Goodbye Jim

Jim and me, 1974

I tell you what, it has been a rough few weeks for my family. First, my Uncle Bobby passed away. I wrote about that HERE. Then, just over a week ago, my dad's cousin Jim passed. Jim was far too young, only sixty-six, but had been battling some health issues for a few years. 

I thought of Jim a lot this week while I taught. Jim was quiet, but had a lot to say if you talked to him on the side of a party. He would never be comfortable taking the center stage. Jim loved farming, animals, and helping out. Since he's passed so many friends have shared that they remember him as a good guy, willing to lend a hand. I remember telling a colleague at school years ago that I was related to Jim and she said she knew him, of course. That he always was willing to help out at the Knights of Columbus BBQ each year. 

I, like many, have my own memories of Jim. How he helped his mom in her later years without complaint. That he was an insane driver that scared me to death, but he still picked me up when I needed a ride home to the country in a crazy blizzard during my first years of teaching. (I counted my blessings that we didn't end up in a ditch.) And I remember Jim's love of dogs. He had Blackie and Whitey (no idea how he spelled them) as I grew up. When Chris and I moved to my grandma's farm before buying our own house, we got our first dog, Bally. She was an adorable golden retriever pup. I called Jim and his mom, my great aunt GG, once I brought her home. I'm not sure if they took off at a sprint, but they were walking through my backdoor within minutes, just so they could cuddle that dog. And I will always remember the stories of Jim and his dad, who we call Colonel, on the fishing trip. For a variety of reasons, they cannot be repeated here.

Jim and the crew on a fishing trip to Canada

As I sifted through these memories this week, I thought of the lessons Jim had taught me. That not everyone demands the spotlight, but to get to know those quieter people, you need to reach out, to meet them where they are. You are all the richer for having done so, they have a lot to teach us too. So, thanks to Jim, I made sure I did an extra sweep of my classes this week, chatted with all my students, not just the ones begging to speak. There are so many kids like Jim hiding in plain sight. I'm grateful to the reminder to see them too. 

Godspeed, Jim. The world was richer for you being here and we will sure miss you.

Jim with my Grandma