John

John (cuz) is a man of many words, few that make sense, and none that are meaningless. He doesn’t waste breath on hate, rather spends it on comedy and progress. The joy in life is found by him, then explored, and revisited. Like any human experience, life is not perfect, and happiness is not permanent - but the pursuit of it can be. 

Each cousin’s coming of age moment was their visit to Camp Berk. I remember feeling anxious about when my time was going to come; after my older brother had gotten back from his trip there. Located in the East Bay, California, Camp Berk is an old, Victorian style home that cuz had customized to his likeness for decades. There was a feeling of comfort and peace in Camp Berk. A fountain of freedom. My visit came when I was maybe eight or nine. I flew alone and was picked up in an old red truck from the Oakland airport. cuz took the long way home. Sharing glimpses of why he has committed to calling the Bay home since 1979. And I understood. 

After driving from the airport, past Alameda, through West Oakland, we arrived at Camp Berk. He showed me the wide couch I would be sleeping on the next week or so, and led me to a funnel taped to a garden hose dropping from the roof into the neighbors yard - if I needed to take a late night leak. 

”Just hold on to the side… you don't want to fall in your own pee.” John said as I looked 25 feet down to the pavement below. I held my pee til the morning. 

Camp Berk is John’s ideal habitat, and he created it as such. The greenery in the garden is thick enough to get lost in - where honeysuckles quench your thirst and bumble bees fly to hum, not to sting. There is a full sized storage container, full to the brim, but organized - almost like a mystery box. Behind the storage container, through the bushes, is a hidden door. Inside, is room to explore. Though the room is only the size of a small shed, art, pictures, history, and curiosity are abundant. There are questions to ask and answers to learn. 

It is in his garden where spends a lot of time in thought. I know this because he is vocal in his wisdom - a priceless quality for young people. Pictures of his domain are sent regularly; with notes of indirect advice and a segway to a bigger picture. I noticed this after he had sent me dozens of photos with a message below quoting: “zoom in, cuz”. Finally, after I had aged some, I have realized his encouragement to change perspective. Not only in the pictures you view, but the arguments you have and the life you lead. Perspective changes direction.

Another common theme is that if mu. cuz peddled the importance of mu for years. He provided no direct answer, just acted as a guide from question to question. He told me to find the meaning of mu, and I was quite confused. All he gave me were two letters, but his persistence forced my commitment. I was interested, but not engaged nor dedicated to finding the solution. I turned my head toward the sound of it, but never lifted my feet to follow it. Frankly, when cuz finally revealed the answer of the mysterious mu, I was underwhelmed. I expected it to add to my life, and add to it now. I wasn’t engaged nor dedicated to its philosophy. Soon enough I realized that mu is not life or death, love or hate; it is life and death, love and hate. mu is up to its author’s interpretation. John’s definition (which has changed before) is, “no view is the right view”. Mine is that life is life. And though it sounds underwhelming and boring, it has led me to enjoy, to expect, and to grow from the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

Now that he had felt I valued some perspective, he encouraged me to put it to use. “Ride the fence line,” he says. Another indirect, arbitrary piece of advice. But a motion for movement. Our goods, are not, if we don't share them. I didn’t know what he meant by this either; that is until I literally rode some fence lines. Walking side by side with a friend, family member, or stranger, fixing fence is a prolific way to learn about someone, as they learn about you - it's a conversation - it’s interest. When you take time to walk and talk with someone, they take time to walk and talk with you. 

John has encouraged me to walk the longest fence lines possible. And as I have walked some long ones during my day, his voice is fuel to my curiosity. Curiosity in life has led him many places. One of which has been a deep interest in our family history. As I spent a little under a year of college in Guadalajara, cuz was excited to share a crossroad - a crossroad between our family history and Mexican history. He shared our connection to Major General William Jenkins Worth - Fort Worth Texas is named after him. John said that my great, great grandfather married General Worth’s daughter. He exposed this fact with a little bit of a giggle, and again, I was left a little lost. Then I looked up General Worth… this man commanded brutal armies during the Mexican-American war, acting as a key part of the US’s success, and a key part of Mexico’s mass loss of land and people. It was ironic that I - a man related to another man who dedicated a part of his life to killing Mexicans - is now living and loving in Mexico.

I was scared of this fact when I first learned about it. I was new in Mexico, and stuck out enough already. I was worried that if this info got into the hands of the wrong people, I would probably die - or get beaten at least. John helped me see the hysteria in that. So I told him of an assignment I had coming up: Share a Piece of Your Family History. I was the only White dude in a class of Mexicans, in the heart of Mexico, and of course, John pleaded with me to tell the story. He made me realize the beauty in it. The beauty of change, change that can be seen in real time. In just generations, a man who most likely held hate for Mexicans, for he was at war with them, can turn into a man who holds interest in them, their culture, and their history. 

When John came to visit me in Guadalajara, he, three of my brothers - Peterson (my blood brother and closest friend), Nils (my brother’s best friend and a older brother to me), and Gavin (my best friend and constant supporter) -, and my dad came to indulge in what I had been lucky enough to enjoy in those past six months. Most days were filled with a plan of some sort; but John was hard to pin down. He’s a drifting man. He flows freely, and follows his conscience. The rest of the group would stick together, only to randomly pass John, sitting on a bench, watching the flowers grow, pigeons peck, and the breeze pass from person to person: a beautiful combination of life. He held nothing in his hands, only unique stories of those he had met, what he had saw, and how he had saw it. 

From my perspective, John’s life has always seemed so effortless (though I imagine he may beg to differ). And this intrigued me. I wanted a life led from not my brain, and not my heart; but a combination of the both, in unison. And it seemed like John held this in a place of balance - and held it with grace. 

The last time I visited John, in Camp Berk, we began conversation, as we usually do. As the conversation spanned past my attention, and I began to zone out, John brought me back in when he claimed he was God, then stated I was too, and all others are as well. At first, I thought he had officially lost his mind. But then he gave his reasoning. He claimed that we are as vastly complex inside, as our world and galaxy is vastly complex out; and that holds power. He said that this power takes someone to trust it. Just like many religions trust God. He encouraged me to trust in myself, and answers will reveal themselves, and they have. Now, I do not believe I am God, and don’t know enough about life or its technicalities to believe in any specific God, I have learned to trust in myself. If I take steps to value my life, then my life values me. Balance and shit. 

John has taught me a lot. A lot that I am grateful for, and a lot that I will teach my kids one day. Wisdom is priceless, but only if you share it. It’s like Ted Lasso says: “Youth is wasted on the young. Don’t let the wisdom of age be wasted on you.” Shout out John. 

One Drop by Bob Marley