It is almost one whole year since my friend of 20 years, John Zosens, died.
Much of what I shared died with him... but only for a short time - the time of grief and mourning for his loss; the time of anger for him
leaving...
Mine is a special, very personal tribute to John, as most close friends would have it.
I met him through my partner, Bob, who had invited me to
become the lead singer of his band. After my acceptance of Bob’s offer to
sing, John was then asked to join, his first marriage having broken up, thus pushing his re-entry into a cold, single
world. That’s where our friendship began.
His love of music inspired me as it inspired others. He played bass guitar
for our five piece Rock & Roll Band, and I mean played. After a time, he
changed his stage instrument to electronic keyboard, using not one, but two, which he would sequence first at home.
He was a wizard with computers and took this science by putting it into music.
His voice too, was a much loved musical instrument, and one enjoyed through both hobby and stage.
John bought a beautiful Grand piano for himself after re-marrying in the 80s, and we spent many happy hours together at that Grand.
His taste in music was truly eclectic, and included everything from the themes of “South
Pacific,” “Phantom of the Opera” and “Cats,” to Chopin,
Mendellsohn, Bach and Beethoven, Rachmaninoff to Gershwin, The Beatles, The Beach Boys and
other popular music, particularly from the 60s. The list is long.
I loved John Zosens. He was not, at times, such an easy person to love. In
this we mirrored one another. Whilst he was an incredibly funny, witty and
great conversationalist, he was also a man who would, at times, cease to speak, closing himself off and withdrawing into his own world of
self-doubt and loneliness. He often queried the Earth and the Universe, and was not
always at peace with his place here. He deeply believed in the spiritual
side of the whys and wherefores of cosmic life, yet could not, would not, come to terms with it.
How I hope he has found the answers to all his questions now...
John was a brilliant man. He excelled in everything academic; everything
sporting, everything musical, and all from an early age. He regularly cycled, lifted weights, swam...
and in his pursuit of happiness even
took up skate-boarding at an age when I, personally, would certainly have hung up any outdoor sport for something more sedentary.
What was even more amazing to me is that having been diagnosed with cancer, he decided to try his hand
again at surfing. He had been a keen surfer as a teenager, and now, at the
age of 52, his hair bleached blonde, his body and soul suffering the pain inflicted by cancer and its treatment, he decides to whisk himself off to
the city to buy the latest new surf board, where he would take it out to ride the waters of
Port Melbourne. He was only able to ride his precious new board once or
twice, the cruelty of his disease not permitting him to continue.
John excelled at school and university as he excelled in everything. He was
a genius with computers, and there were times he would, at the drop of a hat, drive from Port Melbourne to my home, no short trip, to save me from
myself and my computer. His knowledge of PCs was mind-boggling; What appeared to be a complex, technical problem to me was solved in an instant
by him. When he would explain and demonstrate the remedies required, I
would inevitably have great difficulty understanding, and would happily leave him to sort out my technical problems by disappearing into the
kitchen to make him a cup of coffee - black, no sugar, and topped up with
cold water.
John was a close friend, and he would place his trust in me at times when he needed to confide in someone of his troubles and grief.
It was only after he died that I discovered how much emotional pain he really was in,
and how many personal crises there were. It is fair to say that I was shocked, more than
once, as his true life began to emerge, and how many painful secrets he had held so closely to his chest.
I feel so very sorry for that. I always will.
He was there for me on the rare times I felt comfortable enough to expose my own feelings that came with my frequent depression and anxieties.
More often than not I would unwittingly display, through my action or inaction,
my own pain, and he could and would be annoyed, even irritated, about my moods.
This was something we talked about not long before he died, and he agreed that his discomfort was simply a projection of his own fears.
Neither of us liked the fact that we may not be perfect.
John and I traded nick-names throughout our twenty-year relationship, and I do not remember him ever calling me by anything other than “Ziggosaurus” or
“Zaggy” until he became terribly ill. Only then did he call me by my name.
Following his second marriage breakdown, John felt as low as a human being ought to.
As much as I tried to encourage him, his pain was too deep. Again, I had not realized how deep until it was too late.
Master in the computer world, the working world and the sporting world, he was forever
the student when it came to personal relationships. He struggled to understand and learn about the female gender.
He read book after book in his search for understanding the human mind and behavior, and particularly
strived to understand women and his relationships with them. More, he was
trying to understand and learn about himself so he could change in order to turn his life around.
How could he find the love he so needed? He approached the search for happiness with an
intensity that bordered on obsession, such was his need for love... a wife...
children.
John was never to fulfill this, his greatest dream... nor did he fulfill his
dream of traveling the world, or trading his eye-glasses to have the latest laser surgery to correct his
short-sightnedness, something he had talked about since our first meeting.
What he did achieve in fulfilling as a life-long dream was the purchase of his own home in Port Melbourne.
Here, he could be close to work and the beach. He cycled to work every day, and after work, would head for the
beach to enjoy more cycling, swimming - depending on the weather, and more importantly, to indulge in bird-watching...
of the human kind.
He took pleasure in being amongst other people; this was an opportunity for him to
meet women as they were to be found in the water, on the sand and on their boards or bikes.
John would have preferred to have met up and talked with one or two...
better still, to bring one home and set up house...
John Zosens was a unique human being who displayed his individuality in the clothes he wore, the places he went and the people he knew. In a
conservative career environment that expected nothing less than a strict business dress code, John would flash a pair of bright yellow socks, maybe
red or pink and covered with quirky quotes taken from who-knew-where.
He wore equally zany ties and his wardrobe was filled with film and Disney characters... Tweety Bird ties, Betty Grable’s legs, with Daffy as a
favourite... fairly summing up my dear friend Jonn, the character’s credo being that of “one lone black duck”.
With John, what you saw at first glance was never what you got, if you took the
time to get closer. He epitomized what it meant to live in parallel
worlds... for every thing he did, and every thing he said, he would,
simultaneously do the opposite.
A paradox of a man and a gem of a friend. A rare and passionate human being.
A great colleague. A stiff competitor and mean opponent. A mind oft
full of trouble, a mind full of love. A man of needs... needs that
could often be so challenging for him. A high-spirited man...
sometimes,
not so high spirited; nurturing, caring, sensitive... over-sensitive.
I love and miss you, Zobo.
Your own little Ziggy
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My dear "Bud"
You have touched my life in so many ways - it's difficult to know
where to begin and where to end.
You were my best mate during childhood and teenage years - my mentor and protector.
Your bright, outgoing, adventurous nature provided a much needed balance to my quiet, introspective world. I vividly recall the long summers with their Huckleberry Finn adventures that you coaxed me into. The mind boggling rafts that you constructed with great precision from bits and pieces from the neighbourhood tip, carried us on many intrepid and, at times, disastrous journeys down the Plenty River.
And, there was that brilliant, inquisitive mind that stored information like it had a zillion gig of RAM. You shared your incredibly broad knowledge with me and challenged me mentally to always ask "why?"
Technically innovative, at a young age, you designed and assembled a Morse code type of system using light bulbs so that we could signal each other from room to room. Your many self-constructed contraptions and techno-magic filled my childhood with awe and inspiration.
The scientific and mathematical discipline that you imparted and patiently trained me in, have been an invaluable corner- stone in my life.
And yet another fabulous creative side - you filled the family home with music. There are few mornings I can remember not waking to the sound of piano accordion, recorder, piano or guitar. You passed on to me your great love of Musicals. To this very day, I can still remember almost every word, every note of every Musical score that we endlessly poured over during our childhood and teenage years.
What sport didn't you try or excel at? Here, too, you particularly coached me so I could, in a neighbourhood of all boys, take part in sporting games and be on a par with your peers. You were always happy to have me as your little companion in all your games and adventures.
There are few acquired skills that weren't imparted to me by you - from shuffling cards, swimming, performing mathematical short-cuts, reading music, playing chess to driving a car (including drag starts) - the list is infinite. You also cheerfully gave much of yourself to encouraging and nurturing my innate skills and talents - always positive and ready to give praise and acknowledgement when deserved.
You were a helpful, patient, caring individual who was always eager to contribute to and foster personal growth in others. With an endless supply of good humour and patience, you handled my many stuff ups with sensitivity and diplomacy.
Above all, you loved me and protected me because you valued the individual that I was. I treasure the warmth and security that you instilled into my life.
I recall an outing to the football with neighbours when you were about ten years old. We lost you in the crowd at the end of the match, and you had to find your own way home (about 20 kms). Arriving home without you, I couldn't eat my tea. There was a huge knot in my stomach. I was so worried that you wouldn't get home. I burst into tears which was quite something for an incredibly self-contained young girl who never cried in public. I loved you "to bits" and couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I'll never forget the relief I felt when you walked through the door with that charismatic smile of yours.
Our adult years saw us very much preoccupied with our separate lives. But the strong emotional bond that existed between us was never broken and came into the foreground during difficult times.
In April 2000, dark clouds gathered on the horizon and by late June loomed directly overhead. I felt an immense, wrenching knot in my stomach as I watched you rapidly slipping away. A sword penetrated my heart. I knew that, this time, you wouldn't "get home."
I will always be deeply moved by the courage and dignity you showed during the last very difficult week of your life.
You were the link to and the key player in the happy side of my childhood and teenage years.
I will always love you, dear "Bud", with all my heart and soul.
(Rita)