As told by Geoff Alexander: It was the mid-70s. John and Andy still lived at Ithilien, and Judy and I lived in the little red house at Rancho Rentscho. John and Glenna and Judy and I were off on an adventure in our VW van. I don’t remember our final destination, but we were driving up 99W north of McMinnville.
I was driving, and all of a sudden John said that he had been stung! That didn’t seem all that unusual as we were all outdoors a lot. But John started complaining about his breathing, and we all realized that he was reacting to the sting and we needed to get help. I spotted a Police Department building, maybe in Dundee? Or Newberg? Raced inside seeking help and they sent us to the hospital. I put that VW van into full throttle and I bet we hit 50 miles an hour. Got to the hospital, went into the ER trying to tell the admissions nurse that John needed help FAST, please! She began her intake routine, asked John his name and such, and John was doing his very best to be the dutiful patient. But she took too long, and after some seemingly meaningless question like where was your mother’s place of birth, John’s body just lost it. He leaned over her intake counter and threw up. A LOT.
As you may know, John had VERY LARGE HANDS. He tried to catch his entire regurgitation in those very large hands, but it was a losing cause. The answer to whatever question the nurse may have been asking was multi-colored barf. That got the nurse’s attention, and John then got immediate attention. From then on, John carried a bee-sting kit.