A Final Evening with Jim Ward

Let me open up even more than usual for a second.

In January, when Jennell Jaquays died, it rocked me more than a bit. I’ve interacted with her since late 1989, when I talked her into letting me write an entry for Citybook IV, a little dream of mine to be in the series. Later, we worked together daily on the Dragon Dice project at TSR, becoming the sort of chummy colleagues that make a point to visit when they’re in your neck of the woods. And more recently, she’d become an online resource for this aging cisgender heterosexual white guy looking to understand and ally with other people.

In early March, my friend Steve Maggi died and, well, I still haven’t recovered. Steve and I were part of a group of cohorts at GDW in the mid 1980’s, along with Steve Bryant and a couple of others. We met regularly after work, usually to watch Kids in the Hall over a bottle of something, to moan and joke about hassles of the job. I was a decade older than the rest, so it felt like an honor to hang with them. Maggi stayed in touch ever since, as our lives and geographic locations diverged. When this focal seizure condition began impeding my natural extroversion, forcing me into retirement, Maggi continued to text and call, keeping the connection alive, making sure his “Sensei” was okay. (I hated when he called me that, but it’s a precious memory now.)

Exactly one week after Maggi, my friend Jim Ward died. Jim had hired me at TSR, kept me occupied with fascinating projects, always believing in me, always treating me as an equal. When TSR flew the two of us to England to introduce Dragon Dice to TSR UK, he took me Business Class right beside him, though I later learned he’d been told to fly me Coach and knew he’d take heat from Lorraine when we returned. When we continued on to Germany for the Essen trade show, he introduced me to Mike Gray and Reiner Knizia over evening board games. It was like taking part in a heavyweight prize fight. Later Jim, Tim Brown, and I partnered as Fast Forward Games, making some long drives together to TennCon, where our investors were located.

Jim and I argued bitterly over Trump on Facebook, but we stayed friends, sharing gifts by mail and conversations by phone, meeting pretty much always when I traveled back from Nebraska.

As I struggled through the shock of his loss at Gary Con, I was also fielding daily IMs from a woman who despised him. Jim could be crass sometimes, and ignorant about changing social mores, but I knew the guy’s inner sweetness, remember the confused innocence in his voice as he once asked me, “Lester, am I sexist?”

So let me be clear: Jim Ward was one of the purest souls I’ve ever known. All the good you’ve read about him in his friends’ memorials are absolutely true. He was warm, nurturing, enthusiastic, funny, and loyal to a fault.

My final memories of Jim are from texting the day after the podcast below. That somehow I had that evening to share with him, along with Steve Sullivan and David Wise, is some comfort.

But I’m at all not okay. Jennell’s loss hurts; the losses of Maggi and Jim are devastating. I’m still flinching away from facing those. Writing this post has been hellish. But the interview is a memory I’ll cherish. And Jim deserves to be honored and celebrated. As does Maggi. And Jennell. The world is so much the richer for their having been here.

Enjoy the video.

So it’s gonna be forever

Today’s episode of “Why’d I wake up with this in my head?”

Maybe it’s that Swift has been so much in the news lately, and the more I learn about her, the more I admire her. Maybe it’s that there are more than one poetically perfect turns of phrase.

I’d honestly forgotten I’d ever even heard this song, but apparently my heart hadn’t. Here’s hoping that’ll last forever.

MI4 FTW

I’ll admit, the helicopter in the train tunnel soured me a bit on MI-1. And Scientology soured me a bit on Cruise.

But COVID of late has kept me too worn out to get much work done, but not feeling so poorly that I can sleep.

So I’ve been binge watching MI, and I gotta say, Ghost Protocol strikes me as a near-perfect movie.

I love you . . .

Photo by Edward Howell on Unsplash

Often, when I’ve heard a celebrity say, “I love you all,” I’d think, “How is that possible? You’ve never even met me.”

But their saying so always gave me a warm feeling, a little boost. So I’ve often written the same, “I love you all,” in my mailings or blog posts.

Today I read a little message that makes me even more confident about telling you, whether we’ve met or not, I love you.

It’s this: If someone who never met you can hate you for your race, or sexuality, or politics, or whatever reason, if they can hate you sight unseen, then surely you and I can love each other sight unseen.

We’re all in this together. And if doing what we can to make one another’s lives better, if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.