1,857 Days

Today marks five years.

It is a number that feels both impossibly large and incredibly heavy. In the time since John left us, the world has spun through 1,857 days. It has seen 260 Friday night dinners where his seat was physically empty, yet we still found joy in the shared plates.

Five years is a landscape of “should-have-beens.”

John should have been at those five (or more?) South Jersey Enduro Riders races, covered in dust and adrenaline. He should have been on those crazy hiking trips with the Breed Apart crew. He should be here to see the farm thrive and the seasons change.

Since we last saw him, two of his companions, Emmett and Karma, have crossed the bridge to join him. I like to imagine them curled up near him now, finally back in his orbit.

The Joy and the Rant

I got a message from a mutual friend recently about how he still thinks of John every time he goes off-train on his motorcycle … that he can still hear John’s voice tell him “That’s my boy! Weight forward!”. It was such a visceral reminder of how interactions with John were so memorable. May we all keep remembering, keep honoring, and keep on howlin’! WOO HOO!

When I think about what John would think of the world today, I can hear his voice so clearly.

He’d be thrilled by the “new” stuff:

• Watching Arlo learn how to ride a motorcycle – the riding continues!
• Seeing Jenna and Erich become actual adults – man, time is wild.
• The food coming off the farm this year and the amount of time he would have nerded out with Hannah & Joey.
• Seeing his friends’ families grow, welcoming new lives into the circle.
• The simple, modern pleasures: island vacations, getting lost in a season of Stranger Things and finally perfecting a complex NY Times recipe.

But we also know he’d have plenty to say (loudly) about the state of things:

• He’d be ranting about the government and the chaotic shadow of DJT.
• He yelling about the water crisis (please stop using AI for stupid shit).
• The widening gap of food deserts and deterioration of the systems that should nourish us would thoroughly piss him off.

John didn’t just live; he cared. He felt the weight of the world, but he also knew how to find the magic in a Friday night that saw every pan in the kitchen used.

How to Honor Him Today

Five years later, we don’t just want to mourn him – we want to move in his honor. Do something that carries his spirit:

• Howl at the moon. Let it out. Be loud, be wild, and be present.
• Take the vacation. Stop waiting for the “perfect” time. Go with the crew. Make the memory.
• Go jump in the lake!. Or river or the ocean – just get in it. Feel the shock of the cold and the rush of being alive.
• Go the extra mile. On your motorcycle or in your car, don’t head home just yet. Take the long way. Lean into the curve.
• Save a life. Adopt a cat, a dog, or even a bird. John’s heart for his animals was immense; sharing that love with a creature in need is the ultimate tribute.

John, we miss the rants, we miss the dinners, and we miss the larger-than-life man. But every time we grow something real or ride a little further than planned, you’re right there.

To 1,857 days of remembering. We love you, John.