by Steven B. Orkin
It is an unfortunate truth that I often end up using this
space to mark the passing of someone significant to me, be they housecat or
parent. It’s part of my grieving and healing process to speak of them. Unlike
life, words are almost always reliable. They come forth when I need them, ready
to help me (and hopefully you, dear reader) in some small, meaningful way.
I wish I could tell you I knew John Pitts well. I wish I could
share some unique and heretofore hidden insight or memory about who he was. I
can’t. All I can do is use my God-given gift to engage in a little word-weaving
sorcery, cast a spell to articulate what John meant to me, capture a flicker of
his irrepressible spirit and light a candle of memory with it in his honor.
I’ve known John since high school, notably between 1980 and
1982 during our days in the North Babylon High School chorus. There are times
in our lives when life seems to be firing on all thrusters, when we have a
sense that we are experiencing fleeting, special moments that will never recur.
That period, and specifically, that choir, was one of those times for me. A lot
of that had to do with the remarkable Tony Eastwood, easily among the finest (maybe
THE finest) musical educators I’ve ever known. He led our group with charisma,
style, spirit, talent, and audacity, and we reflected it right back at him. We
inspired each other to reach farther, achieve more, be more, which is the very essence
of what educating is all about.
But it was also defined for me by two of its members. I’m confident
that I speak for every single person in that ensemble when I say it’s
physically impossible to not smile at the mere mention of the names John Pitts
and Benjamin Sandoval. Good-vibe mischief-makers of the highest order, they
never failed to make rehearsals and performances fun, funny, and unpredictable.
Life is an uncertain business, but those two guys never failed to deliver on
interesting, whether good-naturedly riffing on each other or someone else, or presenting yet another ‘liberated’ street sign to what turned out to be a
near-criminal volume of them splattered across the chorus room walls by the end
of the school year.
John in particular always seemed to have a special kind of iconic
magic about him. Though we weren’t ‘hang-out-after-school’ close, he
nevertheless always had a kind word for me in class or when we passed each
other in the halls. Though far more popular and in many respects, more accomplished
than I was, he never spoke down to me or anyone else so far as I know. He was
always all about the good stuff, and any thought or memory of him I have always
includes that big, Cheshire Cat grin, full of warmth, love, and humor, topped
by those big, wide eyes, ever-bright with impending mischief, and accompanied by that wonderful, joyous laugh.
As time passed, we eventually connected on Facebook, sporadically
passing messages back and forth. The mutual respect and appreciation we had for
each other felt like something that went beyond the specifics of our
friendship, if that makes sense, and I greatly valued that deep, meaningful connection.
John had a special way of focusing on people, even if only for a few moments. He
appreciated them, made them feel like they held importance, that they mattered. He valued and validated
them in an understated, sincere way that is impossible to replicate or even fully define.
Going beyond my personal affection for him, John always represented
something to aspire to. Smart, funny, talented, and loving, you couldn't help but admire him. I’m sure
he will continue to inspire me as I continue on my road of life, and I am deeply
grateful to have known him well enough to call him friend.
In the Jewish faith, there is a phrase commonly used for
those who have passed: “May his memory be for a blessing.” Certainly, John’s memory
is nothing less than a sublime blessing. The world was a better place for his
presence, and it is dimmer for his passing. As I said at the start, I can’t say
I knew him as well as I would have liked, but I can say this much: He was a man
of faith, wit, warmth, intelligence, and positivity. He was loved, and he loved
others. I think that’s as good a way to define a life well-lived as any. At the
end of the day, not much else matters, and by that standard, the life of John
Pitts was a spectacular success.
May God forever be with him, his family, and all who love and care
about him.
PS (5/6/20 update): I had one of those 2 AM revelations that required me to post this brief addendum. Several years ago, John and I discovered we had a shared passion for the wonderful acapella group, Take 6. He had posted a link to their very first single, 'Spread Love' and in response, I shared a later track of theirs titled, appropriately enough, 'My Friend' featuring the legendary Ray Charles. It's too poetically just not to share that link with you now. Crank up the volume as high as you can stand it, and bask in the glory of this song's immaculate harmony and beautiful message.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJMQgPM2ai0
Thank you for reading.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJMQgPM2ai0
Thank you for reading.
~~~
I retrieved this photo from John’s FB page.
I’m pretty sure it’s his high school yearbook photo
but regardless, I think it captures his ebullient
spirit quite effectively. Rest in Peace, old friend…
~~~
