first meetings

I met John H. on my very first day in Tucson. The year was 1990; I was 12 and had just moved from Las Vegas. His mom, a real estate agent (among other talents), had sold my parents their house. I don't remember much about that first meeting except for a brief discussion about the movie Gremlin's 2, swimming in Justin Roylance's pool (whom I would meet again 8 years later in San Francisco), and feeling a bit like a dorky stranger in a strange land.

Early that same fall--maybe a month later, I was invited to Justin's Waterworld (different Justin, much different pool) with John and a different friend, Mat Richins. It was clear that my presence there that day was not the idea of the boys but was a mercy-invite by John's sweet mom. I was clearly a third wheel, and all I really remember is sore feet from walking over the hot gravel of the sub-par water "world's" parking lot. I don't remember much about the waterpark, but I must have complained about how ridiculous and puny it was compared to Vegas's Wet 'n' Wild. This didn't impress the older boys. Later, and in one last effort to make friends, I dropped some salty "cool Las Vegas kid" language. I'll never forget what John said in reply. It was classic John. He looked at me and said, dryly: "not cool, man."

And it wasn't--I wasn't.

It wasn't until much later, years later, even, that I would understand cool.

Thanks to John.

--Stone