Jim Dyer died May 11, 2012 at the age of 76. My daughters alerted me last Fall that he was having issues and had been in the hospital at least twice. Jim's problems were fluids, weakness and medical blah, blah, blah - he slid down hill and died. I had sent him a couple of cards and received a nice note in return. " . . . a few more doctors, a few more pills and I'll be through this."
I knew him in high school but not very well. He had a tremendous sense of humor and at some point we became friends. We marched in a couple of parades side by side in the first rank as (tall) sailors and he would happily hurl comments at helmeted soldiers, "Avast - air raid wardens!" We dated the sisters Nicotera - in fact I introduced him to Madeline, his future wife of fifty years - and eventually we became brothers-in-law. We had funny times courting the sisters - and occasionally after dates - the fun would continue - we would slip off to dark "joints" to meet up and socialize with their uncle, a hard drinking, macho, kinda racist, short, thin, bald, Italian-American super patriot and veteran of WW 2, Cy Susso. Cy had come to enjoy our company in spite of our lack of Italian ethnicity (" two (expletive) big guys"!) - and we had fun.
Jim's daughter "little Annette" (her aunt was rarely called "big Annette") and my daughter Cathy were born about the same time and saw much of each other growing up. We vacationed together even getting Jim to try what he referred to as "that camping shit". Jim was not a great swimmer - he hired another sailor to swim the pool for him in boot camp - but in their second child Jimmy, was collected all the family's swimming DNA - from the earliest age Jimmy Jr. would crab, crawl, totter and stagger into any water be it ocean, lake or brimming bucket.
Jim may once have saved our father-in-law's life, certainly his sanity. Louie had just carried an open gallon of paint up the stairs to begin painting an apartment. He put it down at the top of the stairs and then inexplicably kicked it over. As a torrent of white poured down the stairs Louie stood at the top, arms raised to the heavens yelling "Jesus Christ on the cross - take me now!!!" Jim had just come through the front door. He quickly picked up a paint brush - and that is how the staircase of the house on Lansing street became white.
I deeply regret that I never heard Jim, an English professor give a lecture or lead a seminar - reports are that he was charismatic, sceptical and humorous. Through the years we had drifted apart as he became more conservative and I became more liberal. Then Annette and I divorced.
Two years ago in August I was walking by the Cider Mill and Jim hollered at me from the gift shop. They were all there, Jim, Madeline, "little" Annette and her husband George, young Jim and his wife. We shouted pleasantries and then chatted for a few minutes. I choked up to see them together - now that is a memory I shall carry the rest of my trip.
I miss Jim and those years ago and Louie - and Uncle Cy.
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