A Solid Guy, A Solid Life
I lost a childhood friend recently to diabetes related issues and eventual organ failure. I’ve known Jim since we were 6 years old and except for a gap of about 15 years, we’ve always stayed in touch. His wife Michelle asked me to write a childhood memory to be included in his eulogy to be read by his favourite 2 nieces.
One of my earliest memories with Jim involved us playing catch in my front yard, something we did often. On this particular day I was also babysitting my 2 year old brother, Bruce. He would stand inside at the front screen door and watch us, usually without incident, but not this time.
On this occasion Bruce managed to open the door and tumble down the 5 front steps. Once he landed he was screaming bloody murder and one of his tiny legs was twisted at a weird angle. I immediately tried standing him up several times to no avail.
“Stop doing that,” yelled Jim. “His leg’s broken!!” to which I responded, “It can’t be! My parents will kill me!”
At that precise moment Mom and Dad pulled up.
As it happens, one of the cement sidewalk slabs at the base of the steps had never been poured properly and the side nearest the steps stuck up roughly two inches. My Mom was always on my Dad’s back about fixing it but to date, he hadn’t.
My Mom ran up screaming, “WHAT HAPPENED! HIS LEG’S BROKEN!”
Enter my best friend and personal hero, one James Edward Short.
“Mrs Hamilton, we were playing here in the yard with Bruce and when he ran back to the house, he tripped over that sidewalk block.” I believe my Dad’s exact words were, “Oh shit.” Mom turned on him like a ravenous lioness and I was suddenly off the hook.
Now I don’t want to have you believe that Jim was a liar. He was more of a pragmatist but that’s not the point of this story. Jim showed he was a true friend that day and for the rest of his life. It was that quality that put him on a slightly elevated personal pedestal, to me anyway.
Jim Short was a solid guy and I miss him dearly.
On this occasion Bruce managed to open the door and tumble down the 5 front steps. Once he landed he was screaming bloody murder and one of his tiny legs was twisted at a weird angle. I immediately tried standing him up several times to no avail.
“Stop doing that,” yelled Jim. “His leg’s broken!!” to which I responded, “It can’t be! My parents will kill me!”
At that precise moment Mom and Dad pulled up.
As it happens, one of the cement sidewalk slabs at the base of the steps had never been poured properly and the side nearest the steps stuck up roughly two inches. My Mom was always on my Dad’s back about fixing it but to date, he hadn’t.
My Mom ran up screaming, “WHAT HAPPENED! HIS LEG’S BROKEN!”
Enter my best friend and personal hero, one James Edward Short.
“Mrs Hamilton, we were playing here in the yard with Bruce and when he ran back to the house, he tripped over that sidewalk block.” I believe my Dad’s exact words were, “Oh shit.” Mom turned on him like a ravenous lioness and I was suddenly off the hook.
Now I don’t want to have you believe that Jim was a liar. He was more of a pragmatist but that’s not the point of this story. Jim showed he was a true friend that day and for the rest of his life. It was that quality that put him on a slightly elevated personal pedestal, to me anyway.
Jim Short was a solid guy and I miss him dearly.
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