Coming Back

Coming back to real life after a fabulous trip abroad can be very hard, notwithstanding jet lag and having to catch yourself to keep from saying "merci" to everyone.

Even harder is when something tragic happens to someone you care about while you were out of the country. My good friend, Jim B., suffered a serious stroke four days before I arrived home. For years, Jim has been a stable presence at my favorite coffee shop, Hyperion Espresso (on the corner of William and Princess Anne Streets in Fredericksburg). Jim, in his hat, sitting outside smoking, always with several friends around enjoying lively early-morning political conversations or just some of Jim's bad jokes. I could tell the time by the sighting of that hat as I drove by on my way to work assignments.

Jim is a staunch supporter of local musicians and artists and has developed a website and mailing list to keep everyone apprised of certain local musicians' gigs, new CDs, artists' shows, and other useful information. He does this gratis because he has a generous spirit. From day one, he has also been a huge supporter of me and my house concert production company; early on, he and I would talk for hours about names, marketing, creating a web presence, and how to get the best musicians interested in what I'm doing. We would talk so much we'd end up slap-happy and silly, throwing out the dumbest names we could think of . . . just because.

Jim was also a good ear for my personal trials over the past few years; he was extremely non-judgemental and helped me realize that one of the reasons I fell for a con man (he knew him also) is that I am the type of person who has faith in people, no matter what. He bolstered me when I was down and would tell me over and over that I was a very good person with a big heart and not to feel any less about myself because of what happened. A week before I left for France, my family and I went for a daysail with Jim and another friend, Barry. It was a wonderful day, full of sunshine, good wind, and tons of laughter emanting from the cockpit. Near the end of the day, Jim took the helm; he stayed there for a good portion of the sail home.

After visiting Jim when I returned home, I realized he has a long uphill journey ahead of him. His doctors say he should get back to 90 percent. That's a great prognosis. Even though I couldn't understand everything he said when he spoke, I could tell that his sense of humor is still very much intact. When Gary called me with the news, he said that Jim told him that the only way I could visit him was if I came bearing a good French wine (is there any BAD French wine?). Needless to say, after several slowdowns and delays at the airport, I was running with seconds to spare to the wine shop before leaving DeGaulle.

To my dear friend Jim, I wish a speedy recovery. That fine French wine is in my wine cabinet, waiting until he can savor it and hold that glass again with his strong left hand while taking the helm with his right. Bonne chance, mon ami!