Jon
I’m going to tell you a story I never imagined telling in this space. But it seems, in some way — appropriate. And I don’t think Jon would mind. (Hopefully everyone else involved won’t either.) Here goes…
In the before times (pre-covid) Adam and I often triple dated with Jon Lind and his wife Sue, and another couple — Alex and Charlton. We were constantly on the look-out for yummy places to feed our foodie fix. We heard about a Chinese restaurant way out in Alhambra (not a hop/skip from LA), that was supposed to be delicious and authentic to the region. Off we went in Charlton’s SUV.
We ordered the top dishes on the menu and indeed they were super tasty. And hot. And spicy. I mean, REALLY REALLY spicy. Almost intolerably Spicy.
But we were not backing down. The chop sticks kept moving. We ate and slurped in silence peeking up at each other to see if anyone else at the table was turning as red, sweating as profusely, and gulping down as much ice water. We finished that meal and laughed about it all the way home.
The next morning, well, how can I say it? What goes in must come out…and there in the privacy of my bathroom something didn’t feel right — a fiery sensation the likes of which I never experienced. WTF? And should I call a doctor?
Then I remembered: The Meal. I texted Alex and Sue. Was it just me? It was not. Apparently everyone was experiencing the same symptoms. Thank god! The six of us got on a group text to discuss: What should we call this condition? IBS? IBD, UT? Leave it to Jon to nail the perfect acronym. “It was … AB. Ass-Burn.” With that we felt some closure, and delighted in reflecting on that insane event (and the morning after) in the years to come especially when we needed a laugh.
Jesus, do we need a laugh.
I lost my good friend Jon Lind to cancer on Jan 15. If you’re in the music business you most likely lost a friend too. If you did, I have no doubt you have an hilarious story of your own to tell, in which Jon was involved.
I met Jon on a songwriting blind date circa 1996. Always aspiring to “write up” Jon met that criteria for me as I had yet to have a hit and Jon was coming off of “Crazy For You,” “Save The Best For Last” and “Boogie Wonderland.”
He spoke that day about his journey of self-improvement…his recovery from “certain behaviors.” I wasn’t sure what his sins were and I didn’t ask a lot of questions but it was inspiring to witness someone so dedicated to their internal struggle. That was 26 year ago. His journey never stopped.
Over the years Jon transitioned to A&R and then management (where he was able to give many a deserving songwriter a break or find a gifted artist an amazing song). We’d meet often for breakfast to discuss our adventures in the music business. He — the consummate story-teller, weaving (just like the melodies in his songs) around details and developments until he finally got to the point — loved seeing my jaw drop when he finished. And I loved every minute of the ride.
Jon had a way of making me feel like we had a special connection. A “thing.” I now realize that he made everyone feel that way. I’m in no way disappointed that I wasn’t the only one. My thing with him was special. Unique. As was all the others. The idea that so many people wanted to cultivate a “thing” with Jon Lind says a lot about the man.
Cancer fucking sucks. Sometimes we can beat it but if and when it doesn’t want to be beaten, we might as well forget about it. Until last week I was holding out hope for a miracle. If anyone could pull one off Jon could. And boy, did he try.
Jon was so full of life and light, gratitude, energy and humor and in the end courage and grace. He’s left us with this gaping hole. The equilibrium of our community is OFF. How do we adjust? How do we proceed? How do we honor?
Why do some people get to stay and some people have to leave? Is there a God that says “you’ve worked on yourself…and because you have it all figured out you need to come with me. The rest of you dysfunctional people need some more time.”?
You know how we say we must cherish every day? Jon did that. No one had to remind him.
He loved the love of his life — Sue, her daughter, his daughters, grandkids, friends…
I keep thinking about a prescient line in the one song we wrote, ”I will never be the same for having known you.” No doubt I can speak for all of us when I say … we will miss you as the world spins madly on, we were crazy for you and absolutely nobody will be the same for having known you. We’re so very lucky we did. 💔
From Sue….
