One Down…Two To Go

I’ve known three  friends in my life 

named  John White…one just died.

I lived with my first John White in two

different shared houses two different

times in Boulder. He married and moved 

to Thailand. We have the same birthday.

The third John White is my poet/writer buddy

I met through Keith Dowman. You live in 

Kentucky, don’t you…somewhere south 

anyway.

The Second John White, the one who just died, 

I met here in Tepoztlan shortly after I arrived 

thirteen years ago, almost to the day. He, 

our friend, Barry, and I were frequent 

companions in the first few years I was here…

outrageous drinking buddies who had our own 

little “salon” atop Barry’s roof, where we got to 

know each other very quickly, with added 

guests that wandered in and out of the “scene”.

This John White was cantankerously into the

Buddhist “scene” in Tepoztlan, but his wisdom

was Taoist. This John White opened a brothel

in Cuernavaca when he was sixteen (it was only

open part of a night, until the real criminals came

in with their guns and the game was over). This 

John White studied law in California until he 

tried marijuana, and decide…..nah. This John 

White was a ski bum in Switzerland for years. 

This John White had a failing heart valve and 

knew he was going to die. This John White told 

us he was ready to die, that he knew how 

he wanted to go out, and, listening to him, he 

sounded like one of the sanest men I had ever 

heard.

Sombre De Sabina was the restaurant where 

this John White, myself, Barry, and others 

would gather to have brunch on Fridays.

Honestly, these last few months, this John 

White was more cheerful than I’d ever known 

him. The restaurant closed just a few weeks 

ago, and we no longer had a place to meet.

My only regret is that this John White never 

told me what he thought about the MDMA.