My Son Jimbo
For those who never knew him …

School boy (cont.)

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book, "My Son Jimbo"]

Wedding

I think things got a little out of control at [brother] Rick and Nell’s wedding. The night of the rehearsal dinner the booze, which we’d carted from Ohio to a hotel banquet room in this dry Georgia county, was running freely. We hadn’t been tipped off that Nell’s family were Southern teetotalers, so this turned out to be quite an unusual event, but I noticed that most of the men were having no trouble putting down their share.

In the middle of dinner, 7-year-old Jimbo and Nell’s little niece began to look awfully sleepy. Further investigation showed that they had finished off all the half-empty glasses.

Ringbearer

Nell had asked Jimbo to be ringbearer, so as is customary I tied the ring lightly on the little satin pillow with a single thread. Naturally we got to the church ahead of time and got busy with last-minute wedding tasks.

When the processional formed, Jimbo was missing. A quick search located him outside the church, in the dark, tossing the pillow high in the air, sometimes catching it, sometimes not. By some miracle the ring was still attached.

Schoolboy (cont.)

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book "My Son Jimbo"]

Sleep out

Back in our apple tree days, one of the trees had a large horizontal branch with a fork in it. One day Jimbo discovered he could be quite comfortable snuggled up in the crotch and announced he was going to spend the night there. I smiled and forgot it.

That evening, carrying pillow and blanket, Jimbo climbed up to his branch and settled in. Dick was afraid he’d go to sleep and fall off, but I said not a chance. Anyhow, I wanted to see how this ingenious child would get out of it.

We kept track of him out a window. It was a clear star-studded night so we could clearly see him shifting position with increasing frequency, until finally he climbed down and came inside to inform us that he would have stayed out there all night but as he thought it was probably going to rain, he had better do it another time.

Modesty

His best friend was Jayne Bean. One summer day I invited the two of them to go swimming. Jayne had been taught that she shouldn’t undress in public, so she and Jimbo were careful to close his bedroom door before they changed into their bathing suits.

Schoolboy (cont.)

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book "My Son Jimbo"]

Vanity

When he got his first pair of glasses, he was absolutely thrilled with them. His best friend whom he greatly admired wore glasses, so I think Jimbo equated glasses with great charm and popularity. 

I found him posing in front of the mirror. “You know, Mom, ” he said, “This could change my whole life.”

Double standard

He grew me a plant in school for Mother’s Day, but got mad at me that day, so he gave it to Dick [Jinny's husband/JImbo's father]. We’d had a few words, aand he’d given me a little lip. So I said, “Now, Jimbo, you just told me you didn’t like that kind of talk.”

Said he, “That’s different–I have a good reason.”

Chauvinist

When I told him to clean the disaster area that was his room, he informed me that housework was my job. Quickly detecting a difference of opinion on that point, he protested, “You only had me to do your work for you!”

Schoolboy

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book "My Son Jimbo"]

In first grade when the kiddies learned to print, the assignment was to write about your family. The amused teacher saved the paper for me, and I still have it.

    My brother is in the air force.
    My sister Baba plays. 
    My sister Sally is in India.
    My sister Holly skis.
    My sister Sherry draws.
    My father teaches economics.
    My mother never cleans the house.

He also learned in school that “September 21 is the first day of December.”

Aged Mom

As I sat for the umpteenth time in a second grade classroom for the annual open house, I noticed how much younger the mothers were then than they used to be. Then I spotted one about my own vintage. “A-ha,” I thought to myself, “so I’m not the only mom who got a little surprise in her middle years!”

After the close of the program, I sidled up to her and murmured, “And which one is YOUR child?” 

“That one,” she replied, pointing to the teacher!

Others remember Jimbo

[Written by those who knew Jimbo, right after his death]

“… Jimbo was a little fellow when you came, and we had been here several years. We loved watching him grow up. He went up and down the street in all  kinds of transportation–wagons, big wheels, tricycles, bicycles, contraptions for the 4th of July parades, then mopeds and cars.

“When our grandchildren visited us, he shared his outdoor equipment with them. When we purchased our little dog Kip, Jimbo would stop by to see him. He enjoyed Kip’s tricks. When he had publicity in the paper, he would stop by to get an extra copy. When you [Jinny] created our Christmas cards, he delivered them to us. He was so pleased with what you could do.

“Off and on he would come to ask us to help with some school project. In a very gentle way he would ask us.

He was a sweet, interesting person, wrapped up in whatever he was doing. We loved him.”

–Jo and John Conklin

“… We’ll always remember Jimbo’s contribution to the sign-making at the tennis tournament. He seemed to be following his mother’s talent. We will always remember him as a blossoming bright young man….”

–Carol Alexander

“… I remember the last time Jim was here at our house. He had found a little dog that was hurt, and he was trying to find where it belonged. This was when he was first able to drive and he was getting to do both things–help an animal in distress and have the joy of driving at 16….”

–Marge Warner

Little guy (cont’d)

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book]

Wanderlust

His insatiable curiosity and independence got him “lost” anytime I looked the other way. The first time was in Murphy’s store; he had discovered the escalator. Frantically searching, I arrived at the top of the escalator, just in time to see a little blond toddler heading for the door. My booming voice may not have stopped him, but a kindly lady sized up the situation and she did.

*     *     *

The scariest time was at a campground in the middle of hundreds of uninhabited wooded acres in the mountains of Pennsylvania. Marion and Jimbo were bugging me about something, so in a fit of irritation I told them to get lost — and they did. It was dark when they finally straggled back to their frantic family.

*     *     *

I lost him at COSI, the Zoo, and the Art Museum. At the State Fair I was in a panic until I heard the usual announcement over the loudspeakers about a “little boy in blue jeans and a red shirt …” etc.

*     *     *

After that, whenever I took my outgoing, adventurous toddler anywhere, I tied a long closthesline around his middle. At the supermarket, when I heard a disapproving voice stating that leashes were for dogs, I observed that that was okay, “My son thinks he’s a dog, and don’t get too close or he’ll bite.”

Dogs

Actually I wasn’t too far off the mark. Jimbo adored animals, so much so that I worried lest he get involved with a big set of teeth. But I guess dogs know who’s their friend. 

He asked me one day if he could go out and pay with his friends. When I looked out to see who his friends were, I saw two dogs. So he’d have a supply of people friends, I sent him to nursery school at three, a happy event for both of us.

Little guy (cont’d)

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book "My Son Jimbo"]

When you gotta go….

Not wishing to stop every hour or so on our trips [with numerous kids], we always carried a tennis ball can with us. It was just the right size (or usually was, although there were times…..), had a cover so it could be empited later if the urge struck in the middle of heavy traffic, and was always available to this tennis playing family. Now how does a small boy tell the tennis ball can in the car from the one at the Columbus City Tournament where we’d gone to watch Holly play? You guessed it….

*     *     *

About that same time on a trip he had to “tinkle” so somebody held the can for him while he lowered the elastic top of his shorts. When we had to stop suddenly, I turned to see if everything in back was okay–just as Jimbo lurched, let go his hold on his shorts, which promptly snapped up deflecting his aim … right into my face!

*     *     *

It was two years later, at the Ohio State fair, that Jimbo went into the ladies room with me for the last time. It was at that moment that it suddenly dawned on him that there were no men there. Like all little boys, when you gotta go, you gotta go, so he dashed into a stall, and there he stayed. Every few minutes he opened the door a crack, but seeing ladies in the room he closed it quickly. As they left, new ones entered, and it looked like we’d be spending the day in the ladies room until I explained the situation to some incoming ladies, who waited outside for a minute. When the coast was clear, Jimbo burst forth and bee-lined for the door in mortification.

Little guy

[Written by Jimbo's mother in her book]

When you gotta go…

[Cousin] Sari’s baby Sally Sampson was born when Jimbo was just four. We were all invited to her Christening, and the service was a little long for Jimbo’s bladder. Finally we emerged into the churchyard, where a little reception was planned.

As I was greeting Sari and the other relatives, I chanced to hear a lengthy and noisy splashing sound. Jimbo, who decided he wasn’t about to wait any longer, had modestly stepped behind a tree–with a diameter of about 4 inches.

I pretended I didn’t know whose kid he was.

Birthday

[Written by Jimbo's sister Sherry]

Today Jimbo would have been 48 years old.

Hard to believe. Would he have been overweight? Losing his hair like his famous great-grandfather?What would his chosen career have been?  Surely he would no longer be called “Jimbo.” Where would he be living? What about a wife? Children, perhaps even grandchildren? We’ll never know.

In our minds and hearts he will always be that tall, lanky teenager, whom people so loved that they broke attendance records at his memorial service.

Others remember Jimbo

[Written by those who knew Jimbo, right after his death]

“… When you all came here from Washington for Sherry’s graduation, there weren’t enough tickets to take care of everybody, so it was decided that Jimbo, then four, should stay at our house with me.

“He was a very bright youngster, and definitely had a mind of his own. When you all left it was pretty clear that Jimbo wasn’t at all sure that he approved of the arrangement, but he tried to make the best of it. As the evening progressed he slowly began to accept me as his friend, until finally he fell asleep squarely on my feet as I sat in my big chair. 

“The way in which his suspicions turned to trust was a heart-warming experience which remains vivid for me after fourteen years. Though we have followed his growth from a distance far greater than the length of my legs, I shall remember Jimbo as a beautiful child, asleep on my feet….” 

–Ned Laylin