Uncle John

John Farrell Jones

October 12th, 1970 - April 16, 2025

In my early childhood, I spent most weekends at my Grandma Pat's house in Cheney, WA.

With a 12 year age gap, Uncle John lived at home until I was 6. When I walked through the door, he'd greet me with, "hey Lissa Lou!" and love. He'd ask about life as we observed blue Bachelor Buttons, Poppy seed pod maracas, toppling Chicken and Hens, the Erratic Rock in Grandma's yard, antique marbles, earthworms, hand lettering and detailed cartoons. John led with curiosity and instilled in me that optimism is possible in the face of adversity. His perception of the world was beautiful and nurtured my young spirit. In many ways, I looked up to him like a brother.

John told stories of treasure in Grandma's yard, hidden long ago. One day, he actually suggested we go out and try to find the treasure. I followed him across the grass, maneuvering through the bushes, until we reached an 'X' formed by sticks.

I began digging and discovered actual "gold"! Little did I know, John had placed the "gold" days before - a souvenir spoon from Yellowstone National Park.

John would often play records at Gramdma's house when I was little. He knew Jimmy Deans, "Big Bad John" by heart and had been singing it since he was a child. He sang in front of me a handful of times and knew every word. He truly could put on a good show. Mom helped plant those silly, theatrical seeds when John was little. She still shares stories about dressing John up for the numerous skits they performed.

According to Grandma, John's ability to crack people up started the moment he could talk. One of the stories was of John in first grade. She said that he strongly expressed that his teacher gave the best hugs. Soon after, while sitting next to Grandma at conferences, John decided to tell his teacher that he loved her hugs and her "Wonger-monger-bow-bows". I can hear Grandma cracking up now.

John was also an amazing illustrator. Watching him draw funny characters with over the top personalities was thrilling. One snowy evening, he spent over an hour drawing and coloring "Bob and Tod" on the back of a large paper sack. Sitting at Grandma's kitchen table, sipping Lipton tea and making art with Uncle John was my "happy place". "Bob and Tod" was the first piece of art that I insisted be framed. With it's flimsy cardboard pop-out stand, the same brass frame holds the illustration today.

John and my father both During my Junior year at W.S.U., I became the cartoonist for the university newspaper, The Daily Evergreen. "The Daily Doodle" became my strip. As I got older, we shared admiration for illustrators dealing with the dark realities of life. David Firth is an artist we both admired. From Drillbithead to Salad Fingers, we agreed this genre was beautifully twisted and revealed rare glimpse into the human psyche.

He also owned a guitar that was tucked away in a storage closet under my Grandma's stairwell. As a kid, I was terrified of that closet. In 2002, on a weekend visit to Grandma's, we'd made plans to organize her basement. She had me grab a few things from the back of the closet under the stairs. There, tucked away, hidden in the back corner of the closet was an acustic guitar; The L.A..

Grandma wasn't 100% sure, but she thought it might belong to John. When I called John about the guitar, he told me it was given to him from a musician friend who passed away years prior. He asked me if I played, assuming so because of my dad. The fact was, I'd always had a desire to play, but hadn't. Many of my friends in Pullman played and were constantly jamming. During that phone call, he told me to dust her off take her back to school. Soon after, I learned "Horse with No Name" and played it until my friends' ears bled.

Years passed and I started attending Washington State University. From time to time, I'd escape to Seattle to visit John and Soo-Min. This exposed me to the wonder of The Market, Capitol Hill, dim sum, real coffee; new sights, smells, tastes and sounds.

This is when I started to witness the love between John and Soo-Min. They understood each other. When I was with them, I remember thinking “I hope to find that kind of love”; compassion, patience and acceptance for each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Thanks to Soo-Min, I was introduced to Bulgogi. At their adorable apartment in Renton, Soo-Min created the most delicious Bulgogi feast from scratch; chili sauce over thin marinated beef, wrapped in crisp greens from Uwajimaya. We feasted around their coffee table with Hannah-who running around and 80's playing in the background. Forever Young by Alphaville still reminds me of that trip in 2003.

Lastly, John's love for Volkswagen. When He and Soo-Min had their apartment in Renton, John rented a garage to restore his Porsche. Deep into my art degree at W.S.U., I remember relishing in his appreciation and enthusiasm for unique design. It was often raining during my visits to the garage, which I remembered smelled like leather, oil and rain. Magic. He let me drive the Porsche to Fred Meyer and back a handfull of times. I felt like James Bond.

When I was a tot, John would say "Lis, you're going to drive a Karmann Ghia". Throughout the years, I reminded him of this verbal nugget he gave me as a child. Looking back, he was a teen himself, so obviously it was a long shot. To this day, Karmann Ghias are always on my radar.

In late January, my Grandma Pat passed away. I would never have imagined in a million years that John would be gone just three months later. When we traveld up from Tricities for Grandma's service, we stayed at her house. It was sureal getting ready that morning in the bathroom I grew up in. As everyone was preparing to leave the house, John walked up tot he bathroom. This was to be our last personal moment together. He said, "Lis, you did it". I asked, "did what?", he replied, "made it" and gestured towards Kent and the kids. Then gave me a big hug. He valued love and could see our little family had plenty.

John's praise during that visit is now invaluable.