Tribute to Eric Johnson
Tribute to Eric Johnson
(Long Version)
My brother of Phoenix–Gilbert,
By Ted Hayes
The recently late, great Eric and I first met in the spring of 2010, during the big controversy around Arizona Senate Bill 1070, the “Support Our Law Enforcement and Safe Neighborhoods Act,” authored by the late Senator Russell Pearce.
Our friendship began in a funny way.
I had been calling Senator Pearce’s office again and again from Los Angeles. My team and I—African American U.S. citizens, federalized under the 1866 Civil Rights Act and the 14th Amendment—wanted to express our support for his courage on that bill and to let him know we were willing to come to Arizona and stand with him.
Well, after I had harassed the Senator’s receptionist long enough, she finally gave in and passed the message along to Eric, who at the time was Senator Pearce’s special assistant.
Eric figured that anybody that persistent at least deserved to be heard.
Big mistake.
No… actually, it turned out to be the beginning of a sixteen-year brotherhood of mutual love and friendship.
Over those years I came to know Eric’s beautiful family.
In a way, I became something like a big brother or uncle to his two wonderful children, Stephan and Ana. And of course there was their amazing mother, Q—Eric’s loving wife, a true servant queen with a powerful spirit.
Whenever I came to Phoenix–Gilbert, whether for business or just to spend time, that small but mighty family always welcomed me with warmth and hospitality.
One thing that always amazed me about Eric was this:
In all the years I knew him, I never once heard him complain about his health. Not once.
Not about pain.
Not about circumstances.
Not about life being unfair.
No sir.
Eric stayed steady—faithful, joyful—trusting in The LORD Jesus and ABBA, our Heavenly Father, always giving praise and gratitude.
Eric and I spent many long hours on the phone.
And let me tell you—that man could tell stories.
Especially his legendary adventures of “Erfel” and Lil Poke Ben, and the way he laughed at himself. His sense of humor was something special.
How many of you know about Erfel?
At one point we even talked about doing a comedy routine together at a comedy club. We were going to call it:
“The Stand-Up / Sit-Down Show: The Cripple and the Black Guy.”
Man, we laughed hard at that idea.
Sometimes Eric would have me laughing so much on the phone that I had to literally tell him:
“Eric—STOP! My sides hurt!”
My back hurt.
My face hurt.
He was just that funny.
But we also had many serious conversations.
We talked about faith and spiritual matters.
We talked about politics and elections.
We talked about illegal immigration and the confusion around Birthright Citizenship and the 14th Amendment.
We talked about homelessness.
We talked about healing white–Black relations in America.
And Eric used his amazing tech talent to help build our small but powerful website called:
“The 740,000.”
That number represents the young men—mostly white boys from the North and South, along with about 38,000 American Africans—who died in the Civil War, including the sacrifice of President Lincoln himself, in the struggle to end chattel slavery in America.
Eric built that platform with his digital gifts.
For a time we even co-hosted a short-lived radio podcast together.
It would be remiss of me not to mention Eric’s deep and abiding passion for the only Judaic state on earth—Eretz Israel—the Land of Israel—and for the Jewish people throughout the world, as admonished by God in the Torah–Tanakh to bless, not curse, the children of Israel—even when they may or may not deserve it.
Eric even designed an incredible and beautiful resort concept that he hoped one day might be built in Israel.
God willing.
One thing that truly moved me was how God used Eric’s life to teach others.
Seeing his faith forced people like me to ask ourselves:
“What am I complaining about?”
Right?
Here was a man facing physical challenges most people cannot imagine—yet he lived with joy, gratitude, and faith.
Then came something even more remarkable.
Eric began writing articles and eventually producing videos using only his eyes, through assistive technology.
When I first saw that, I was completely blown away.
Eric had a gift that everyone noticed.
Anyone who met him felt it immediately.
His positivity.
His faith in the Lord.
His joy in life.
If you spoke to him on the phone without seeing him, you would never even guess his physical condition—unless you started asking questions.
In fact, after many phone calls, I didn’t even fully understand his situation until the first time we met in person.
He came to pick us up at the airport in his van and drove us to dinner.
When I saw him, I just thought:
“Wow.”
And from that moment on, I knew this was going to be a wacky and wonderful adventure with Eric Johnson.
I could tell a thousand stories—but I’ll stop here for now.
But before closing, we must also salute Q.
The great servant queen.
She carried so much responsibility—wife, mother, caregiver—yet I never heard her complain.
She spoke plainly about challenges, yes, but always with strength and faith in Jesus Christ our Lord.
She raised three children, stood beside Eric with unwavering love, and served quietly like a faithful handmaid of the Lord.
Eric may have been physically small, but in spirit he was a giant of faith—and Q stood faithfully beside him.
No doubt many of us have our own stories about this incredible family.
A small family, maybe.
But huge in spirit.
A gift from God.
So today we give thanks to The Most High for the life of Eric Johnson.
A brother.
A friend.
A man of humor.
A man of faith.
A model of loyalty to God.
Here’s to the gift of Eric.
May his life continue to remind us all how to live—with faith, gratitude, and joy.
Shalom.