It seems that in a lifetime a person will meet a very few—a handful—of individuals that really strike you, that have a way about them that leaves a permanent impression on you. These are those unique people that open your mind to other ways of thinking. Those rare people that you know you will never forget. My brother Jim was one of those.
Jim is about 12 years older than me, so in my earliest memories he was already busily engaged in a young man’s life, so I didn’t see him around the house too much. Often I didn’t know or understand where he was, I just knew he was out there—way out there, in every sense. Maybe he was way out on some remote river or mountain, or just way out in his thinking. I think this is what drew people to Jim—you could always expect something different from him, and he always came through in that.
Jim was such a fun-loving, humble guy that it was easy to overlook how important he was to any group he was a part of.
He was important because in his ever-present humor—often irreverent, often odd, always funny, he helped us in not taking ourselves too seriously. To put aside the formalities and enjoy yourself. Just be yourself and have a laugh.
He was important because in his many adventures and experiences he inspired us to reach out beyond ourselves, to challenge ourselves.
And Jim had very wise perspectives on life: Although his work involved very complex ideas—ideas most of us don’t understand—he sought the simple joys in life. He just wanted to laugh, and hear other people laugh. And to be out in nature, being a part of it.
Jimmy talked about writing a book. On the surface it was going to be about his many outdoor and traveling adventures, but he would use those settings to describe the personal philosophies he developed in his life. This would have been a guaranteed page-turner. This is the guy who would scribble a few sentiments on a piece of cardboard torn from a cornmeal box and call it a postcard. In some remote town he’d find a stamp and drop it in the mail. In Jim’s typical e-mail he didn’t bother with formalities like punctuation and capitalization, but I’m thinking he might have been on to something there. Jim was all about taking the formal edge off things. But when the circumstances called for it he could write beautifully.
Yes, formality was not for Jim. To him clothes were about functionality, not fashion. What mattered in an article of clothing was its insulating and water shedding properties, not its appearance. A leisure suit, the height of fashion in 1975, worked just as well in 2010.
In these last few days I’ve heard many discussions about Jim. I keep hearing things like: …the nicest guy… …most humble guy… …loved teasing kids, and kids loved him… But there are some other things to contemplate here, too: His last move was to steer the car off the road and get Karen out of danger’s way. The irony that this strong-hearted man—strong hearted in every sense—was struck there in such an unlikely, freakish way. I think God needed him for some important work now.
I think we are all struck by the unusual way Jim’s time here on earth ended. But you know, it really couldn’t have been any other way: Unusual; unpredictable; makes you think—that was Jimmy.
It is natural that we are struggling with Jim’s absence among us, but he would just want us to laugh and enjoy ourselves. The best way to honor Jim is to laugh, like he would.
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