All my life I've hated piano lessons. 45 minutes of being told how to move my fingers in ways that I just couldn't do, and dealing with the embarrassment when I couldn't play the music in front of me because I hadn't practiced over the week. But when I was with Uncle Jonny, I remember not only taking pride in my piano lessons but desperately wanting him to teach me more. I remember being in constant awe of his raw natural talent, and just wanting to learn from this musical genius. Even though I continued to hate the actual lessons because of Uncle Jonny I sat at the piano and played everything I could because it made me happy. Uncle Jonny made me enjoy playing the piano, even if I had to sit through the lessons. It has come to a point now where I've been given the option to continue my piano lessons or not, and I've chosen to continue. Not only because I know Uncle Jonny would want me to keep learning, but also because nothing makes me feel closer to him than sitting down at the piano and learning how to play another Beatles song. I sit down at that piano and think of him talking to me and teaching me not how to play but how to love the music. He taught me the love for playing piano, and that's the greatest lesson I could've asked for.

I just came back from visiting Uncle Jonny. It was a good day for him.
He was making eye-contact, stringing words together, sometimes he
would even respond to people when they spoke to him. And when Sean
played the piano, sometimes if we were really lucky, for a second he
would start to sing too. It was these moments during the weekend that
were the most exciting and the most saddening. One time, when I was
feeding him dinner he said, "Sammi?" My heart started beating so fast
and I said "Yes Uncle Jonny?" He simply said, "how you doing best
buddy?" And then the moment ended, but it was this moment that made me
so happy yet so sad. He remembered me. No matter where he is mentally
right now, somehow even for just a moment, I was with him. As
wonderful as this made me feel, it's these brief moments of Uncle
Jonny shining through his sickness that are so hard. It's when you
realize that he's still there. He's still the most amazing person that
we all know and love, just wrapped in a layer of Alzheimer's. No
matter how much he starts or continues to slip away, somehow he'll
always be with us and we'll always be with him, and this is the
happiest and saddest truth of my uncle.

I was talking to my parents one night when we were talking about memories. I was saying how remembering events and things I’ve done was different than an actual memory in my opinion. I was saying how I have fragments of memories where I remember myself in that exact place and time. It’s a different feeling; it’s like just for a moment you’re in that place again. I have few of these as most people do, but even fewer with Uncle Jonny where I can actually remember something from my point of view instead of just remembering an event. One of these memories is Uncle Jonny & Aunt Hildy were staying with us for the weekend and after school on my way home I had stepped in dog poop. Uncle Jonny instantly and selflessly had offered to clean my shoes. I distinctly remember running as fast as I could into my parents’ room and seeing Uncle Jonny kneeling over the toilet holding my shoe and a toothpick. I remember laughing so hard and being so happy. This memory is so strong that I can remember Uncle Jonny looking up and smiling and saying something but I can’t remember what he said, and that’s all I remember of the moment. Every moment I have with Uncle Jonny, I’m always laughing or smiling or just so happy no expression can describe it. It takes a great man to make picking poop out of an old sneaker a moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

Out of all the people I've talked to, all the posts I've read, when talking about Uncle Jonny the most common word used is “special.” I guess there’s no other way to some up Jonny in one world other than “special.” He is musically gifted, incredibly smart, he was athletic, hilarious, loving, and all around special. But what made Uncle Jonny different was the way he made people feel. He walked into a room and you felt special. He’d look at you and smile and you felt special. That’s all he had to do. It was like he has this type of happiness that just pores out of him into everyone he sees. Many people have thanked me for creating this blog and creating a place for people to just talk about the amazing times they had with Jonny. But really the person we should be thanking is Uncle Jonny for making these moments happen. We should be thanking him for making everyone one of us feel so special.

This blog wouldn’t work for everyone. A blog similar to this could be thought of only as a loss. But when I look at this blog, wow. Look how my Uncle Jonny changed the lives of so many people, not only just my family and me. Uncle Jonny was such an incredible man that everyone just smiles when they think of him. He’s inspirational, memorable, kind, incredibly talented, and I’ve never felt luckier to call him my Uncle Jonny. He had this way of just making you feel good. There’s no other way to describe it other than you were always happy when you were with Uncle Jonny no matter what you were doing. I remember when we were walking home from dinner one night in New York. We were walking back to my house when a homeless man came up to us and started singing. He had been looking for money but when he started singing so did Uncle Jonny. His face was startled at first, he had not expected someone to start singing with him, but by the end of the block I've never seen someone’s face more lit up. Uncle Jonny had made this homeless man so happy just singing along with him. Uncle Jonny has the power to make everyone feel good, even a homeless man on 86th street on a cold Saturday night.

I remember summer 2008 when I spent a week in Manistee, MI with Uncle Jonny. Although being with my family made it an amazing week, watching Uncle Jonny struggle to put on his jacket and not be able to figure out how to eat a chicken finger really got to me. Seeing Uncle Jonny like this made me think where did he go? That’s not my Uncle Jonny in there. He almost felt like a different person. But then we put an African drum in his hand and like magic he was my Uncle Jonny all over again. I could sit on that deck singing Under the Boardwalk with him forever. When he sang, it was like I could see right through his sickness and see my Uncle Jonny like he used to be. It was those moments when the sun blazed down on us that I didn’t think about the fact that he didn’t remember my name, but that he remembered the lyrics to every song we sang. That was Uncle Jonny. That’s who he was and who he is. The musician.

Uncle Jonny showed me music is more than just a melody. Music is the way some one feels and the way someone can live even if they’re sick. I remember going to Ann Arbor when I was very young and sitting with Uncle Jonny as he played the piano. I remember sitting on the piano bench next to him watching his fingers fly across the keyboard. He would never play with sheet music, just the music inside of him flying out of his fingertips. I remember staring at his hands and when he stopped he would always say, “only the white keys, those are the beautiful ones.” He then told me to play and when I didn’t want to because I was shy and didn’t play the piano well he said, “you can never play a wrong note on this piano.” As the years went on and I got older and older I would watch him play and every time I’d try to see if he played a black key and he didn’t, and of course he never played a wrong note.