Please share your favorite anecdotes about Jon here.
Stories (4)
Jeffrey Abramson
Nov 03
Three minutes after Jon and I met in 1965 at Amherst College, he was already talking about some group called Students for a Democratic Society and giving his radical critique of America, as apt today as ever. Five meetings later, he was the scientist debunking religion. The next day, he was the consummate tennis player. The next week, he was the serious student and future doctor pulling the first of many an all -nighter with the books. Three months later, he swore he would never join a fraternity. We got drunk. We joined. We sobered up. We quit. Ten years after graduation, I asked Jon to put on a Jewish skullcap known as a yarmulke during my wedding ceremony. He happily complied, letting me know that even for an atheist, perhaps especially for an atheist, belief in friendship comes first.
In 2017, Jon had just returned from hiking on Mt. Everest when he wrote, “I’m having too much fun to ever die.” This was vintage Jon – silly enough to treat life as a cosmic joke and yet serious enough to understand that, as he once put it to me, “yes well if you don't believe in reincarnation, then you better get it done while you still can.” And get it done, Jon did – in cutting-edge medical research, in life-saving treatment of patients, in his great and generous gift for friendship, in legendary hikes and treks, all the while being the embodiment of joie de vivre—zest for life.
On September 12, Jon sent me a final email, to be forwarded to his college friends. One part read: You have all made my life better by knowing you and I want to thank all of you for being there for me. I loved you all.
It was he who made our lives better. There will be other celebrations that focus, rightly so, on Jon’s public importance as a pioneering cardiologist. But we get to share stories about Jon out of the limelight, where perhaps he shone brightest.
Jon the skeptic once challenged a college professor to explain what philosophy was all about. It is about what happens when you throw the ball up and it doesn’t come down, replied the professor. I like to think of Jon the tennis player bouncing that ball around somewhere.
Love
Robin Mallery
Nov 03
I had the pleasure of meeting Jon in 1996, after having heard stories about him from my husband John, who was a Cardiology fellow under Jon, at UCI . Having been invited on what typically ended up being epic backpacking trips to the Sierras, his sense of humor and sharp wit belied his capacity for deep reflections on life as well as his numerous significant contributions to the world of medicine. Jon remained humble and always so excited for advancements in technology and pharmacology related to cardiac care, much of which was a result of his own diligent pursuit of excellence. We hosted Med-Ed programs at our small NorCal hospital for physicians and nurses, during which Jon would dazzle us with his obvious intelligence and more so his unwavering enthusiasm for advancement -- knowing that after his presentation, we would be so silly (often inappropriate), sharing wine and belly laughter into the late night. One memory that stands out occurred when Jon met us in Jackson, WY a few years ago for a hiking trip in the Tetons. A friend of ours who lived in Jackson, and who was an expert birder, took us out for a day trip to see the Calliope Hummingbirds that migrate there for the short summer. After a rewarding few hours of birding, we took our guide out for dinner. I do not recall how we got onto the topic, but the guide told a story of a woman who had plunged into icy waters for some many minutes but was able to somehow have been revived. He explained that she was "saved by the lord" with apparently her life purpose yet unfulfilled; Jon was having none of that! As many practitioners know of life-saving measures requiring human intervention and technology, Jon did not hesitate to say, "Well, if the lord saved her, then why did he allow her to drown in the first place?" Our guide was silenced, while John and I were both stunned and impressed by Jon's willingness to speak his mind, as well as his commitment to his belief and reverence for science. While our in-person visits became less frequent after we moved from California, our Facetime calls became legendary. We'd connect every few months for a juicy catch-up chat, talking about our families, our outdoor adventures, our work, our worries, and our hopes. Nancy often sat in with us for these calls, which would often devolve into silly and sometimes raunchy dialogue! Jon did not hesitate to express his love for us and his appreciation for our continued friendship. Jon was a jewel of a human -- kind, compassionate, oh-so-fun, yet it was his obvious intelligence and enthusiasm for life, his and others, that was a defining characteristic of the man that we all loved. May his memory be for a blessing. xo
Love
Denny Aftergut
Nov 03
In 1965, meeting the striking, self-assured college classmate from Long Island . . . whose looks were beyond comparison’s reach
Four years of meals together and late-night bullshit sessions on Philosophy (as in the class we were taking) and philosophy (as in the life we were hoping for)
In 1968, running around chasing (and being chased by) Dundada in the the dorm living room that Jon, Freddie, Jeffrey and I shared
Visiting the Long Island homestead and seeing the Toney family portrait – the one that later came to reside at 360 N. Skyewiay) – and thinking, “Wow, what a family!”
The canoe trip down the Alagash with Nancy and Dun
Years later, grilling the salmon we caught on the Kenai River
Banging tennis balls so hard across the net at indoor courts in Media, Pennsylvania, that folk on other courts stopped to watch
Backpacks and campfires in Kings Canyon and the High Sierra (especially the campfire where my grief poured out and wouldn’t stop)
Visits to Long Beach
Sleeping in the extra bedroom on N. Skyewiay
Listening to stories about Antonio Colombo and their work together
Dinner in San Francisco in August 2023 where he was in discomfort before knowing that the tumor had reappeared.
Flying down to be with him at his first infusion in November 2023, and meeting Dr. Drakoke
That amazing April 6, 2024 UCLA celebration of Jon . . . where I first appreciated the true scope of his contributions
Reading his brutally honest (as always) “Reflections on Dying” speech given to colleagues at the 2024 Cardiovascualar Intervention meeting in La Jolla.
All the phone calls, including the many where we agreed (so facilely) that we would end our lives before we experienced too much pain . . . and the later, more real ones, when he, acing a fatal diagnosis,said that he would only know if he could do it when the time came.
The wonderful July 17, 2025 celebration of Jon at N. Skyewiay, organized by David and Heather
The astounding Zoom call with college friends on September 11, 2025, where when asked his level of pain, he answered, “10.” And then went on to say how much he wanted to live to keep doing his research.
Scott’s and Nancy’s email on September 13.
May his memory be for a blessing.
Love
Scott Tobis
Oct 25
There are so many stories it's hard to pick just one (or 10). However my dad taught me how to ski at a very young age for which I will be forever grateful. He spent countless hours driving me back and forth to Mammoth Mountain and was so patient with teaching me something that was so hard at first. I will never forget him skiing up behind me one of my first times down the mountain and screaming "Hot Dog!!!" (as though I were some kind of olympic skier) while he picked me up and skied with me down the bunny hill. And always listening to The Eagles on the drives up and back. I'd often get calls from him during the winter when I was away at med school or residency and he'd immediately say, "guess where I am???" Of course I knew that he was on chair 22 at Mammoth about to go down Viva, our favorite run.
Three minutes after Jon and I met in 1965 at Amherst College, he was already talking about some group called Students for a Democratic Society and giving his radical critique of America, as apt today as ever. Five meetings later, he was the scientist debunking religion. The next day, he was the consummate tennis player. The next week, he was the serious student and future doctor pulling the first of many an all -nighter with the books. Three months later, he swore he would never join a fraternity. We got drunk. We joined. We sobered up. We quit. Ten years after graduation, I asked Jon to put on a Jewish skullcap known as a yarmulke during my wedding ceremony. He happily complied, letting me know that even for an atheist, perhaps especially for an atheist, belief in friendship comes first.
In 2017, Jon had just returned from hiking on Mt. Everest when he wrote, “I’m having too much fun to ever die.” This was vintage Jon – silly enough to treat life as a cosmic joke and yet serious enough to understand that, as he once put it to me, “yes well if you don't believe in reincarnation, then you better get it done while you still can.” And get it done, Jon did – in cutting-edge medical research, in life-saving treatment of patients, in his great and generous gift for friendship, in legendary hikes and treks, all the while being the embodiment of joie de vivre—zest for life.
On September 12, Jon sent me a final email, to be forwarded to his college friends. One part read: You have all made my life better by knowing you and I want to thank all of you for being there for me. I loved you all.
It was he who made our lives better. There will be other celebrations that focus, rightly so, on Jon’s public importance as a pioneering cardiologist. But we get to share stories about Jon out of the limelight, where perhaps he shone brightest.
Jon the skeptic once challenged a college professor to explain what philosophy was all about. It is about what happens when you throw the ball up and it doesn’t come down, replied the professor. I like to think of Jon the tennis player bouncing that ball around somewhere.
I had the pleasure of meeting Jon in 1996, after having heard stories about him from my husband John, who was a Cardiology fellow under Jon, at UCI . Having been invited on what typically ended up being epic backpacking trips to the Sierras, his sense of humor and sharp wit belied his capacity for deep reflections on life as well as his numerous significant contributions to the world of medicine. Jon remained humble and always so excited for advancements in technology and pharmacology related to cardiac care, much of which was a result of his own diligent pursuit of excellence. We hosted Med-Ed programs at our small NorCal hospital for physicians and nurses, during which Jon would dazzle us with his obvious intelligence and more so his unwavering enthusiasm for advancement -- knowing that after his presentation, we would be so silly (often inappropriate), sharing wine and belly laughter into the late night. One memory that stands out occurred when Jon met us in Jackson, WY a few years ago for a hiking trip in the Tetons. A friend of ours who lived in Jackson, and who was an expert birder, took us out for a day trip to see the Calliope Hummingbirds that migrate there for the short summer. After a rewarding few hours of birding, we took our guide out for dinner. I do not recall how we got onto the topic, but the guide told a story of a woman who had plunged into icy waters for some many minutes but was able to somehow have been revived. He explained that she was "saved by the lord" with apparently her life purpose yet unfulfilled; Jon was having none of that! As many practitioners know of life-saving measures requiring human intervention and technology, Jon did not hesitate to say, "Well, if the lord saved her, then why did he allow her to drown in the first place?" Our guide was silenced, while John and I were both stunned and impressed by Jon's willingness to speak his mind, as well as his commitment to his belief and reverence for science. While our in-person visits became less frequent after we moved from California, our Facetime calls became legendary. We'd connect every few months for a juicy catch-up chat, talking about our families, our outdoor adventures, our work, our worries, and our hopes. Nancy often sat in with us for these calls, which would often devolve into silly and sometimes raunchy dialogue! Jon did not hesitate to express his love for us and his appreciation for our continued friendship. Jon was a jewel of a human -- kind, compassionate, oh-so-fun, yet it was his obvious intelligence and enthusiasm for life, his and others, that was a defining characteristic of the man that we all loved. May his memory be for a blessing. xo
In 1965, meeting the striking, self-assured college classmate from Long Island . . . whose looks were beyond comparison’s reach
Four years of meals together and late-night bullshit sessions on Philosophy (as in the class we were taking) and philosophy (as in the life we were hoping for)
In 1968, running around chasing (and being chased by) Dundada in the the dorm living room that Jon, Freddie, Jeffrey and I shared
Visiting the Long Island homestead and seeing the Toney family portrait – the one that later came to reside at 360 N. Skyewiay) – and thinking, “Wow, what a family!”
The canoe trip down the Alagash with Nancy and Dun
Years later, grilling the salmon we caught on the Kenai River
Banging tennis balls so hard across the net at indoor courts in Media, Pennsylvania, that folk on other courts stopped to watch
Backpacks and campfires in Kings Canyon and the High Sierra (especially the campfire where my grief poured out and wouldn’t stop)
Visits to Long Beach
Sleeping in the extra bedroom on N. Skyewiay
Listening to stories about Antonio Colombo and their work together
Dinner in San Francisco in August 2023 where he was in discomfort before knowing that the tumor had reappeared.
Flying down to be with him at his first infusion in November 2023, and meeting Dr. Drakoke
That amazing April 6, 2024 UCLA celebration of Jon . . . where I first appreciated the true scope of his contributions
Reading his brutally honest (as always) “Reflections on Dying” speech given to colleagues at the 2024 Cardiovascualar Intervention meeting in La Jolla.
All the phone calls, including the many where we agreed (so facilely) that we would end our lives before we experienced too much pain . . . and the later, more real ones, when he, acing a fatal diagnosis,said that he would only know if he could do it when the time came.
The wonderful July 17, 2025 celebration of Jon at N. Skyewiay, organized by David and Heather
The astounding Zoom call with college friends on September 11, 2025, where when asked his level of pain, he answered, “10.” And then went on to say how much he wanted to live to keep doing his research.
Scott’s and Nancy’s email on September 13.
May his memory be for a blessing.
There are so many stories it's hard to pick just one (or 10). However my dad taught me how to ski at a very young age for which I will be forever grateful. He spent countless hours driving me back and forth to Mammoth Mountain and was so patient with teaching me something that was so hard at first. I will never forget him skiing up behind me one of my first times down the mountain and screaming "Hot Dog!!!" (as though I were some kind of olympic skier) while he picked me up and skied with me down the bunny hill. And always listening to The Eagles on the drives up and back. I'd often get calls from him during the winter when I was away at med school or residency and he'd immediately say, "guess where I am???" Of course I knew that he was on chair 22 at Mammoth about to go down Viva, our favorite run.