Wednesday, September 1, 2021
RIP Jim. My Columbia MBA flatmate for 18 months (at 1284 Amsterdam Ave at 123rd St 10027, above the Ethiopian reseaurant) until he proposed to Kate, the long distance love of his life. A friend emailed me this terrible news and it's " a gut punch."
A lovely man. We met while standing next to eachother on line at MBA enrollment registration in late August 1990. It was a steaming hot humid Manhattan day and the line took several hours to move. We chatted for hours, discovered we were Python connoisseurs, Jim having had some kind of honorary role at The Ministry of Silly Walks, we had similar backgrounds, we had grown up partly overseas, Jim in western Europe me in Hong Kong and Japan, and our fathers each led global companies. Jim had a two bedroom airconditioned flat and was looking for a flatmate, I was in a Columbia student flat without AC. So a chill American bloke and an intense Aussie sheila became MBA flatmates. Morningside Heights at 123rd could be a bit iffy 32 years ago and I felt much safer in a shared flat.
In an orientation Myers Briggs seminar, Jim learned he was INFP and I learned I was ESTJ... polar opposites. A great pal throughout grad school, Jim edited my writing I helped with the math, and we each drank our tea strong with milk in the British way. He would mock the presence of my jars of Vegemite in the refrigerator and comically philosophize about the wisdom, or not, of sharing a flat with someone from Australia where strange looking marsupials live and every animal wants to kill you. Jim was great with housework, I wasn't, because I have an existential objection to doing housework, so I paid a housekeeper. His parents invited me to join their family Thanksgivings in 1990 and 1991, lovely days.
It was the era of CNN's 24/7 cover of Gulf War 1 and Operation Desert Storm, the emergence of Christiane Amanpour as the rockstar war correspondent, Terminator 2 was in the theaters, Nirvana released Nevermind, Metallica was on their way to being the world's biggest selling metal band, and the US launched the Hubble Telescope.
Jim was the easiest, most considerate and sensible flatmate ever. He had a great sense of humor. One day, this "not morning person" Aussie was confronted by the vision of Jim, bright and perky, ready for his day, dancing in the kitchen to rev up for classes to Jethro Tull's "Aqualung" at volume ... a blur of blue jeans and plaid shirt that was quite entertaining! He posessed an easy social manner with no hidden agenda, was a solid conversationalist, and comfortable with people of all stripes. Hundreds of Columbia classmates enjoyed laughing with him as he shared a joke or four at the weekly student happy hours. My parents would call the flat and if Jim picked up they always had a pleasant, sometimes humorous chat.
Jim was living proof that Harry Burns was wrong: Men and women can definitely be friends. If I had a brother I would want him to be just like Jim. He said several times he would have enjoyed having a sister and I believe it was that particular aspect of his nature that made him an unconditional friend to both men and women. After graduation we all moved on with our lives, overseas and interstate moves, demanding work assignments, business travel, 70 hour work weeks, marriages, families, children, elder parents, more masters and a PhD. But the great memories remained.
Life is randomly unfair. Cancer is a pernicious beast. So dreadfully sad for all his family as he loved and was dearly loved by them. I will make a pot of industrial strength English black tea now and dedicate the first cuppa to Jim. Rest easy, mate.
