Jim dandy

Jim McMurry and I were political opposites. He was a Democrat and a steadfast supporter of Barack Obama, and I a libertarian Republican and Ron Paul backer.

Jim was a firebrand, just like me. We both joined in on political discussions on Facebook and other online sites, and were convinced we were right and those who disagreed were wrong.

Jim was a prince of a guy

Almost everything about us would suggest we were mortal enemies. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I miss my friend Jim. Two nights ago, while on his way to work at the local newspaper, Jim began having chest pains. He turned his pickup truck around and headed to the hospital.

Jim never made it. He died of a heart attack behind the wheel. Jim was 50 years old.

I learned of Jim’s untimely death from another Facebook friend. The news was like a punch to the stomach. I immediately went to Jim’s Facebook page to confirm what I was reading was true. Sadly, it was. Jim’s many friends already were posting tributes.

These last few days I’ve been thinking a lot about Jim.

Our odd couple friendship began in 2008, when I posted a comment on a newspaper online forum about Obama that Jim had started. The thread originally was intended to promote a local fund-raising event for the Obama campaign that Jim was organizing. The thread lived on long after the event was over and Obama was elected, and evolved into a general meeting place for anyone interested in political discourse. Some posts were incendiary, with the usual name-calling and tit for tat that’s common in politics today. Jim was right in the middle of it all, refusing to back down. He dished out as much as he took.

Jim remembered me at Christmas...

In time I found myself a regular contributor to the thread. Although Jim and I exchanged opinions many times, our conversation never turned negative. For reasons I can’t explain, we had an unspoken agreement to keep our discussion on a respectful, intellectual level.

As Facebook became more popular, Jim and I moved our political dialogue there. Our change of online venue did not change how we treated one another. Even in the political din surrounding us, we remained civil with each other.

We continued to discuss politics online, but more often we would post messages to each other about the more important aspects of life: family, faith and friendship. He would “poke” me on Facebook and I would “poke” him back. We sent each other birthday greetings and joked about our shortcomings and the frustrations of making ends meet. When I was honored with a local volunteerism award, Jim said he was proud to be counted among my friends.

Actually, the pleasure was all mine.

...with a heartfelt message

I had several contacts with Jim in the days leading up to his death. On Dec. 10, in a private Facebook message, Jim asked for my mailing address. I provided it, along with this: “Are you planning to send a team of Obama 2012 campaign workers by to work me over? Ha ha!” Jim responded with “No, no one named Carmine or Big Louie.” He placed a winking emoticon at the end of the sentence.

Several days later a Christmas card arrived from Jim. Then a few days before Christmas I got a call from my friend, asking if I’d like to join him and a few other amateur political wonks for a drink at a downtown watering hole. I told him I had other things going on that night, but asked to be included in any future get-togethers.

I wish now that I had cleared my calendar that night and joined them.

My last correspondence with Jim came on Christmas Eve. I finally got around to acknowledging the card he’d sent. In a Facebook post on Jim’s wall I wrote, “Thanks for the nice Christmas card. I hope you and yours have a wonderful holiday season, as well. Sometime soon let’s meet for coffee – my treat.”

I owe you that cup of joe, Jim. Maybe on the other side we can sip a mug together and have a nice, long talk – friend to friend.

We can discuss politics as long as we want. Even if by then it doesn’t matter at all.