March 8, 1971. Not such a big deal…unless you were a boxing fan. You’d think it was the only thing that happened in the whole world if you do a web search for the date. It was advertised simply as "THE FIGHT." No other words were necessary. The stupendous Muhammad Ali vs. Joe Frazier showdown of March 8, 1971 was perhaps the most anticipated event in all of sports history. Frazier kicked Ali’s butt in 15 rounds at Madison Square Garden.John Dmitri hated boxing.March 8, 1971. Not such a big deal. America was still stuck in the Vietnam War, and Radio Hanoi broadcasted Jimi Hendrix's "Star Spangled Banner" and it was (supposedly) a big deal.Oh…and British postal workers went back to work after seven weeks on strike.But one thing you won’t find on the web…until now. March 8, 1971 John Dmitri Kessler was born in Santa Barbara, California at Cottage Hospital. A normal-looking baby, there was no inkling yet of the personality that had come to visit us for what turned out to be such a short time. But that was not for long. Soon he was making up names for things that seemed to make more sense that what the objects were normally called, and asking questions like…was a fire engine “hot†and “What a color TV is?†(okay…he was like, two…). Then came the crazy-silly sense of humor that had you either pissing your pants with tears coming outta your eyes, or cocking your head to one side with a “huh?†look on your face….sometimes both! One time when he was eight-ish, he came up to me and told me to say “psssst!†while wiggling my finger at him (‘redrum’ style). Whatever…I did it and he threw himself at the floor, flopped on his back, arms and legs in the air flailing and twitching.“What the hell are you doing?†He got up, giggling so hard at his own joke he could barely talk, rubbing the spots where he had hit particularly hard on the linoleum floor. “You can’t tell?†he gasped between giggle-breaths. “WHAT the HELL was THAT?!†I asked again. A short silence while he gained control of his giggling, about to burst a blood vessel. “I’m a COCKROACH!!†and he ran away gleefully to show his perfected impression his other sister. SHE would need no explanation, I’m sure. They thought like twins, those two.Yeah...then the giggles hit me hard, too.November 26, 2003. Not such a big deal. A day like any other. Got up, went to work. Tried calling Johno…he’d left a message the night before when I’d missed his call. Phone-tag. We’re getting ready for Thanksgiving, coordinating the your-place/my-place/who-what-when…etc.But he didn’t get that message, the one I left. He didn’t wake up that day…November 26th 2003. He stopped breathing in his sleep sometime between 11:00 and Midnight the night before. He was 32 years old with sleep apnea and no medical insurance to pay for a CPAP machine.So, here are a few things now and then written by that crazy-silly kid turned introspective man (…oh, but he could still be so SILLY!)…his celebrations, his aguish, his bliss, his troubles. Read, enjoy, ponder, share your thoughts. It would make him so happy.~ Dy
