In the late '90s I met Jane Houston, who assisted John in his telescope making classes at the California Academy of Sciences. Her garage was full of mirror blanks, grit sorted into particle sizes, and pine-tar pitch for making pitch laps. I married her in 2000. (Yesterday John passed away on our 14th wedding anniversay.)
Over the next few years, we would often get a call from John at his home in San Francisco, and he would say "It's clear out! Should I finish my dinner?" That was our cue to load the van, pick up John, and take him to either 9th & Geary, or 24th & Noe, and spend the evening doing sidewalk astronomy. We would often have three or four hundred "accidental astronomers" participate in what we call "urban guerrilla astronomy."
During the summers, we took at least three excursions with John to the Grand Canyon Star Party. There's not much in life to compare with spending eight or ten hours on the road with John. He would make the most interesting observations of the landscape around him, or sometimes just launch into a new puzzle for us. You could always count on something interesting from John when he would say, "Okay now I have to tell you a story ..."
His views of cosmology were certainly unorthodox, but they were based on a solid foundation and understanding of the physics, chemistry, and math involved. I didn't always agree with his views, but he never failed to give me a fresh perspective on physics and cosmology. He was a fan of Fred Hoyle and Halton Arp, a champion of the steady-state universe. You would often see him in a sweat-shirt that says "The Big Bang is a Thing of the Past," or a button saying "Nothing Doesn't Exist."
One of my favorite John quotes: "Anything that happens is natural. A battleship is just as natural as a pine tree."
And one last John story: We were on our way to the Bryce Canyon Star Party, and passed one of Utah's famous rock shops. He glanced out the window and said, "Oh look! Pieces of planet!" Yes, we spent an hour or so shopping there.