My Beloved Uncle Jimmy

Jimmy Jones was in my life from the time I was born--he started dating my aunt that year.  (Clearly 1968 was a very good year...)  He officially became my Uncle Jimmy in 1978, and I couldn't have been a happier 10 year old.  I was so proud he was my uncle and Aunt Susie was my aunt.  They were young and hip and cool, (they called each other by their last names--Jones and Kanto) and most importantly, they paid attention to me.  I wanted everyone to know they belonged to me and I to them, so even several years later when they said I could drop the aunt and uncle I didn't.  Those titles connected me; those titles assured me I belonged.

In the fall of 1980 my cousin Drew was born and Aunt Susie and Uncle Jimmy asked me to go to the beach the following summer to be a Mommy's helper.  That summer changed my life.  I was a basically good kid, made straight A's, worked hard at sports, went to church (two churches every Sunday--a whole other story), mostly got along with my siblings, and rarely talked back to my parents (at least not aloud), but I had a hole.  There was an emptiness in me that I tried to bury, and most of the time did.  That summer exposed that hole and then filled it up.

It's hard to explain that summer---they'll say they didn't do anything but they did.  They talked to me

Emerald Isle 1981

like I was an adult; they took an interest in me; they played cards with me, Uncle Jimmy told me stories (some may have even been true),  and then at night I would lie upstairs in the loft with Drew and listen to them talk and laugh, play the guitar and sing.  They trusted me with their son; they told me I was beautiful, and they made me believe they loved me just because I was me and not because they had to.  They made me believe I was worthy and good.  The previous spring I had an eating disorder--I felt ugly, broken, and unworthy.  That summer I learned there were some people who wouldn't accept that and wouldn't let me accept that either.  The next year was still hard, but remembering that summer and those lessons is part of how I survived.  That summer sealed our relationship; that summer I became their Elvira--Uncle Jimmy never called me anything else for the rest of his life.

Story telling

Over the years I spent time at their home sometimes with my family and sometimes just me.  I loved those evenings of Uncle Jimmy playing guitar and he and Aunt Susie singing.  They introduced me to jazz and blue grass.  At night Aunt Susie and I would lay blankets out on the floor while Uncle Jimmy sang, "Make me a pallet on the floor" with us joining in.  No one can sing Joni Mitchell's "The Circle Game" like my Aunt Susie and every child should have it sung to them accompanied by the guitar when their eyes are struggling to stay open but they want to hear it "just one more time."  They introduced me to many voices including John Prine--a love that would continue and be reignited when I met and fell in love with the next man who played the guitar and sang for me and loved John Prine--I got to marry him.  (And Uncle Jimmy sang Elvira to me at the reception...)

Gangan and Uncle Jimmy

Was Uncle Jimmy perfect?  No--he had his demons.  He had his struggles and his own inner pain.  Uncle Jimmy suffered his first stroke in 2005--far too early for a man with so much life to live.  Uncle Jimmy struggled with faith and in his last years declared himself an agnostic.  After I was ordained he would sometimes send me articles about faith and ask what I thought...he continued to believe in me and to believe I had something to offer.  He continued to love me, to trust me, and to be proud of me.

The core of my theology--my die on the hill theology-- is God loves everyone no exceptions and ALL people regardless of age, sex, race, orientation or anything else are valuable, are worthwhile and deserve dignity and respect.  As I prepare to bury my beloved uncle I am reminded of how much he taught me that very theology when I was an awkward 13 year old with a hole in her heart--I am reminded of how much he lived that way and loved that way.  And I know that he has been granted eternal rest.

Give rest, O Christ, to Uncle Jimmy with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.  (BCP, 499)

I love you and miss you Uncle Jimmy,
Love, Elvira