There is nothing warmer and more endearing than John’s laugh. He’s one of the few legends I’ve interviewed who actually can’t wait to laugh—provided there’s a reason to do so. He seems to love laughing the way a foodie loves a roadside sandwich or a car person loves a vintage engine. There’s gusto, passion and intelligence behind John’s laugh, like someone who intimately understands how humor and funny bones work. When you’ve successfully said something witty, there’s always this pause on John’s end as he absorbs it, rolls it around in his mind and thinks about it from every angle—as though inspecting its merit and value. This period of judgment lasts just a few seconds, but it always seems much longer. Then, if you’ve been successful, there’s a light laugh from John, as though a special part of his personality has awakened and begun to taken notice—a part that knows a thing or two about people and enjoys life. Then as you start to laugh with him, John’s whole being gives way and joins in as his soul and spirit become engaged. When he laughs fully with you, it sounds like a audience is laughing. It’s a rolling laugh, with highs, lows and middles. In your mind, it’s the way a spring willow shimmers in a May breeze. And as his laugh winds down, you notice there are little extra laugh surges as John appears to appreciate other aspects of what you’ve just said. Of course, a laugh like that encourages you to find other funny things to say, just to hear it all again. And that’s when you realize that in addition to being a great bassist, a great manager and a great husband, John also is exceptionally human, which is what I suspect what everyone has loved about John for decades. I once asked John what the secret of longevity was. On reflection, I now think I have my answer. Here’s to that great big laugh—and how it makes others feel. I love you John.