Last Monday Alice and I hiked Twenty Mile Creek in the Smokey Mountain National Park to the spot where we spread John's ashes in April of 2021. It's still a beautiful peaceful spot. How we miss him!
This season, and every season, be sure to tell the folks you love how important they are to you. ❤️

Two years ago today John left us. 
I like to recall our happy times together. One of our favorite trips was a visit to Scotland in the fall of 2015, a year before he received his diagnosis. The weather was remarkably fair and we visited small villages, fairy pools, and random castles. And of course, a couple distilleries. It was all very magical.

This is John on the Isle of Skye. Loving life.

I cherish those times and all the times--good and not so good--that we shared. I miss him always. 

When John was 16, I was 13. By that age, we were allowed to go to Sunday Mass on our own. One Sunday, I road to church with John. On the way there John told me that he would be going to Baskin-Robbins for ice cream instead of attending church and that Mom and Dad would be none the wiser. Being a younger goody-goody, I was horrified but didn’t say anything other than that I wanted to go to church. “No problem”, John said, “I’ll drop you off and pick you up after Mass is over.”  I fretted the rest of the drive, worried sick about John’s soul. I’ll just have to pray extra hard at church for his salvation, I though.  As we got to the turn off for the church, John said…”Well, Kate, this is your last chance. 31 flavors! You sure you want me to turn off for church?” Yes….I said.  I’ve long since become a fallen Catholic…..and it all began that Sunday long ago. What I wouldn’t give to go to Baskin-Robbins with you for that ice cream now, JJ. I still miss you and your incorrigible irreverence. Love, Kate

The first part of the email was about the death of our dog, Deacon. It was very touching, but the last paragraph is particularly poignant, and very John Wright.

"...This thought leads to a second theme I draw from this event: We're not guaranteed tomorrow. This reality should not paralyze or terrorize. But it serves to remind us to live each day with gusto and, most importantly, revel in friends, family and other loved ones. Endeavor to end each day with no ill feelings or sour heart. On that note, Kids, you must know that Mom and I love you with the strength that only parents know. All three of you have made us proud beyond description and, yes, even though out of sight, we still fret and worry about you all the time. But that's OK.  Keep on pressing, one day at a time, and know that we (and Deak's spirit) are always with you."

John taught by example. He was so full of love.  And gusto. I miss him every day.

John…you are always in my heart. Thank goodness for all the memories

Happy Birthday, Brother!  I miss you terribly.  I just posted photos in the Gallery from our Barcelona trip together.  Greg and I have such great memories of our trip there with you and Rita.  I hold on to them.  Love you.

Today, I shared an Internet suggestion: When you are in public and a stranger sits down beside you, just stare straight ahead and say, “Did you bring the money?”
Sister Anne reminded me that John used to come up behind you, stick his finger in your back, and whisper, “Act like nothing’s wrong.”
The memory made me smile, as I hope it does you

John loved his woods.

During one of Cameron’s first visits to Shangri-la, Alice explained to him how her dad spent a lot of time the woods, selecting and pruning trees, removing unwanted underbrush, simply making the woods more inviting. As they walked though the woods, Cameron commented something like, “Where most men see impenetrable forest, John Wright sees less woods.” 

The phrase stuck. John would suit up in the morning and say, “I’m out to make less woods.”  He tended his the trees like they were children and enjoyed monitoring their progress. Sometimes he’d select a young desirable tree that was too close to another, and carefully transplant it to another site. Wherever we’ve lived, from our little rancher on Christianna Parran Road, to the house on Holderness Lane where we raised the kids, to our wonderful Shangri-La in the North Carolina mountains, and finally the new home we built in Morganton to be closer to the kids, he made sure that each property included significant woods. 

Once at Holderness Lane, I came home from a grocery run to find John sitting about 35 feet off the ground, in a huge oak. He was attaching a rope to a large branch so the kids would have a decent tire swing. I was not pleased because it looked mighty dangerous. In fact, once he got down he admitted that while as a kid he used to climb with abandon, as an adult, he found it a little scary up there. Nonetheless, the kids had a backyard tire swing that couldn’t be beat.

At Shangri-la I remember him pointing out some dead and dying trees to visiting nephew Nick Haddad. He was planning to take them down. Nick, an environmental ecologist, said, “Don’t do that, they’re habitat,” (for a variety of forest creatures). After that, John purposely left those sentinels. He’d just point to them, smile, and say, “Habitat.”

He was so excited when we discovered the diversity of trees on the Morganton property, especially several large beeches—John’s favorite tree.  Even before the house was built, he had selected trees in the woods to cultivate and then he planted a few more.

He knew that planting trees was something you did not for yourself but for those who follow you. John has passed a rich sylvan legacy to future generations who will walk in the shade that he lovingly nurtured. 

           In the summer of 1980, my new girlfriend Katie Wright invited me to a party down Chesapeake Beach way.  "It'll be fun" she said.  "you can meet my brother...and these beach parties rock."  So we went.  We pulled into a driveway, grabbed our towels and followed the noise around to the back of the house.  A large group of people had gathered, centered around a volleyball game in the sand. We jumped into the game and started playing.  Shortly, there was a disagreement between the two teams...too much beer and sun. A lean disheveled guy with longish hair and a trimmed beard planted himself at the net.  At first I thought he was going to start a fight, but detected a playfulness about him.  He grabbed the net with both hands, opened his mouth, bit the net, and starting growling...finally tilting his head to the sky and roaring "OH, MAN!" Katie looked at me and said, "that's my brother John." 
          Oh, brother John. I will mourn you and miss you dearly. Your passion and love of life trickled down to all of us.  You laughed so easily.  You made us laugh. You made us think.  You made us cry. We will carry on and be thankful you graced our lives...but damnit, we'll miss you so. I love you brother John.

Dear Rita, Alice, Jack, Curtis and all the Wright clan,
I am so very sorry to hear of John's death...and the deep grieving you must all be feeling at this point.  No doubt you were all at his side every possible minute to bring comfort and soak in all of "John" you could soak in.
My memories of John are from the large family gatherings held on Thanksgiving and Fourth of July.  I looked forward to those times immensely as they were just enormously fun.  There were kids everywhere, usually running around and chasing each other. The boys including John were pulling pranks on unsuspecting cousins and laughter abounded.  The adults were completely outnumbered so the food police were unable to monitor the meals.  I remember my Mom, Aunt Gertie setting up a sit down meal in our basement for one of the Thanksgiving meals, complete with Christmas lights across the ceiling to make it festive.  We used real plates ( a version of china for our special occasion!) and real utensils.  The pile of dirty dishes was like a North Carolina mountain.  After the meal, the Mom's gathered around a piano and sang their hearts out.  This gave the kids a free range opportunity and may have been the early inspiration for John's love of sustainable farming. (ha, ha).  I fondly remember those gatherings filled with lots of laughter.  John was definitely a big part of that with his quick and ready smile and laugh.
Warmly,
Cele Meehan Daub

Shortly after joining the Real World as an employed adult, I remember being regaled by some of John’s stories about his regular government polygraphs (a decidedly un-fun experience). He apparently went in with the end goal of making the person administering it turn as many different shades and hues as possible. 
He described his particular enjoyment in watching faces go pale after providing an enthusiastic “oh, yes!” to the standard ‘ever taken any elicit or illegal drugs’ question, then watch them get all flustered and flush through various shades of red and purple as he listed them all (past-tense, of course). 
I gathered in the retelling that the list was quite extensive - he was a teenager in the 60s, after all!
Seems a hallmark of John’s to take what would ordinarily be an unpleasant and uncomfortable situation and find a way to not only turn the tables but to have a little fun along the way too.

Well after life in NC had permeated John and city life had faded from his being, he and sibs were gracious enough to attend my wedding... in the Big Apple.
By far the most bemusing musing that long weekend came from John: In awe over just how densely populated NYC is, the phrase that endured all weekend long (and persists as a bit of a joke in our household whenever something excessive comes up) was “but how *do* they get enough eggs into the city every day to feed everybody!?” and variations thereof. 

The 9 Wright siblings (George, Anne, Charlie, Martha, John, Mary, Katie, Monica and Maureen) have a joint text thread where we "chat" daily....sharing jokes, comics, memories, commentary on current events, family news, photos and, of course, sarcastic but loving barbs aimed at each other as only siblings can do.  So it was only natural upon learning the news of John's death to come together virtually through our sibling text thread to grieve the loss of our brother.    

The attached document is a record of our texts on the day we learned the unthinkable - Johnny was gone.  It was lovingly compiled by oldest sibling, George, who described it as  "our spontaneous reaction to the world without our brother John".   A text from youngest sibling, Maureen, provided the title:  "What the heck do with do tomorrow?  One day at a time, I guess"

It is fittingly dedicated to John's wife, Rita:  "To our sister-in-law, Rita Pelczar.  She made the boy we knew as children be the man we know today."

John ripped his presents open wildly because he didn't like faking that he was surprised. That's right: He already knew what each present was, because he opened them in advance--behind closed doors in his bedroom--and then re-wrapped them. I know because I was allowed to watch him do this one Christmas (who remembers which one!?). Too much of a chicken to ever to that with my own presents.

And this is from his sister, Mary, not my husband Rocky.

John's Friend Noel writes....

From the Noel archives:

John played drums in the band High Tide. John Zahn played lead guitar, Paul Schein, rhythm guitar, Ron Hedges, Bass. They were in demand at U of MD fraternity beer blast/dances, some held at the old Adelphi Mill on Riggs road, not far from The Tick Tock liquor store. Paul Schein’s parents had to attend some of the gigs as chaperones because everybody in the band was under age---LOL!

John Zahn still plays guitar professionally now with the John Zahn Band---he lives in West Virginia and gives music lessons at the Victor Litz studio in Gaithersburg Maryland. He looks much the same as he did in the 60s +50 years.

Paul Schein works at Chuck Levin’s music store as he has for the past 36 years, in Wheaton Maryland. He lives outside Mount Airy, married to his wife Carrie. They have two grown daughters Ava and Emily,. who are both married with children. Paul’s brother Steve,  A classmate of my sister Lorraine at four corners Elementary  school, died a few months ago. He lived in California with his wife.

On Kinross Avenue the Schein’s had 2 boxer dogs---Coco and Pepsi---Coco came first and was more fearsome of the two,  It attacked Steve one day when Steve was in a civil air patrol uniform, returning from a CAP meeting. Coco saw him at the front door and tore down the heavy storm door---the old kind with your initial in the middle--to get at The intruder Steve.  Fortunately at the last second Steve took his hat off and Coco realize who he was.

More to come....

Because I lived just down the road from Ann Arbor at the time, I offered hosting to John and Rita when Alice came to the University of Michigan for graduate school. I was able to procure some tickets to the first football game of the year in The Big House—in which the Wolverines played against tiny Appalachian State, where Alice’s brother Jack was in attendance.

I believe this was the same day Alice met Cameron, at the shared archaeology grad student house she moved into.

At game time, John asked how many “transit cups” of beer he needed for the walk to the stadium (definitely not legal, but apparently unenforced against non-students), and a Legend was born. He wore a hat for one school and a shirt for the other, and he talked so much trash once App State was dominant that the youngs feared he would be attacked by the home crowd.

Back at home, I recorded the game and transferred it to DVD. I understand that this legendary upset, on par with the Ewoks vs. the Empire, was enjoyed many times back at Shangri-La.

John once told me a story of how Rita tried to make him a more compassionate Dad. Remember, he’s the guy who used to tell his kids to “Take the pain!” and even his young daughter to “Be a man!”
Alice had complained about some teenage problem (social in nature, I gathered), to which he had said, “Aw, come to me when you have a REAL problem!” His wife grabbed him firmly by the arm from behind and said, sweetly but savagely, “John, to her, this IS a real problem.” He recreated this in the telling. Unfortunately, I went for my annual physical the next day, wherein my doc was quite alarmed to find a handprint clearly outlined in bruises on my arm. I had a time convincing her that I lived alone and was in no danger. I did try to “be a man” about it.

I am really going to miss John, particularly after morning coffee, John.  Prior to coffee and gathering his “Wah” John was not very amused by anything.  And if you interrupted his “experience “ you would get his “Do not disturb” look.  Here is a picture of morning John, actively ignoring his photographer.
This was endearing

John was the irreverent sibling who could get away with things because he was so charming. This included defying my Dad’s rules....something no sane person who valued their life would do. My favorite story about defying a rule is the tradition of opening presents on Christmas morning.
There was no wild ripping open of presents in the Wright household. Nope. We took turns opening presents, one person at a time, starting with the youngest and progressing up by age.  For little kids, it was unbearable to wait your turn. About the 2nd or 3rd go-around - we were never sure when it would happen - John would stand up (out of turn!!!) and dramatically declare he couldn’t take it anymore and he’d rip into his present. This was the cue that we could now all tear into our presents simultaneously.  Surprisingly, my Dad was amused instead of angry. Just proving that It was hard to get mad at John.