Uncle Johnny with his daughter & grandson...


Uncle Johnny with his grandson.


Uncle Johnny's truck, now a part of the Birdsong family. 78 Chevy "Big 10". We named it Buster, in honor of an old lazy three-balled dog he had.

 
This is a flag some friends flew over their headquarters in Johnny's honor... far, far away. We also sent them some of Johnny's music stuff to use in their services and for troop morale. They have a band named the "FUBAR Fighters" and sent us a T-shirt. They also sent us the flag, which was presented to the family. Be safe, gentlemen.


Doin' what he did best... pickin out a song. Was this "Who's Gonna Cut The Cheese (Now That Grampa's Gone Away)"? "Too Old To Be a Hero Anymore"? "Bendin' Strings & Breakin' Wind?" God, I miss him. "See yeh when I see yeh."


The woodshop of Uncle Johnny. So much magic happened in there, so many lessons. You'd go in, flip the breaker, and on came the lights and this grungy old dented radio set to the country station. It's quiet now... but the ripples will spread for a long, long time. Trust me.


In my workshop is a piece of board found in his shop with a message to me on it... ok, Johnny. I'll do it. I built it into a workbench...



And that corner now...





...is the little corner I light incense and give my prayers of thanks every morning. That white canister holds sawdust I cleaned out of some of his shop tools... dust from his last projects. As far as I'm concerned, those are the man's earthly remains.  You had to know him. He'd love this. 

Pics of what this shop looks like now, disassembled, hauled by the pickup load in Joe the '74 Dodge pickup, and reconfigured on our homestead...

His floor, mostly his walls, all his windows... I cut it into truck-sized pieces and with much help, reassembled large pieces of it.
More to come of this, workshop #2...



Here are some pics Suzanne shared with us for this page.






Johnny's business card for one of the few things he did better than make breakfast tacos out of whatever was in his fridge... he was an artist at that & many other things, but what he'd do (mostly working alone) with lumber was beyond belief. It just worked with him, that's the only way I can describe it. He worked with it, but the wood worked with him. 








I know that smile on Johnny; a song line about "An ol' brisket-headed boy named Chuck..." must've been coming together. 

More to come, come back 'n visit again sometime.

Back to the John Kirtland Memorial page... "Talk atchya later..."