The Story of Little John Sanduliak
As told to us by Mike T

Many times I've sat here and considered what to say. Funnily enough I spent almost all of Little John's last days chronicling my experiences with him, online and in a very public way. I've never been at a loss for words, eventually finding them on the other side of silence.

Without him around I find it hard, however, to think of what to say that can even begin to move you, the reader, toward understanding how fundamentally good this man was.

But this isn't about what I thought or felt or even feel. I want to do the best I can to simply let Little John be remembered.

Born in Winnipeg, Little John was the eldest of a complicated family tree. He was a small man, around five foot one. And while one day he would tell me that he "[had] a mediocre life, an ordinary life and [he] like[s] it that way", he was anything but.

Often quiet about his own history Little John was endlessly open about the importance of his family in his life. His love, his center of being, seemed to come from loyalty and love for his family, as well as his family of choice.

Over the years Little John became a DJ, moved to Vancouver and explored the world around him with an open mind and heart. A man of few prejudices he embraced anyone and anything. He had a period of his life where he was involved in the gay leather community, always proud of his place among and with his found family of people.

When I met Little John, in August of 2003, he was still DJing here in Vancouver. His involvement in the community at large had slowed and he was more comfortable being at home or with his friends.

And while he was quiet and often more forgiving than I'll ever be, he also had a laugh and smile that could fill a room. It seemed easy for him to find joy in his life and the people in it.

All this is a biography, the facts that somehow miss or belittle the pure presence he had. He was warm, glowing and caring. Near the end, before he was admitted to St Paul's in June of 2005, he had begun to feel worn by his battle with AIDS. He had periods of depression and despondency, and yet he continued to fight and find reasons to laugh.

A fitting testament to his nature are the words of nurses caring for Little John for the last three months of his life. Even at his most extreme moments he was kind and polite. He was gentle. He never raised his voice and politely peppered his conversations with pleases and thank yous. "He was just.. gentle."

For me.. he will be remembered in his '72 Cuda, music blaring, conversation stilled to silence, and the gentle comfort of holding his hand as we drove in sunlight. He will be a man I loved dearly, a man who wasted to nothing both physically and mentally, yet proved the indelible mark of true personality by never once losing his grace in this world. Regardless of his struggle, and our pain, Little John Sanduliak was, and is, a great man.

Little John Sanduliak on the Memorial