May 27, 2022
May 27, 2022
John Kinney was a gentle soul. We met at the Mission Coop Nursery School, and maybe being gentle was how he let a mutual friend, Ky, and I lock him in the bathroom. Nevertheless, we became best friends, more like brothers really, since we were both only children.
We spent a lot of time together as kids, going to each other’s houses to play. I remember playing all kinds of card games, first war and later cribbage and bridge with his parents Phyllis and Tom. We went to summer camps together and to James Lick Junior High then Lowell. John’s dad would drive us there for zero period band practice, and later it was John who’d pick me up in his Corvair.
We drifted apart somewhat after that though we continued to do things together, like backpacking in the Sierras and sailing on the sloop that he inherited from his dad. We’d play occasional duets together, with me struggling to keep up on the clarinet as he easily played his own part on the trombone, transposing as he went.
We went with our families on a Sierra trip and also a vacation to Mexico, all staying with Luisa’s parents in Mexico City. There was also the annual Thanksgiving dinners rotating between our houses and Ky’s.
In later years we became closer, taking many hikes together: Mount Tam, along the coast, and off of Skyline Boulevard. He was a great companion. We’d talk about all kinds of things – books we were reading, current events, politics, our families, and our various health issues. John was always the rational one, talking me down off of my crazier notions.
Toward the end, the walks became shorter. Maybe a mile on San Bruno Mountain, or a walk along the shore in South San Francisco. Then just a walk to the corner and back. He had more and more difficulty because of his weight. Losing weight is a miserable fight. At one point John had lost 100 pounds by going on a diet of milkshakes. At the Kaiser program, they reduced eating to a discipline. I can’t imagine how hard it was for someone who loved to eat.
I came to see him the week before he died. We didn’t walk at all, but he seemed in good spirits. Nevertheless, he told me that he was thinking of quitting The Family, a club like the Bohemian Club he was a member of. He had the unenviable and unpaid job of organizing the musicians, not just playing the trombone. He said that it was tough too because eating and drinking were major activities that he couldn’t really participate in.
So John passed away as he had lived, gently.
We spent a lot of time together as kids, going to each other’s houses to play. I remember playing all kinds of card games, first war and later cribbage and bridge with his parents Phyllis and Tom. We went to summer camps together and to James Lick Junior High then Lowell. John’s dad would drive us there for zero period band practice, and later it was John who’d pick me up in his Corvair.
We drifted apart somewhat after that though we continued to do things together, like backpacking in the Sierras and sailing on the sloop that he inherited from his dad. We’d play occasional duets together, with me struggling to keep up on the clarinet as he easily played his own part on the trombone, transposing as he went.
We went with our families on a Sierra trip and also a vacation to Mexico, all staying with Luisa’s parents in Mexico City. There was also the annual Thanksgiving dinners rotating between our houses and Ky’s.
In later years we became closer, taking many hikes together: Mount Tam, along the coast, and off of Skyline Boulevard. He was a great companion. We’d talk about all kinds of things – books we were reading, current events, politics, our families, and our various health issues. John was always the rational one, talking me down off of my crazier notions.
Toward the end, the walks became shorter. Maybe a mile on San Bruno Mountain, or a walk along the shore in South San Francisco. Then just a walk to the corner and back. He had more and more difficulty because of his weight. Losing weight is a miserable fight. At one point John had lost 100 pounds by going on a diet of milkshakes. At the Kaiser program, they reduced eating to a discipline. I can’t imagine how hard it was for someone who loved to eat.
I came to see him the week before he died. We didn’t walk at all, but he seemed in good spirits. Nevertheless, he told me that he was thinking of quitting The Family, a club like the Bohemian Club he was a member of. He had the unenviable and unpaid job of organizing the musicians, not just playing the trombone. He said that it was tough too because eating and drinking were major activities that he couldn’t really participate in.
So John passed away as he had lived, gently.