We arrived in Accra, Ghana, late at night. We stepped out of the plane into the hot, humid, and pungent air. Echoing across the tarmac we heard the eerily breathtaking chant of "Peace Corps, Peace Corps, Peace Corps." Our greeting from the second year volunteers. That next afternoon, at the bar of the Black Star Hotel, John Knauer, wearing his pressed white chinos--always well-dressed and put together--ordered a beer. We had all spent the morning being pricked like pincushions with various vaccinations. It was hot. Very hot. John took a sip of his beer and promptly passed out on the bar counter. Welcome to Peace Corps Ghana.
That is the story I always tell of John. And I will always remember how he and Jerry Perez would team up and tease me to see if they could get me flustered (and they always could). And now he's really gone. What a wonderful, quirky and funny guy he was--and smart. I can't imagine how a family fills the gap that a person like that leaves. But I take some comfort in knowing that so much of him must live on through his three children and wife.
Here's to John...
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