In February, I had planned to write a story about drag queens getting roped into an epic battle between orcs and elves. But all I can think about is writing a eulogy for John Jennison.
John's death hit me harder than I expected. For the 11 years I'd known him, he'd had cancer. Pancreatic cancer to be specific. But for the first nine of those years that knowledge felt like a piece of trivia, not an important or relevant fact.
But over the course of the pandemic that little piece of trivia became more important. His updates about creating art became updates about doctor visits, and eventually they weren't his updates but updates from his friends. And one day, it was hospice and not hospital. But for me, there is an infinite distance between soon and now.
Infinite the way anything divided by 0 is. Impossible to quantify and calculation-breaking.
And it feels shameful to write this, but I really kept thinking there was going to be more time, or a last minute miracle.
So I didn't call. I texted, and made plans for a group video chat that we didn't get to have. Because soon wasn't now, and I didn't think now would be so soon.
I've googled it a few times and there are several ways to write a eulogy, but this website has perhaps [the simplest instructions on how to](https://dying.lovetoknow.com/examples-tributes-given-at-funerals/touching-eulogy-examples-dear-friend). So, I'll be following those.
I do not remember when I met John. Maybe at a con, or a party, a Geeks OUT meeting, or some kind of dirty bar in Brooklyn. I know that technically he joined the organization after it started, but in my mind he'd been there since the beginning. His presence looms large at every event and con we went to.
There's no shortage of stories I could tell about John's kindness, infectious humor, incredible planning skills or ability to be both kind and honest in a way I still try (poorly) to emulate.
He once threw a party for the premier of Luke Cage on Netflix (titled 'Luke Cage Free Eggs"). In the basement of a Manhattan bar that, post-Covid, I cannot believe was allowed to exist – let alone somewhere that I sat without a mask on eating eggs and drinking a pitcher of bottomless orange juice and "vodka" (possibly grain alcohol). He threw it together in a week, but it still had four drag queens, a series of team games, and prizes he'd snuck under chairs. It was incredible, and also dangerous to leave. (You really had to take those stairs out slowly after a John party).
John was also king of the "just one drink" gambit. Asking you out after a meeting or an event, for just one drink… But then you'd get there, and time would slip away. You'd find yourself listening to a story, unable to leave. Or you'd find yourself talking about an obscure comic book character, filled with ideas of what could have been.
But, my sharpest memory of John lives on my kitchen wall. It's a drawing of Wonder Woman, eating a gyro, while the Titanic sinks in the distance.
John gave it to me as a going-away present when I stepped down from the board of Geeks OUT, and moved to LA.
It's based on a very special inside joke about Wonder Woman selling gyros. “Special,” in that most inside jokes are funny to a group of people, but this joke is only funny to me.
Without going into details, I’ll say this joke usually ends with me saying “Gryyyyyyrooooossss”, as we'd sit eating dinner, or screaming "tzatziki!" whenever I saw mayonnaise. John was among the many, many people who were not charmed or amused by the joke. And still he made that artwork for me as I set off across the country.
So now, in the mornings, I stare at the artwork that John made. Artwork of a joke that he barely tolerated.
I think of John and his talent, his drive, and how unfair it is that soon becomes now becomes then.
And I hope it's a lesson I've learned and not a mistake I'll wind up repeating like the Wonder Woman joke.
TZATZIKI!
P.S.
About the Joke
The joke started on the floor of C2E2, a comic convention on Chicago where Geeks OUT tabled.
Tabling at a convention is exhausting. You spend the entire day on your feet, talking to strangers, trying to get them to pay attention to something you love. You develop skills similar to a carnival barker, spotting likely queers in a crowd and hollering at them.
Eventually, you get loopy, finding yourself saying the same pitch to new people over and over as your feet begin to ache.
And in that loopiness you talk about silly ideas.
And at C2E2 we talked about DCs Hall of justice.
The basic joke is this:
The hall of justice opens a food court and Wonder Woman opens a Gyro stand.
From there several other things have been added:
Batman also has a stand (I think it's burgers?)
Wonder woman over pronounces Gyros
Wonder woman does not understand what tzaki is, and so just serves heated mayonnaise
Wonder Woman pays her employees with gold coins
Wonder Woman travels through time (using the invisible jet) to important historical tragedies to film commercials for her gyro stand and, in doing so, she sometimes causes them.
That last part was contributed by Nic. Presumably caving to the pressure of long days of talking to strangers and restless nights spent in a cheap hotels, watching some of the worst cable TV has to offer.
This is lovely, Joey. I'm sorry it's so sad. You bring your friend to life, though.