John Holmes - Porn King

John was a fascinating, yet simple man. He had a heart of gold, but there were many times when John was lost somewhere between reality, fantasy, and the sexual revolution. He often spun wild stories of grandeur and elaborated on the truth. Like most of his peers, he found it difficult to live up to someone else’s fantasy. I will always remember the man that in spite of his own pain went out of his way to help a little old lady that was lost. The man that gave $20 to a homeless man and told him to go get himself a good Thanksgiving dinner; the man that comforted a little girl after her brother had been badly hurt in a car accident; the man that went to the pound to get a dog, picked one out one with every disease imaginable; bailed her and her six puppies out of the pound, nursed the dog back to life and found homes for every single one of her puppies. The man who became devastated after a pigeon he had tried to rescue had died overnight, the man that would run back and forth to the sink putting hot-wet towels on my tummy when I suffered from the cramps.

John may have made mistakes in his lifetime, but as anyone who really knew John can never deny—John’s best asset wasn’t his penis—it was his heart.

In the Garden of Eden,the Bible tells us, there grew a tree with magical powers. Anyone who tasted its fruit was said to receive everlasting life.

In time the tree became a symbol of life itself; its roots representing the roots of mankind, its branches the many different directions that life can take. A tree can be shaken or struck by lightning. A limb can rot. Still, it stands strong.

Life abounds within the tree. Monkeys scamper about. Monkeys and man, we live on the lower limbs and outer reaches and soaring heights. No matter how sophisticated and intellectual we become, no matter what goals we achieve, we’re all monkeys in the same tree. Reaching, falling, climbing, searching, hiding.

There’s no escape from the monkey tree. We’re there always, placed somewhere by our own deeds and the opinions of others.

John F. Kennedy… Hypocrites… Charles Manson… John Wayne… Jerry Falwell. Where do they live in the monkey tree?

And John C. Holmes?

I’ll let you be the judge of that.

Though it seems ten lifetimes, it has only been ten months. And each day I spend less hours thinking of the things we’ve lost. It is only in the night when my thoughts are not my own When I can’t control my feelings—when my heart begins to roam. It’s these hours that I lay sleeping that my love returns to you. Can’t I let go these feelings—Oh how I love thee, Lady Blue.

When one grows old,his channels of interest are few: money, sex, security. But to be young and curious about everything is the energy and charm of youth. Whose searchings for knowledge satiate the thirsts of those who have found out such is the social structure of a race of beings still as surely locked into their primal past as those poor creatures whose own carrion fuels those who would devour its flesh. Is it wrong that like the mole who digs or birds that fly, we develop our particular talent for survival? But unlike the mole who learns to dig, then learns no more, or bird that is what is our gift leads us to learn. To learn, to seek and find is to fail—is to seek no more—is to teach those who seek. To fail there are no absolutes. To seek to find -- to seek to improve. Forever is never to lose the charm of youth.