JACKSONVILLE
By Duncan
JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA
I have a friend by the name of Jim Gentry. He lived about 60 miles south of Indianapolis in a subdivision called Painted Hills, Martinsville, Indiana.
In the early 70’s, Jim and his girlfriend, Karen, were out together on Interstate 465. A ribbon of asphalt that has three lanes of traffic and makes a circle or loops around Indianapolis. A truck in front of them lost its load. The load happened to be an automobile engine. As the story goes, it bounced on the highway and landed inside the driver's windshield of Jim’s passenger car. The vehicle he was driving. Needless to say, Jim was hospitalized and in critical condition. Karen was hurt, but not seriously.
There but for the Grace of God go I. This statement has also been attributed to a mid-16th-century reformer by the name of John Bradford.
My last post, I discussed hitting a moose on a dark Montana highway. I was very lucky. I could have been seriously hurt, too. But my friend, Jim, has been bound to a wheelchair and a hospital bed for the rest of his life.
Each time I think about a trip to Florida, I can’t help but think about Jim. I need to stop by his place and say hello. I don’t normally talk or write about Jim. I guess to protest his privacy.
But I decided I wanted you to know him. He’s a good man who deals with what life throws at him the best way he knows. We laughed, told stories, and enjoyed each other's company when I entered his home. For two hours, Jim gets a little bit of “normal.” He wants to live a normal life.
So, this time, I will give you a look at a very good friend. I might even call him “My Personal and Very Close Friend.”
Before I arrive at his home, it’s my custom to stop, grab a bite, and reflect on how I will behave there. Yes, as some of you know, I’m a little too flamboyant sometimes. A little too loud, a little too “over the top.”
But, as I sit in the McDonald’s a few miles from his home, I try to put myself in his shoes. How would he want me to behave with him? It’s a fight I have with myself every time I visit. Respect his life and yet allow him to experience joy and laughter. The truth is, I’ve been seeing him for as long as I can remember. I keep thinking, calm down, don’t be so big. Then I walked into the home, and Jim's wife, Jan, yelled at the top of her voice, “Jim, Jim, Duncan is here!!!”
And everything I planned to do goes out the window. I yell at him down the hall, “Jim, get your ass out of bed and get in here and entertain me!”
It takes a few minutes, and he comes down the hall in his wheelchair from his bedroom. And again, I say to myself, it could be me in that wheelchair. Over the years, Jim has lost his eyesight. I think he sees shadows, but I’m not sure he sees me. I tend to talk loud and slowly and try to enunciate as clearly as possible. I don’t know why; I guess in my mind, I want him to hear me.
JIM GENTRY
Jim has friends; the neighbors all know him, and they invite themself over to chat once in a while. While I was there, he was expecting a woman who I assumed was giving him financial advice. At least, that is what he said. I assume Jan, Jim’s wife, met her at church. They both talk highly of the woman coming to the house after attending church.
GAL FROM CHURCH - JAN (wife of Jim) - SON OF GAL. (I can’t remember their names.)
She came into the room with her son and began talking about church. Jan would ask her how the church service was that morning. “It was a real blessing,” she would say.
Her son is moving to North Dakota to follow a girl/woman. He is infatuated with her and believes he will love living in a cold climate instead of Florida. He believes his life will be better with the girl/woman than where he lives now.
I will have to admit I sat back and listened to the conversations. I, of course, had an opinion, but it was unnecessary in this setting. There was nothing I would say that would add any value to the conversation.
The woman from church and her son decided to leave, and I was left with Jim and Jan. We talked briefly, and our conversation became a little dry. I knew it was time to go, too.
I stood and approached him and grabbed his hand, and he squeezed mine hard. He whispered… “Stop back before you head home.”
