JIM

There’s a man I met over 37 years ago, and I must say I am reminded of him daily. His presence seems to linger in not only my memory of him, but in his children and grandchildren. Jim was man of peace, a man of charity, a man of unquenching curiosity and intelligence, a man who loved without qualification or pretense.

The first time I met him he was sitting in his chair in a brown suit, watching the TV as I knocked on the door. I heard the shrill barking of a little dog and a very beautiful lady answered the door, to invite me in. The little dog “Jacque” nipped at my heels and kept up his barking, but Jim just sat there and acknowledged my presence after an introduction. He didn’t badger me, didn’t ask too many questions, just trusted me, and I immediately trusted and liked him. He was for real. No show of manly machismo or usual bull you get when you meet some men.

Jim was a hard worker, worked a shoe store as a manager by day, and a cashier by night at a local diner. On Sundays’ he was an usher, counting the money for the parish, and I can assure you he accounted for every penny of it.

But what made him so special? Loving his Helen meant more to him than life itself. He taught his children that; violence had no place in life, and truth and character were what really mattered. TLW (The Little Woman) is testament to that.

He was a curmudgeon and a lover of the written word, a thorn in the side of the New York Times, as every Sunday he would read it, circling all the grammatical and spelling errors and would send it off to the newspaper with a little note that I am sure poked them in their haughty sides. As curmudgeons go he was the leader. I recall one exceptionally beautiful Saturday morning, as I went to pick up TLW for a day trip somewhere. The sky was a cerulean blue, the sun as yellow and inviting as possible, and the temperature was a perfect 72 degrees, with no wind. I mentioned those facts to him, and when I left the house after his view of the weather I was depressed, praying for rain!

When he wasn’t reading a newspaper with pencil or involved with a book, he was watching a news program or the Watergate hearings that gave him endless hours of fascination and pleasure, as he would relate the day’s proceedings or arguments.

He suffered from emphysema and it seems it was always taking him down for a spell, but he always bounced back. Then one day he didn’t. His weary body could no longer fight, and he sadly said goodbye to his children, not bemoaning his luck, not sobbing or wringing his hands, but like a man who knew his destiny, and accepted it. He was a perfect role model for his sons, he didn’t teach them baseball or sports, didn’t go to many games, or scout meetings, but was there in a spiritual way, teaching them that family did come first, even if one must sacrifice the time with them so they could be provided for, given a quality education, a respect for God, and that love and the heart is present no matter where the soul is.

Thanks, Jim and Happy father’s Day. Say “Hello” to my Dad, and wish him a “Happy Father’s day”. Your sacrifices are not forgotten, both of you have given nine children, grandchildren and great grandchildren a way of life.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads of the world.