I sat down to write a “how u doing” type letter to my friend, Jim Thompson aka “James” “Jimbo”, a world class laughter creating machine on what would have been his 40th birthday. Happy Birthday Dude.
Dude, Duude, DOOD:
How are you? I just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you on this day, May 17th, your birthday. I wish you could be here to hang out, eat some wings, drink a couple beers and shoot the shit in our seriously silly ass way. Happy Birthday Jim Thompson.
Cheers mate!*raising a cold beer*
I laugh when I think about how you might be now. I wonder how much hair you’d still have at 40 (I swear I didn’t notice the Rogaine in your bathroom). I wonder if you’d still be living in Trinity and if you’d be married with kiddies.
I always plan something fun on your birthday. On May 17th I honor the laughter and friendship we shared. Anyway, I don’t have anything special planned today but I have a feeling something fun is going to happen. *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*
Last year I celebrated in California and got my giggle on learning how to be a laughter yoga leader. Dude, how fricking hysterical is that? I know, I know, I was born to laugh and I look great in the clown nose. And yes, I heard the call for More Kazoo. I’m all over it. Thanks….thanks-so-much.
Back in 2006, Chelsea and I went to Ireland on your birthday to celebrate in a Jamesons and Guinness way (my Gawd the beer was heavenly, like, milk from above. Nothing beats fresh Guinness).
We carried your Iron Workers Irish American hat all over Dublin (including the Guinness factory) and we both got tattoos in your honor! Good times, good times. My traditional Italian American parents were none-to-happy about my Celtic tattoo. Did they think I would have gotten a meatball or an Italian horn? *laughing* I don’t think so…
I had a great weekend. I needed it. Too much stress and not enough play is bad for the laugh machine. I know, I know. I’m all over the giggles now that I’ve got my hands back in the dirt. Digging, planting and using my truck to go to the dump makes me happy. I’m going to learn how to cut stones with a saw this summer. Just watch!
Did you see the mustache? Dude, I’m so bummed. You have no idea. But I won’t get into all that now other than to say ARGH and *$#@!
I started working on the old house again. I bet you’re seeing all the new work on the porch. My friend’s husband, Mike, is our new go to construction guy (although, I wish you were doing the work, no offense to Mike). Remember when you were fixing the floor board around the side? Well, Mike’s replacing some of the other crapped out boards. He’s doing a good job and Chris tells me he even used carriage bolts! I recall your love affair with large metal fastening devices. You did love those bolts and I think you’d be happy with how Mike secured things.
I’m moving back into the house. You know, the house where I last saw you standing and breathing. The place where we worked side-by-side before you died. Not many people know I sold that house because I kept seeing you inside – not in a Casper the Friendly Ghost, Medium “I see dead people” literal way. With all the guilt, pain and sadness I had when you left, I simply associated the house with your death and I had to walk away from it. The pain in my heart was so cruel, so very deep. Ah, fuck it. Here come the tears and it’s your birthday so let me buck it up. *wiping tears and smiling again*
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I still think about you. Chris and I miss your laughter and your friendship. We hope you’re driving a pimped out motor cycle in heaven and giggling on in your own special way.
You were able to get me to laugh and smile when others failed. You silly fun bastard…thank you my friend, thank you.
Happy Birthday Jimbo. Giggle On! Giggle On…
P.S. I am going to the STP Alice in Chains gig next week, so, “cover me” (you know what I mean).
“Laughter rises out of tragedy, when you need it the most, and rewards you for your courage”. ~ Erma Bombeck
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