Getting to Know Us.

 

jimmy and Mr. Kafka

 

jimmy, (James Lee) was my father’s, sister’s child. jimmy was born, July 14, 1954. He died, July 22, 1954. When I was born 3 years later, my aunt gave her blessing to my parents to name me, James Lee.

                               jimmy rockin' & rollin' with Lynyrd Skynyrd

I became aware of my special name years later, when I was about 12 years old. I was with my parents when they went to the cemetery to look after their parents’ grave sites. I must say, it was odd, eerie, and peculiar experience to see my name, his name on a tombstone. It was then that they told me about him.

Fast Forward

I don’t recall the exact date/ time when I had the ‘what the heck am I doing with my life moment,’ but when I did, I decided I needed to live not only for myself, but also for jimmy. He deserved the experience of life. So, together always, he lives through me – jimmy's second chance.     

I use the name, jimmy, because I prefer to think of him as my whimsical and spirited cousin who looks after me, and my Guardian Angel. (Yes, I talk to him a lot. I am not crazy, I’m old and extremely strange.)

Fast Forward – again

Before I jumped into the deep end of writing a novel, I practiced writing dialogue – mostly how I perceived a conversation with jimmy would go if he was here. After hundreds of written out conversations, I finally felt comfortable with the personality I had manufactured for jimmy, which instilled my confidence to create a persona and individuality for characters in a novel.

Fast Forward – one more time

Here’s a typical conversation between jimmy and I.

“Whatcha doing, Mister Kafka?”

“Hey, jimmy. I just finished scribbling down some informative and provocative stuff about us.”

“Why? No one will read it.”

“They might.”

“No, no they won’t”

“Yes they . . .”

“Nope!”

“But . . .”

“Trust me, Mister Kafka. They’ll read the first sentence then move on to the silly, animal video that their friend posted or some family vacation pictures.”

“Whatever. Want to go to lunch, jimmy?”

“Sure. I’m in the mood for a double cheese burger and some fries.”

“jimmy, you do realize eating that stuff is not good for you.”

“I don’t think it matters, Mr. Kafka.”

“Good point. I’ll have my usual, coffee and a cigarette.”

“Mr. Kafka, you do realize . . .”

“I know, jimmy. I know.”

“Can I drive this time, Mr. Kafka.”

“Stop talking and just get in the car.”

 

 

For jimmy – my best friend. 

 

j/k