It feels a bit foolish to try and capture what I consider to be a picture of John Carson as I knew him. My experiences with him spanned several eras of my life, and he related to me consistently even though my obsessions or perceptions may have been very inconsistent.

I first met John in my Sophomore year of college when I met Kathryn and Margaret and we began spending many weekends at their home in Salt Lake City. Then, John was the quiet one in the big chair who just teased me and for whom I played the straight man. Sometimes, in those early years of getting to know John I wasn't sure how to take him. I was always impressed however, by his constant respect and obvious admiration for his parents and sisters, I recognized this was someone with whom I wanted to understand and to feel entirely comfortable.

I remember we used to go with John when he raced his slot cars. He usually didn't need a wheel chair or any other kind of assistance in those days and there he would stand with feet crossed, hand poised solidly to work his vehicles and the great poker face that aided him so much with his sense of humor, he would race for hours. I'm not sure whether I ever really knew how well he did because there was rarely a change of expression in win or loss.

When I lived at the Carson's while I did my student teaching I came to appreciate John more than ever. This is when he used to lighten my load every night as I moaned and groaned over the lack of help I received from my cooperating teacher. He always had some school teacher or foreign language joke, or should I say dry witty comment to make, that would help me keep things in perspective. This is when I finally realized he liked me as well as the others who frequented the Carson home. I started getting the same kind of little tid bits his sisters used to get so that we all knew how smart John was; this is when I got that same respect that made the teasing feel like I was at home there and accepted by this family. He allowed me this privilege even though by this time he knew I could never keep up because I simply didn't have the same gift for cleverness and wit that this whole family had and thrived on.

It was 8 or 9 years later that I had what I would consider my most significant experience with John. It was at this point that John had decided he wanted an active involvement in the Church. Of course, his first choice was a singles ward. He inquired about the one that I was in at the time. I wondered if this was a social move for John and questioned whether he would find enough people in the branch who would appreciate him enough to make the effort of attending worth it. By this time John had to use a wheel chair more frequently, and his health was more precarious than it had been in years past (or so it seemed to me).

John's spiritual commitment to activation soon become apparent even though one rarely saw or heard John express things which were deeply personal to him. His behavior told the story, and I couldn't have been more wrong about him finding friends there. Many saw the great personality and the unbending loyalty to friends and beliefs. He was as dependable as his health would allow. Everyone knew they could count on John. It wasn't long after he became a member of the branch that I bought a home and moved into a resident ward, but his closest and dearest friends were those dearest to me in the branch, and I felt he had found his niche. From that point on he grew spiritually and intellectually in the Gospel in leaps and bounds. He hungered and found a feast for himself.

We had more common ground on which to talk, of course, but we never lost that poker-faced John, who, until he had "gotcha", didn't move and eyelid. No one could hold the attention of children longer by his games and tricks; no one appreciated the words of young people more; and no one knew better how to be a friend, without many expectations for return, but with a great heart for giving the gifts he'd been given, a mind that held everything and which could figure out whatever there was to figure out. I shall never forget that laugh when the joke was told or when he'd gotten me again, which rumbled from deep in his throat, I think with love in his heart.