My Son Jimbo
For those who never knew him …

Babe

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

Surprise

We always told Lem Showell that it was his fault I got pregnant. They had invited us to a party for Robert Weaver, Secretary of Housing. Weaver got held up and arrived two hours late. In the meantime, we all kept drinking martinis. I can barely remember Weaver, let alone getting home.

When a few weeks later it became apparent that number 6 was on the way in spite of our always taking every precaution … well, it turned out that “always” didn’t include after Lem’s party.

On the delivery table, as I watched the breech proceedings in an overhead mirror, the doctor said as he pointed out an emerging shape, “Hey, know what that is? … It’s his balls!” That’s how I found out I had a second son.

He weighed all of 4 lbs, 8 oz. and wanted to be fed every two hours. He would only sleep if he were wrapped up tight in a blanket. He wasn’t ready to be in the world yet.

August 10, 1979

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

On August 10 Jimbo got up, had breakfast, ran, joked, played tennis, talked on the telephone, promised to sell his car and clean his room, and waved as I drove off to [volunteer work at] the National Revenue Tennis Classic tournament. At 2 p.m., he sat in a crotch of a sycamore tree 75 feet above the ground, talking with his friend Rick Hergesell of the future, but also expressing the bittersweet nostalgia for the boyhood that was ending. And then in a moment it was over and he was no more. A life of youthful vitality and health, seemingly invulnerable, in one instant obliterated.

From the Columbus Citizen-Journal:

Youth Killed After Shock, 75-Foot Fall

An 18-year-old Upper Arlington youth was killed Friday afternoon when he stepped on a power line as he was climbing in a tree and fell 75 feet to a blacktop surface, Upper Arlington police said.

James Sherman, son of Virginia and Richard U. Sherman, was pronounced dead at Riverside Hospital about 3:30 p.m. A June graduate of Upper Arlington High School, he was to attend Miami University in the fall. He was on his high school varsity [hockey] and tennis teams, a neighbor said.

Sherman’s next-door neighbor, Rick Hergesell, who was also in the tree when the accident occurred, was jarred loose by the shock, said his father. … The youths were climbing down when Sherman stepped on the power line.

Hergesell said his son and Sherman sometimes camped overnight by a pond near the tree and frequently climbed it. “They’re just adventurous kids who wanted to do something,” Hergesell said.

Hergesell said his son told him that Sherman fell limp after he touched the wire and made no attempt to break his fall as he fell through the branches to the pavement. Sherman landed on his back.

Sherman had been working at the National Revenue Tennis Classic [the week of his death]. He was the youngest of six children. 

Who Was Jimbo?

[Written by Jimbo's mother, Jinny, about seven years after his death, as the introduction in her book "My Son Jimbo"]

Ond day I realized that most of Jimbo’s nieces and nephews hadn’t yet been born in 1979. They are an unfortunate group to never have known this fun-loving young uncle who loved to play with kids of all ages. Perhaps when they are older they will read this and find out why their parents all loved him so. His brother and four sisters all helped to raise him, but it was more than that. He was our Renaissance man, bright, creative and inventive, with a wacky sense of humor shared by all his siblings.

He pushed to his limits and then some, which was great if it was a tennis or hockey match, but not so great if it was to test the boundaries I had put down. Then the bargaining would begin, and with his charm and tact he always got a little bit more. He’d look at me with his impish smile and his beautiful blue eyes and melt my heart. But he had to know where his boundaries lay–they were really a sanctuary to protect him from himself; he had to be a “good boy.”

He was mischievous and thoughtful, funny and serious, shy and outgoing, sometimes lazy, more often hard-working. He was wild and adventurous, but tender in his genuine love and concern for both animals and people. He was full of laughter and full of dreams. Life for him was a daring, glorious adventure. He was truly a golden boy and I will always miss him.