ForeverMissed
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A true friend

August 17, 2018

I love you Chris. I love all the time that we spent together. All the laughs and adventures. Your inventions and theories. You are a comedian. You would make me laugh all the time with your incredible impressions of me and everything and everyone else. I love your perspective on life. I love the music you made, and we made. Just everything, I even love the jokes that you played on me that got me so irritated sometimes while you laughed it off then eventually I would start laughing to. Your the best Chris.  Thank you for teaching me about life. Thank you for caring about me and being so considerate. Thank you for showing me that there’s people like you. I really was hoping to see you again and connect on earth but now I know I’ll have to be patient. I know you are alive and well just in another place, a very loving, fun place. I’ll just be patient until I get there and I’m sending you so much love my amigo, my buddy, my best friend. I still have so much I want to say in this, Still trying to find the words to express. You are the best friend I could ever ask for. I don’t know why we didn’t talk for years, but thank you Chris. I know I will see you again and we will have many more memories together in the spiritual world. The jokes you played on our PE teacher hahaha I’m so glad I had PE with you. I can still remember the look on his face hahahaha deep down I know he was laughing :) 

Goosebumps

July 31, 2018

I am so grateful to have shared time growing up with Chris...it’s hard when years have passed without seeing someone and you realize you won’t see them again here on earth....He was such an amazing person....I’m looking forward to seeing him someday again.

One of my favorite memories from Mt. Woodson years was him helping me with my book reports....Once I did the report he would “help” (totally draw) the covers for me....sometimes even make them 3D. I would always pick Goosebumps books so he would have something cool to draw...sometimes he would pick a book cover he liked and I would just have to read the book, haha...

I love reading everyone else’s stories....coming from a small town like we did it’s hard when you lose someone like him...he was truly a light of joy to other people

Always a good friend

July 31, 2018

I woke up early this morning trying to pin point a memory I would like to share but I can’t. It’s a series of small events that mean so much. He was my first friend in Ramona. First Day of 4th grade in a new school, we sat together at recess and talked, he made that day positive and a new school not so scary. Or how he made Mrs Powell cry with laughter at his stand up routine about “cereal killers” at talent show in the 6th grade. In high school we would talk on the phone late into the night about punk bands and how 40oz to Freedom was the better Sublime album. And I’ll never forget how he wouldn’t let me forget I dumped him after dating a whole half day in 5th grade haha. I ran into him a few year back, it was easy small talk like nothing had changed. He gave me a hug goodbye. I always thought our paths would cross again, it crushes me to know they never will again. I will never forget his constant kindness

July 30, 2018
by D nold

   We danced, We talked, We fought & We rocked and now some day my dear friend we will rest together for eternity.....          We discused at length what happens in the forever after......now you Chrisy Poo know, please dont ruin the secret and tell me, it would take away the mystery. Always and forever youre best friend on Earth whether you wanted me around or not.

July 30, 2018

Chris and I became friends in 4th grade. Luckily our last names were close enough in the alphabet (O-P) so that Ms.Snyder sat us next to each other. Chris's beautiful mind was years beyond the 4th grade (as it was each year thereafter). Thus, he would finish his work before everyone and then have time to plot how to get a rise out of the teacher and the rest of the class. Whether he was kicking the inside door frame and pretending like he broke his nose at the entrance to Mt. Woodson, or awkwardly passing a note in class with some BS compliment about about teacher so when she took it, and read it out load in an attempt to embarrass, it would backfire, he always made class and school fun. It always seemed difficult for the teachers to get too mad (excluding Ms. Farrow) because they always had an underlying respect for his humor and ingenuity. 

In the summer of 6th(ish) Grade I had the once in a lifetime opportunity to visit Chris's family with him out in Belgium. There are a ton of small little stories that I could go into, but what I remember most was how Chris looked out for me and made me feel. After the first week I got homesick and without saying a word I could tell that Chris had picked up and had made it his internal mission to help me out. I remember him insisting with his grandparents that I get to call home (super long distance at the time) during the day, even though the hours were off and it made more sense to call at night after dinner or in the morning. He did this without either of us ever even verbally acknowledging that I was feeling homesick. That was how he operated. He saw how he could help a friend and did so. He didn't need to be asked and wasn't looking for thanks or gratitude. Because of him, the homesickness passed and I was able to have one of the best trips I have been on in my life.

At the moment I am having a mental block on the details of a lot of things i loved doing with Chris like: sitting at his Flak (or Faultless) band practices, playing on his tennis net/fort, working on soap (thanks Claude and Carrie for the job), going to see our first concerts together (Bush/Offspring), or camping in the cowfields for days on end. I will send little stories as the details of events  pop back into my head as they tend to do when someone or something is on your mind.     

But one thing that is so incredibly clear to me was how Chris always made me and everyone else feel. He wanted to see people having a good time. He did this through his jokes, music and when those weren't available he looked for other things he could do, like insist on a long distance phone call. Chris is one of my oldest friends and I am beyond grateful to have had him in my life. 

Music, Angel Wings

July 28, 2018

My brother was a musician, pure and simple. He had music in his soul for his entire life. It helped shape him, sort through his emotions, express himself, transport and transform him. Music was his life, the guitar his vehicle. 

Chris was 2 years old when he picked out his first "bitar." It was a toy guitar at Disneyworld, and he was thrilled by it. He played with it constantly until he left it at a restaurant one night. The toy was gone, but the music bug had bitten him forever more.

Chris got his first real guitar for Christmas in 1993 when he was 9 years old. It was a black and white Fender Squire. He had been wanting one for a long time, and it was love at first strum. You can picture the Red Rider BB gun in A Christmas Story.... This was that kind of gift for my brother. He treasured this guitar, and the beautiful sounds it could make.

My brother was a very active child, and he dabbled in many sports and activities such as baseball and karate. He had a harder time sitting still for calm activities such as schoolwork at that age. We knew he would love his guitar, but we had no idea how completely devoted he would be to it, and how many disciplined hours he would spend learning it and honing his craft. His drive to make music seemed to come out of the blue, and we were floored by it. 

Chris started formal guitar lessons around 1995. He went to Tradways, the local Ramona music store, and learned with his first instructor, Vance. Chris took his learning very seriously. We thought he may get bored with it or discouraged by the time and patience it takes to learn an instrument, but that was just not the case. I remember hearing him play every afternoon and evening. He started out with all the basic chord progressions, tuning, and simple children's songs. Then he graduated to more popular guitar songs with simple chords, such as Nirvana and Green Day. He kept branching out from there, learning more complex songs such as Stairway to Heaven. Before long, Chris was branching out in all musical directions and also starting to create some of his own original pieces.

Chris' next guitar was a dark red Gibson SG. It was a beautiful instrument and he was very proud of it. He would play in a rock band called Flak during most of his high school years, and several other bands throughout his adulthood. They really rocked! They played our high school and other venues, including my birthday party, and I thought they were the coolest. I was so proud of my brother and his beautiful music. He put in the patience and the hours and had the passion. He just got better and better.

Chris had an appreciation for guitar music in its many forms. He started with alternative and punk, but quickly grew to appreciate classic rock, blues, country rock and, especially in his later years, folk rock. He devoted countless hours to writing and playing songs for the rest of his life. I feel very privileged to have been in a position to get his many impromptu "concerts" just for his immediate family. He made a lot of beautiful music that nobody but Mom, Dad and I would ever hear. I feel sad that many of his songs would never be more widely heard. Especially in his later years, he really honed his singing and songwriting craft. I hope to keep these tunes in my head for the rest of my life. The music playing on this site is but a small sampling of some of his later work, written, played and sung by Chris himself. I am so thankful for the eternal gift of his music.

It is hard to sum up Chris' love for music and the role it played in his life, so I will let his own words do it justice. The following is an essay that my brother wrote when he was a junior at Ramona High School. The year was 2001. My brother, as much as he loved music and sports, did not always devote much time to his school work. My mom was floored when she found him typing an essay one night for hours and hours. That focus was so unlike him when it came to homework. She was intrigued. He told her that he was writing an essay for Mr. Buhl, an English teacher who had inspired him like few could, and that the assignment was very enjoyable. My mom was so happy and surprised that she called the teacher to thank him for so inspiring her son. Here it is, without further ado:

INFLUENTIAL INFLUENZA

by Chris Poissonniez

For most people music is something that sits in the passenger seat in the car of life. For me, music is my chauffeur. It drives me wherever I want to go; at whatever speed I want, and never runs out of gas. Music is the marrow that makes me who I am.Without it my dishes would have spots, my socks would never match, and everyday would be a bad hair day.

As far back as I can remember I have been a music critic. But for some reason, being a critic of music wasn’t good enough. I wanted to make music and have it criticized.There is an old saying; “It is easier said than done.” Well, screw talking about it, I wanted to do it.  When I was 10, I asked my mom for a guitar around Christmas time, and her answer was “maybe”. Maybe…Twice as sweet as no, half as sweet as yes. It wasn’t exactly the word I was looking for, but with a little refinement this question raising maybe could be transformed into a hope fulfilling yes. With Christmas drawing nearer I decided I had to have a strategy. I already came right out and said that I wanted a guitar, so I needed to be a little more subtle. I decided that it would be a good idea to use subliminal messaging to get my point across. I slipped the word guitar into every sentence that came out of my mouth.

“HEY MOM THIS GREEN BEAN CASSAROLE IS GREAT guitar!”

“DID I ALREADY MENTION YOU ARE THE GREATEST MOTHER IN THEWORLD guitar?”

“BUT MOM, guitar I DON’T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL!”

I thought I was the smartest kid in the world.  My mom ate up every word, and didn’t even notice that I was controlling her every move. I wanted her to eat, sleep, and breathe guitars. She did of course, after all I was the smartest kid in the world.Before I knew what hit me it was Christmas Eve. I could barely go to sleep. Every time the sandman came near, I shredded his ass away with the coolest guitar riff ever. Eventually he got smart, put in some earplugs, and took me out.

Like clockwork I woke up at six AM. Don’t ask me why, but on Christmas morning my first instinct has always been to scream my head off. And that I did, all the way into my parent’s room, while briefly bouncing on their bed, and all the way down the stairs. As my right foot hit the first floor I immediately stopped. There it was, the greatest gift a boy could receive. It was the best looking guitar I had ever seen, and it was all mine. I slowly walked up to it, ran my fingertips along the flawless fretboard, and flung it over my shoulder. If I were an angel you could safely say that I had just been given my wings.

Since that day I have never been the same.I started playing then, and have not stopped since. Any emotion I have trouble letting out can always be expressed through six metal strings. When I’m sad guitar helps me cope, when I’m happy guitar helps me float, and when I’m shipwrecked guitar is my boat.







A Free Range Childhood

July 22, 2018

Chris was the best brother in the entire world. There is no doubt in my mind. Sure, he could pester me at times, and sometimes I was a bonafide grump (and still am to this day). But he was a beacon of light in my life, and he will continue to shine there until the day I join him. 


Despite sometimes having our sibling quarrels, we also had a lot of wonderful memories together. Our best memories were in nature. As older millenials, we were the last of the "Free Range" generation who went out to play when the sun came up, and came home when the street lights came on. Chris and I never argued when we went outside to play.

Some of my fondest memories were in Tierrasanta, where we lived from 1988 to 1994. We lived in a small suburb next to a canyon. Chris and I would play in that Canyon constantly. We swung on the tree swing there, climbed on the rocks, and made exciting discoveries. One day we found tiny "lobsters" in the creek! Our dad being a chef, we had to get some of these crawdads for him to cook. I puzzled at how to catch them, but clever Chris soon figured out that we could make a fishing line with some string and bait. We tried many different types of food. Chris was always determined and could solve any problem he encountered. He figured out that velveeta cheese was perfect for the task. Our catch was bounteous. We eventually released most of our catch back into the creek to be caught again someday. 

Chris and I also loved riding our bikes. Our favorite spot was a little plaza a couple miles away. We would beg our mom for a couple bucks, and that would buy us some candy or an ice cream at the mini mart or dairy queen down at the base of our neighborhood. Chris made sure our bikes were tricked out with playing cards on them to make them sound like motorcycles, and all of the bells and whistles. Sometimes I rode with my friends, my mostly it was just Chris and me, and I preferred it that way. My clever brother, two years my junior, was always up to whatever adventures I had in store. In truth, Chris was always bolder and more street smart, so I needed him out there more than he ever needed me.

Just as I was entering sixth grade and Chris fourth, we moved to the countryside of Ramona. For two free range adventurers, this opened up whole new possibilities! Chris and I explored all the boulders around our property, climbing and naming them all. There was Pride Rock, Tall Rock and Wall Rock. 

Chris and I ventured down to a place we called the "Cow Pen" and enjoyed chasing the cows, climbing the rocks, and making new discoveries. We would collect Native American artifacts that we found. We didn't realize that many years later archaeologists would rope off the area and preserve these things for history. Chris and I found them first. We found arrowheads and other rock tools, pottery shards, as well as hollowed out places where they would grind their acorns. Chris and I valued these treasures but, even more so, we valued the positive time spent together. 

I remember one time at the Cow Pen we found a round, metal cow trough that was empty and obviously out of use.  We fashioned it into a boat and floated all around the pond there, with a couple of ropes to pull us along from side to side. It was an engineering marvel. Chris figured it out, as he always did, and I was just along for the ride. He had a brilliant mind and could see uses for objects that I never could.

We had fun on the dirt road where we lived. I will never forget when Chris decided that we should make a dog sled. He took our dad's dolley, attached it to his skateboard, bungeed a box on top, and voila! We both climbed in and attached it to the collar of his dog at the time, Daisy. Daisy pulled us up and down the road. There were a few wipe outs when Daisy saw a squirrel or rabbit, but overall, I would call Chris' dogsled a roaring success.

As we got older, Chris and I would venture less. That is the normal way, I suppose. But sometimes we would take our dogs to hike Mt. Woodson or to the beach, and we would feel like the adventurers again in our youth. 

Thank you for the memories, Chris. Thank you for making my childhood special. You always pushed me to learn and grow and extend my comfort zone. You always loved me unconditionally. You are the best brother in the world.

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