Tribute to John Bishock

Return to John's memorial page...

Every once in a while the phrase "larger than life" is used to describe someone. I believe that particular idiom was invented for John. My virginal encounter with him was selling palms at a chapter meeting side by side. At the time I likened myself as some sort of a "know it all" for palm cultivation. But the little fish (me) had entered the big pond for the 1st time. During the weekend I would be asked about this or that rare palm, most often I wouldn't have much to say. John would sometimes hear these exchanges, and pronounce (politely) in his matter of fact way "I've got several of those growing at my place". I would quickly exit stage left, leaving John to finish the story. After a while I just pointed at John whenever anyone approached with slightest bit of query to their face.

At meetings I would be standing just out of earshot from him. As soon as I heard that voice it was as if I was pulled to his colloquial discourse like some sort of magnetic beam. Like every great story teller it wasn't so much what he said but the way he said it. Fast & loose, details flying in from every direction, all wrapped in a boundless enthusiasm. The old "it couldn't grow here" excuse was an exercise in futility with him. Glass half full indeed, I truly believe he could have talked Dick Cheney into voting Democrat. Unsure of my audience I'll spare this group some of his un-politically incorrect (tho good natured) stories, someone really could write a book ... or two. Sometimes I serve as auctioneer for our central Fla. meetings. I will never ever forget the day that John (no doubt influenced by liquid refreshment), wound up bidding against himself for some palm (that Faith later informed him) he possessed maybe a dozen of, back home. She learned quickly not to leave him alone at these events. These cool weathered nights remind me I'll miss the overnight chats our small internet group had during the coldest nights when a freeze was about to approach. Once the damage was underway it was almost like some sort of subversive contest to see who would suffer the worst.

I owe author extraordinaire Bob Riffle this life lesson. I never met Bob in person, tho' we often emailed during his last book writing, about getting together nearly every month. Foolishly I always thought there would be enough time, when the cold truth is, no such thing exists. So three weeks ago to this day I drove out to John & Faith's with my friend Mike Dahme. We didn't go to see their vast eclectic collection, but to just to see them. Despite the all medicine John had that full head of shaggy hair, and a cigarette in one hand and a beer (non-alcoholic) in the other. Physically he seemed a bit sapped of energy while talking about his condition. Once the conversation turned to palms he became alert and as feisty as ever, even commandeered a golf cart around the property, peppering us with various comments and anecdotes. By the end of the day I swore he was coming back to us.

The number of palms and seeds he gave to me, the chapter & others by far outnumbers the palms he sold. His generous spirit far outweighed any capitalistic inclinations he possessed. I didn't converse with him nearly as much as I would have liked to, or should have. I'll sit in this stupid chair tonight, slam back a few and get drunk off my a**, thinking of John, and Faith (no way to think of one without the other). Most likely of small solace to her but my life is better for knowing them. Did you ever wonder if your life would make a great movie? John's life would.