Life as a Godfather

I’ve known Marilyn since the Bloomington days. She was Jim’s best friend. She had a nomadic quality about her, we would often hitchhike back and forth to Fort Wayne together.

Always on the go, wherever she placed her hat was her home. Through the decades that has included: Alaska, Fort Wayne, Bloomington, Bedford, Waco, Singapore, New Zealand, Townsend, Louisville, and Providence. She’s  had a lot of hats.

After she moved to Australia in the early 80’s she would make semi-annual pilgrimages to Indiana where her Mother lived. To break up the journey she would stop and stay with me in San Francisco.

In 1983 her son Jordan was born. Because it was his last name, Jim thought the child was named for him. It gave him a certain complacency. Even though Marilyn later told me that was not the reason, I did not have the heart to tell Jim. In his waning years he deserved comfort wherever he could find it.

Namesake or not, Jim was horrible with the baby. He was always bad with children. Nervous, tense, and overly animated, little ones could sense the uneasiness.

I, on the other hand, have gotten along famously with children all my life. The secret to my success is probably because, in terms of emotional development at least, we function on the same level.

When it came time for Marilyn to pick godparents, my lack of moral character and complete disregard for traditional values made me an obvious choice. Here are some early shots of my godson’s tutelage as we worked on…



The Story of Jim

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