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T11:27:49.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John,</title><content type='html'>We've lost a dear friend and I hope someone will speak of the specifics of what John accomplished as a conservationist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John and I last met at Piano Due in New York. While sharing tasty food and drink, I was infatuated and infected by both John and Jacqui’s zest for life and love of adventure.  I returned home scrounging around for all my forgotten Rick Bass books, while wondering if I could possibly pull off a Red Baron look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect John didn’t spend much time worrying about dying because living was too much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ira N. Gottlieb&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-7483856949865933720?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/7483856949865933720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john_03.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7483856949865933720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7483856949865933720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john_03.html' title='John,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-63480270349517130</id><published>2009-06-03T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T13:25:03.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE RANCH</title><content type='html'>The humor of John Austin&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What always struck me about John’s humor was his mastery of the understatement. There were times I would be sitting around letting my mind run, and I would clearly see what John had casually dropped some months previous.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The situation that I laughed the hardest at took place in the old Boulder cabin, sometime around the summer of 1974. John, at the time, was the doctor for an institute/ranch that was situated in Deer Creek; a valley just east of Boulder. This institute attempted to provide a life for some very different and wounded people. The entire program was under the guidance of Stanley Standal, a Psychiatrist from the University of Chicago. Standal had asked John to give all of the patients/kids a full physical to fulfill a requirement for the State of Utah.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The folks from the ranch started showing up at the cabin and I couldn’t help but notice one particular fellow. He stood about 6ft 8in and looking at the amount of muscle he carried had probably spent a good amount of time, in prison, lifting ungodly amounts of weights. He was also the trend setter for the gothic movement. Everything that he had on was as black as black could get including a strange looking hat that covered his eyes. I didn’t realize it at the time but there was a reason for this. With him was a young woman that he was very attached to. What I mean by attached, is he never let her out of his arms! The message that he sent was very clear and unambiguous…“This woman is mine; look at, touch, smile at or even think about her and you are mine!”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When her time came for the physical they walked over to the old steps, John was sitting there waiting on them. She was extremely reluctant to have the physical. John gently took her by the arm and started to lead her away from her boyfriend and into the kitchen that had been converted into a patient’s room.  I was sitting on those same steps and I heard the boyfriend speak. “Noooooooooo…I am going to stay with her!”  I was able to see under the hat brim and into his eyes for the first time and I was in very unfamiliar territory. This man was clearly dealing with fury issues locked together with many other demons. As I saw it, John was about to give a complete physical, to a young woman, that could get very dangerous with this ultra jealous, insane man. I knew John had a good bedside manner but was he this good?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next twenty minutes felt like we were all sitting on a powder keg. All I could hear coming out of the kitchen were murmurings and John’s reassuring voice, saying things, I thought to her, like “Are you okay?” “Is this alright?” “I’m going to do this next.” When the physical was over the birds once again returned to song, and John came out of the kitchen and sat next to me on the steps. He was drained.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I asked, “How did you do that and come out alive?”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;John’s answer was…“Carefully, and with a great deal of consultation.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David Breslin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-63480270349517130?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/63480270349517130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/ranch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/63480270349517130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/63480270349517130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/ranch.html' title='THE RANCH'/><author><name>David Breslin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06193806482924534686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2496657657511104231</id><published>2009-06-03T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T14:05:58.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear John and Jacqui-</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="TextRegular"&gt;You should know&lt;br /&gt;- your love has inspired me to seek and find only the best partner for my life no matter how long the discovering process. This is because through you i see it is possible to forge a shared dream out of work and devotion and creativity and passion and never to let it go until it takes flight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- your life has encouraged me to be an individual no matter what and to fight for what i believe in with every fiber of my being,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- your courage has challenged me to take the even the great risks that beguile me from in the furthest flung corners of my imagination&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because your example teaches me that- when risks are taken out of love and curiosity in a search for growth and connection- the greatest joys and most amazing rewards can fill both our lives and spirits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- your quiet boundless generosity is a life giver, is what you together created and in a sense gave birth to, that what lives on from two people creating together goes far beyond the limited definition of progeny or offspring. From you I have learned that offspring is that which springs from us all and rushes out into the world. This boosts my faith that I, in choosing the same path of creating offspring in a nontraditional way, am not alone or lacking in any way- thank you !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Your goodness and impact on so so many people without having to proclaim or label yourselves Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, or any of the above validate me and my belief that without religion one can be incredibly soulful and spirited and inspired by the grace of life and beauty without a mold. That one can create a completely unique and fully realized path in life sans dogma or a guidebook or a prophet. That choosing to do so allows us to be accepting and respectful of all faiths without bias toward one or another. That doing so allows us to live wide open to the mystery of life and death and to welcome and tolerate all the ecstasy and agony that comes with it&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="TextSubTitleItalic"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shayna Breslin (South Bend, IN)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2496657657511104231?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2496657657511104231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-john-and-jacqui.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2496657657511104231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2496657657511104231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-john-and-jacqui.html' title='Dear John and Jacqui-'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-6021949279871497345</id><published>2009-06-02T14:02:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T14:12:55.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tennessee Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWTzEwHTOI/AAAAAAAAABs/lAD9N51syq0/s1600-h/105-0503_CRW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWTzEwHTOI/AAAAAAAAABs/lAD9N51syq0/s320/105-0503_CRW.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342839038603119842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;It’s now been four days since I heard about John’s death. The confusion and numbness has begun to wear off a bit and as it wears, what is starting to be revealed to me is the metal underneath—just how strong and honest his life really was. We always think of the parts of a life, and not the whole, but death helps us brush aside the superficial and see what someone really did with their time on this earth. In John’s case, what a masterpiece! Jacqui: his friends here in Tennessee are giving him a standing ovation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;John was always alive. He was a doctor, and a very good one. He was a businessman and an entrepreneur, a husband who obviously loved Jacqui very much, a skier, a hunter, a conservationist, a rancher, a pilot, a wine lover, a loyal friend. He always seemed to me to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doing&lt;/span&gt; something.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We worked together in Tennessee in the 1980s, but I really got to know him better in the years after that, when he had moved back to California. He and Jacqui would sometimes join our family trips to the slopes, and I always loved skiing with him. He was smooth and controlled, and unlike Stryker and me, he just looked good working his way through the bumps, flexing his knees and moving up and down just like you were supposed to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWUUaKwLvI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OI3tq4hg4Ts/s1600-h/Texas+Dec07-1182.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWUUaKwLvI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OI3tq4hg4Ts/s320/Texas+Dec07-1182.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342839611287678706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;The only conflicts came when it came time to select a movie to watch after supper; most of us, and especially the teenagers, wanted something with lasers or swords or car chases. John and Jacqui definitely preferred something foreign, obscure or better yet impenetrable, ideally with subtitles. We only let them choose once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;John was a great conservationist and also an avid hunter; he loved our land and all the relationships you could have with it. Four of us, John, Stryker Warren, Pete Sain, and I made trips to New Mexico, to Texas, to Colorado and Wyoming to hunt deer, antelope and elk over the last decade and a half. He was a perfect companion; a fine hunter but one for whom a day in the desert was a wonderful thing independent of whether he was successful in bagging game. He loved to eat wild game, and was monomaniacal about wrapping and preserving it appropriately so that he could get it safely home It occurred to me at one point that he wasn’t interested in trophies, he was interested in food! When he came to Pete’s place in Texas to deer hunt each fall, John would make a pre-trip to a Bay-area fish market, and bring fresh salmon, Dungeness crabs, and whatever else he thought would be a great luxury at a camp in the South Texas desert.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWUncMb24I/AAAAAAAAAB8/l6mgto8aqUc/s1600-h/Four+Hunters+with+Martini+US+IMG_0382-Edit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWUncMb24I/AAAAAAAAAB8/l6mgto8aqUc/s320/Four+Hunters+with+Martini+US+IMG_0382-Edit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342839938249120642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;As always, it was the social times together on those trips that were the best part. None of us are big drinkers, but somehow the tradition got started that we started off each trip with a martini in camp. It was not a hard liquor crowd, but we all loved wine, and had some fine glasses to go with the conversation in a lot of camps throughout the west. Because of our mutual interest in health care, John and I would talk a lot about what was going on, and I have to say we solved many of America’s health care problems, not to mention the war in the Middle East, around campfires in Texas and New Mexico.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I valued John’s friendship very much, and will remember those trips together as something really good in my own life. John lived an active, creative, involved life, and left everything better for his having touched it. I don’t know that I could give a higher accolade. His life was already long, but not nearly long enough, and he should have had a couple more decades of time with Jacqui, with his ranch, with his horses, with his friends, and yes, with his flying.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not know Susan Jordan, who perished with him. I feel sure as a friend of John and Jacqui’s she was a person of great character and rich history, and I ask us all to keep her and her family also in our thoughts and prayers as we mourn John. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t remember ever having discussed the author Jack London with John Austin, but I feel confident that John was an admirer of his life and work. I’ll let Jack have the last word:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWUxRuMXmI/AAAAAAAAACE/5nqibXgravU/s1600-h/John+Austin+in+Old+Ford+DSC_2213.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWUxRuMXmI/AAAAAAAAACE/5nqibXgravU/s320/John+Austin+in+Old+Ford+DSC_2213.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342840107236613730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; would rather be a meteor, every atom of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;me in magnificent glow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;than a sleepy and permanent planet.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The proper function of a man is&lt;br /&gt;to live,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;not to exist.&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall not waste my days&lt;br /&gt;in trying to&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;prolong them.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall use my time.&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John did use his time, rest in peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-6021949279871497345?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/6021949279871497345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/tennessee-friends.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6021949279871497345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6021949279871497345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/tennessee-friends.html' title='Tennessee Friends'/><author><name>Phil Bredesen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11451131476323030798</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OoFrpNUYDJA/SiWTzEwHTOI/AAAAAAAAABs/lAD9N51syq0/s72-c/105-0503_CRW.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-8160909656924343322</id><published>2009-06-01T21:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T10:09:54.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John:</title><content type='html'>&lt;dl id="comments-block"&gt;&lt;dt class="comment-author anon-comment-icon" id="c3454671924533294702"&gt; You listened intently and offered sage advice; your encouragement was so sincere; you led with a kind hand and constructive criticism; your praise was reflective and meaningful; you were unassuming but the first most of us turned to; you led by example; your medical suggestions and advice were spot-on; your home so warm. . . always available; your gardens so inviting; the meals you and Jacqui prepared so interesting; your desires for a better world so well thought-out; your political commitments clear; I learned about silent films from you; we hunted, skiied, dived, hiked and flew together; I ran in the Oakland and Berkeley hills with you; you jumped in at mile 16 to help me finish my first marathon; you insisted I read your selection of books for my own good. . . and you were right; you loved my mother and always asked about her. . . you consoled me when I traveled west to eulogize her in January; we flew many places together in your plane. . . Zion and Bryce at sunset were surreal when we flew to Boulder from Santa Monica; I remember when you rented a small office in Berkeley in 1982 and told me about the lady who transcribed your dictation. . . with her you swapped audio tapes, books and notes; one day the two of you met and several years later you married Jacqui; many--like I--continue to marvel at your 60th birthday celebration on the ranch in Boulder; how I longed for your 65th; abalone, Chardonnay, and squash blossoms; cappucino in the morning at Ross Street; your patients at Rockridge revered you, the staff looked to you for leadership; my children looked up to you; every friend I introduced was mesmerized by the stories, the comments, the observations, the wit, the wry humor; you made each whom you touched better; we met in 1976 but it seems as though it was only yesterday and there are so many more questions I have that I wish for you to answer; you made each of us feel special, but it was clear the person whom you sought out was Jacqui; so often you'd call home when we traveled and the affection was so evident, the connection was so clear. John, you were a best friend, a mentor, a confidante, a role model, a constructive critic and a big brother. The hole you have left is immense, but I feel so fortunate to have known you, learned from you, and loved you. You taught us well, and if permitted, we shall all endeavor to help Miss Jacqui, your "Sweety". Godspeed to you John.&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;swarren&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-8160909656924343322?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/8160909656924343322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john-you-listened-intently-and-offered.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8160909656924343322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8160909656924343322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john-you-listened-intently-and-offered.html' title='John:'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-3512203696763737921</id><published>2009-06-01T21:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T21:04:52.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2005 in Cabo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSksXUxmVI/AAAAAAAAAQs/dlvUoBrbm1E/s1600-h/Baja+2005+-+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSksXUxmVI/AAAAAAAAAQs/dlvUoBrbm1E/s320/Baja+2005+-+060.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342576140050602322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSkr0ydVRI/AAAAAAAAAQk/VutYbCM42og/s1600-h/Baja+2005+-+084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSkr0ydVRI/AAAAAAAAAQk/VutYbCM42og/s320/Baja+2005+-+084.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342576130779862290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSkrnmz6lI/AAAAAAAAAQc/-VZ4RkkvCF8/s1600-h/Baja+2005+-+063.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSkrnmz6lI/AAAAAAAAAQc/-VZ4RkkvCF8/s320/Baja+2005+-+063.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342576127241349714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-3512203696763737921?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/3512203696763737921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/2005-in-cabo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3512203696763737921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/3512203696763737921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/2005-in-cabo.html' title='2005 in Cabo'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSksXUxmVI/AAAAAAAAAQs/dlvUoBrbm1E/s72-c/Baja+2005+-+060.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1157090759876501156</id><published>2009-06-01T20:19:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T10:02:53.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John and their horses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSebm5fkzI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ony7hTsDa8A/s1600-h/BCCRanch026+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSebm5fkzI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ony7hTsDa8A/s320/BCCRanch026+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342569255103599410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSebUkGmSI/AAAAAAAAAQM/OfbXo0CL5FQ/s1600-h/IMG_8192+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSebUkGmSI/AAAAAAAAAQM/OfbXo0CL5FQ/s320/IMG_8192+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342569250182043938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiScA7tglxI/AAAAAAAAAP0/d-JzCKd8kP8/s1600-h/PICT9655+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiScA7tglxI/AAAAAAAAAP0/d-JzCKd8kP8/s320/PICT9655+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342566597810755346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiScAphIaDI/AAAAAAAAAPs/yL8B8JHMGWk/s1600-h/PICT9233+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiScAphIaDI/AAAAAAAAAPs/yL8B8JHMGWk/s320/PICT9233+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342566592927000626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Self explanatory. A few more wonderful pix from Kirsten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's still almost impossible for me to realize he's gone. My mind knows it and my heart just refuses to believe it.  John, if you only knew how much you are missed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1157090759876501156?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1157090759876501156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john-and-their-horses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1157090759876501156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1157090759876501156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john-and-their-horses.html' title='John and their horses'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiSebm5fkzI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ony7hTsDa8A/s72-c/BCCRanch026+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1520148768155148112</id><published>2009-06-01T13:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T10:03:47.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear dear John,</title><content type='html'>Few like you ever grace most of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many lives did you touch? Thousands and thousands. How generous were you to all of us, with time and advice and sympathy and money and good will and plain old help? How many new places did you take us? How many of us did you shepherd through our transitions into and through adulthood? How good a friend were you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How immeasurably poorer all of us would be without having known you. It's hard to imagine our lives without you. There's a big hole left; we're trying to fill it with memories and shared experiences. If only you could be back for a second, just long enough for us to say this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye, John,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gretchen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1520148768155148112?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1520148768155148112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-dear-john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1520148768155148112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1520148768155148112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-dear-john.html' title='Dear dear John,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-6460765144154637693</id><published>2009-06-01T11:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T10:04:48.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Friend,</title><content type='html'>My wife, Scotty Mitchell, and I first met you and Jacqui 12 years ago at the Colby Street house. You had previously contacted Scotty in Crete to buy two of her Boulder pastel landscapes from the Boulder Mountain Lodge, offering us a month's vacation stay at your Boulder home. You gave us a warm, friendly welcome from the first meeting. You were renovating the Ross Street house and offered me the opportunity to design the garden. You loved the concept from the beginning and gave me free rein to evolve it into a showpiece project. Your enthusiasm and encouragement continued throughout, as we together created a 'historic' garden befitting the 1905 Arts and Crafts house itself. You provided a workspace for me, you met me from the airport, Jacqui loaned me her car, you included me in your home and circle of friends. Your friendship and generosity continued as I worked on other Bay Area landscape designs during the following years - always making your home my home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we started to settle into Boulder, you chose us as your neighbors, selling us an acre of land, and encouraging us a we built our house.&lt;br /&gt;More recently we have continued our collaboration as I designed the landscape for your new home in Boulder. It's always been a pleasure and privilege to work with you - the perfect client ! And all the great meals and company we've shared together over the years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As executive director of Boulder Community Foundation during the past 3 years, your support of our community and conservation efforts has been a mainstay of my,and our, work. Again, generosity, encouragement and friendship are the key words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever the gentleman, tireless worker, creative thinker, keen gardener, lover of life and nature, great friend, and celebrator of humor - even appreciating my Monty Python wackiness ! ("Jolly good show", as you quipped in reference to me only a few days ago.)&lt;br /&gt;My 12 years  in Boulder are streaked through and through with the veins of gold of you and Jacqui.&lt;br /&gt;My lasting gratitude and love to you both.&lt;br /&gt;I will miss you, John, and will always cherish the memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Thank you, Kirsten, for the wonderful photos.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim Clarke&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-6460765144154637693?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/6460765144154637693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6460765144154637693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/6460765144154637693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-friend.html' title='Dear Friend,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-8069586365049047184</id><published>2009-05-31T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:57:24.593-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNfnKxIqII/AAAAAAAAACQ/7UL8Dbc93KQ/s1600-h/IMG_5371.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNfnKxIqII/AAAAAAAAACQ/7UL8Dbc93KQ/s320/IMG_5371.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342218709501520002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-8069586365049047184?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/8069586365049047184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_8505.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8069586365049047184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8069586365049047184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_8505.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNfnKxIqII/AAAAAAAAACQ/7UL8Dbc93KQ/s72-c/IMG_5371.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-8083130935197101673</id><published>2009-05-31T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:50:09.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNd7h6d9nI/AAAAAAAAACI/3PDpZkxqwqk/s1600-h/BCCRanch022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNd7h6d9nI/AAAAAAAAACI/3PDpZkxqwqk/s320/BCCRanch022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342216860288808562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-8083130935197101673?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/8083130935197101673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_4962.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8083130935197101673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/8083130935197101673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_4962.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNd7h6d9nI/AAAAAAAAACI/3PDpZkxqwqk/s72-c/BCCRanch022.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-14487801439526533</id><published>2009-05-31T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:47:32.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNdP0yfCWI/AAAAAAAAACA/h3vebI9rHzY/s1600-h/IMG_6243.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNdP0yfCWI/AAAAAAAAACA/h3vebI9rHzY/s320/IMG_6243.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342216109441354082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-14487801439526533?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/14487801439526533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_2932.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/14487801439526533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/14487801439526533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_2932.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNdP0yfCWI/AAAAAAAAACA/h3vebI9rHzY/s72-c/IMG_6243.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2475004571270834104</id><published>2009-05-31T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:45:37.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNc5usR5kI/AAAAAAAAAB4/IwtN9Bdy7zU/s1600-h/Baja2006_136.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNc5usR5kI/AAAAAAAAAB4/IwtN9Bdy7zU/s320/Baja2006_136.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342215729847592514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2475004571270834104?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2475004571270834104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_1876.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2475004571270834104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2475004571270834104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_1876.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNc5usR5kI/AAAAAAAAAB4/IwtN9Bdy7zU/s72-c/Baja2006_136.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-197920623925250441</id><published>2009-05-31T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:44:12.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNclJQjJ5I/AAAAAAAAABw/2e1CEFv0aFE/s1600-h/FH000003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 195px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNclJQjJ5I/AAAAAAAAABw/2e1CEFv0aFE/s320/FH000003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342215376201787282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-197920623925250441?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/197920623925250441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_3623.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/197920623925250441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/197920623925250441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_3623.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNclJQjJ5I/AAAAAAAAABw/2e1CEFv0aFE/s72-c/FH000003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-7056767018474677990</id><published>2009-05-31T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:41:58.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNcD6cDsSI/AAAAAAAAABo/OBE5qm13VPo/s1600-h/Baja2006_143.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNcD6cDsSI/AAAAAAAAABo/OBE5qm13VPo/s320/Baja2006_143.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342214805287842082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-7056767018474677990?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/7056767018474677990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_6665.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7056767018474677990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7056767018474677990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_6665.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNcD6cDsSI/AAAAAAAAABo/OBE5qm13VPo/s72-c/Baja2006_143.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-7277822948500660013</id><published>2009-05-31T21:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:39:56.492-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNblCTdlwI/AAAAAAAAABg/aXT_FtIjeF0/s1600-h/BCCRanch046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNblCTdlwI/AAAAAAAAABg/aXT_FtIjeF0/s320/BCCRanch046.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342214274823329538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-7277822948500660013?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/7277822948500660013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_5003.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7277822948500660013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7277822948500660013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_5003.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNblCTdlwI/AAAAAAAAABg/aXT_FtIjeF0/s72-c/BCCRanch046.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2734091087001929728</id><published>2009-05-31T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:38:43.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNbSdoH5AI/AAAAAAAAABY/FtjjBy-YEVc/s1600-h/PICT9548.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNbSdoH5AI/AAAAAAAAABY/FtjjBy-YEVc/s320/PICT9548.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342213955740230658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2734091087001929728?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2734091087001929728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_4312.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2734091087001929728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2734091087001929728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_4312.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNbSdoH5AI/AAAAAAAAABY/FtjjBy-YEVc/s72-c/PICT9548.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-7426821578872934875</id><published>2009-05-31T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:34:05.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNaEahy2MI/AAAAAAAAABQ/1lKhVom2xQc/s1600-h/PICT9565.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNaEahy2MI/AAAAAAAAABQ/1lKhVom2xQc/s320/PICT9565.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342212614878582978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-7426821578872934875?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/7426821578872934875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_5148.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7426821578872934875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/7426821578872934875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_5148.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNaEahy2MI/AAAAAAAAABQ/1lKhVom2xQc/s72-c/PICT9565.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-1537856306032621959</id><published>2009-05-31T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:29:33.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNZJIwNx9I/AAAAAAAAABI/tjf7jT8zd5k/s1600-h/Baja2006_035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNZJIwNx9I/AAAAAAAAABI/tjf7jT8zd5k/s320/Baja2006_035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342211596494948306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-1537856306032621959?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/1537856306032621959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_31.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1537856306032621959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/1537856306032621959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post_31.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNZJIwNx9I/AAAAAAAAABI/tjf7jT8zd5k/s72-c/Baja2006_035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5560891215876485998</id><published>2009-05-31T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:28:09.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNYw_xWxrI/AAAAAAAAABA/eURWXMo9auI/s1600-h/Baja2006_036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNYw_xWxrI/AAAAAAAAABA/eURWXMo9auI/s320/Baja2006_036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342211181766952626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5560891215876485998?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5560891215876485998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5560891215876485998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5560891215876485998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17814149584091840567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jYzqC-ZJ2fA/SiNYw_xWxrI/AAAAAAAAABA/eURWXMo9auI/s72-c/Baja2006_036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5865091132323868158</id><published>2009-05-31T18:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T18:14:42.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Photos from Kirsten</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiMrXXsQByI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/qLjgsSBU_bU/s1600-h/JohnHorseback.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342161263488141090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiMrXXsQByI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/qLjgsSBU_bU/s320/JohnHorseback.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kirsten has several wonderful photos of John. Here's one as a teaser. She should post soon with more, and Phil, also.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5865091132323868158?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5865091132323868158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/photos-from-kirsten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5865091132323868158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5865091132323868158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/photos-from-kirsten.html' title='Photos from Kirsten'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/SiMrXXsQByI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/qLjgsSBU_bU/s72-c/JohnHorseback.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5875690213000369233</id><published>2009-05-31T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T09:58:01.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I send my deepest sympathy to the family and friends of Dr. John Austin. I am very sorry for your loss. May John rest in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alan Drage&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5875690213000369233?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5875690213000369233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-send-my-deepest-sympathy-to-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5875690213000369233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5875690213000369233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-send-my-deepest-sympathy-to-family.html' title=''/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-2191446959176234127</id><published>2009-05-31T09:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T11:20:01.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Spent the morning reminiscing, telling favorite John stories, keeping him close to my heart. Remember the time... we all have so many, hiking, laughing, throwing up in the airplane, leaning on his wise and gentle shoulder, eating amazing meals, drinking even more amazing wine, and knowing his deep and abiding commitment to justice and even deeper commitment to his friends and family. I will miss you so!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love - Naomi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-2191446959176234127?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/2191446959176234127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/spent-morning-reminiscing-telling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2191446959176234127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/2191446959176234127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/spent-morning-reminiscing-telling.html' title=''/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-310220600907221177</id><published>2009-05-30T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T09:57:07.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>John,</title><content type='html'>You took a chance on a kid and gave me my big opportunity at Arcadian. You taught me how to fly. But most of all, you showed me how a man lives a full life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for these gifts you gave to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chase&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-310220600907221177?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/310220600907221177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/310220600907221177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/310220600907221177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/06/john.html' title='John,'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1987890305905785242.post-5390495771146131015</id><published>2009-05-30T12:44:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T11:21:40.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Widening Ripples</title><content type='html'>John,&lt;br /&gt;Your departure is rippling out over the world, and our love and anquish is rippling back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Naomi called me with bad news about you, I thought maybe you'd fallen ill or had a car accident. The truth curled me into a fetal postition yelling in to my clenched fists, trying to deny the words I had just heard. The thought of never seeing you again is a searing agony in my heart and my deepest desire, as I suspect it is for many, is to go to Boulder immediately. Partly because helping you, Jacqui, would have eased my pain a bit and partly because I would be with a group of others there to grieve collectively rather than alone from afar. So let's grieve together here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacqui, I'm glad you are surrounding yourself with close friends. My heart aches because I will never see John's wry smile again, but moreso for you. Long, deep hugs from afar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything I can do, you only need to ask....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to post to this blog, let me know and I'll add your address.  (I have to do it this way).  If you want to follow this blog, use the "Subscribe to" button below to the left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1987890305905785242-5390495771146131015?l=austin-smalley.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/feeds/5390495771146131015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/widening-ripples.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5390495771146131015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1987890305905785242/posts/default/5390495771146131015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://austin-smalley.blogspot.com/2009/05/widening-ripples.html' title='Widening Ripples'/><author><name>David Willson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12483365144846451546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3Dqh_5szKUs/Sgza_xzMjFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/DTQ4ZOJM0kA/S220/105_0565.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
