Jimmy, Joy, & Jack Daniels

Most people called him Jim or Jimmy.  I would eventually come to call him James Henry.  We met in Mr. Barroneon’s class during the fifth grade. However, my family and I moved away at the end of the school year. It wasn’t until the summer before ninth grade that we came back to Hayfork to visit my oldest brother Monroe. After he moved out of the house Monroe returned to the small town to live.  During that time Monroe had become very close to the Patton family. He and Jimmy were best friends and became inseparable.

June 14 1992 Monroe picked me up in his tiny chocolate brown Datsun pick-up. Reno Patton sat shot gun and Jimmy was squished between the two straddling the stick shift.  I was told to hop in and grab a lap. Jimmy widened his stance and pushed his leg up against Reno. I climbed in and sat down on his grease stained jeans. He smelled of sawdust and motor oil with a hint of whiskey.

We drove to Murison’s gas station at the edge of town. Monroe ran in to purchase some Keystone and I innocently awaited my brother’s return. Reno Patton leaned over and exclaimed, “Hey, you two can get married someday and we can slaughter a cow for your wedding!”  I chuckled and passed off his odd comment. Jimmy made small talk until Monroe returned with the beer.

That night at Monroe’s girlfriend’s house Jimmy pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “You need to help me.”  Puzzled and curious, I sought clarification to his blunt statement,  “help you with what?”  “I’m an alcoholic,” Jimmy responded. He laughed it off and said, “It’s my birthday tomorrow.” I didn’t quite know how to respond. I had never met anyone like him before. He intrigued me.  He turned sixteen that year and eventually we became bosom buddies.

We ended up making out and the next thing I knew his hands were down my pants.  This was all happening so fast and I wasn’t ready for what was taking place. I put a stop to it before things went any further. We hung out for several hours before we finally fell asleep in a tent in the front yard.  Early the next morning my dad came to pick me up. Ashamed of what I had done I wrote about Jimmy in my journal. He was never on the attractive side but he wasn’t ugly either. I loved his eyes and his adventurous personality.

Uncomfortable with what had happened, I would avoid Jimmy every time we came to town.  He heard I was hanging out with some friends at the park and sought me out to show off his fully restored Cobalt blue 1965 Oldsmobile his grandfather had given him. He knew I was a sucker for automobiles and convinced me to take ride around town. It wasn’t too long after that we moved back to Hayfork and I could no longer dodge running into him. 

I found myself veering more and more from my moral convictions. Jimmy was becoming my closest friend. I felt safe when he was around. He had an air of confidence about him that I was drawn to. He was the life of the party and was always trying to find ways to make me laugh. It was my brother Bob that didn’t like us spending time together. Even though Bob wasn’t living an exemplary lifestyle at the time, he was also my big brother and was trying to look out for me. Bob constantly warned me to stay away from Jimmy. He told me he was not good for me.  Deep down I knew that to be true.  I just didn’t seem to care. I liked Jimmy. He made me feel good about myself. He filled a void of loneliness that I had struggled with for a long time. 

My mother also saw straight through Jimmy’s charisma and charm. It was obvious to her that he was a dysfunctional boy who wasn’t going to lead me in the right direction. My parents tried to set out healthy boundaries, but my daddy was a long haul truck driver and was rarely home to enforce the rules. Momma did her best, but this red headed girl had a mind of her own. What she did teach me was the power of prayer and the reality of the spirit realm.

I was told if there is drinking involved, you can’t go. This was a small town; everyone drank… especially Jimmy. Somehow, I regularly made my way out of the house anyway. At party’s you could find me holding a girl’s hair out of her face while she puked her guts out. I would be telling her how much Jesus loved her and praying out loud over her the entire time. On many occasions I would be the sober driver. Now fourteen years old I would find myself racing the locals with two or three drunk friends in the vehicle making sure everyone got home “safe.”

It had been a year since Jimmy I first hung out and now we were officially dating. He was my happy place. I would brag about hanging out with Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and James Henry Patton. Jimmy loved my fiery spirit and risk taking personality. I could take shots of whiskey with a straight face until a whole bottle was polished off. We would hoop and holler until we had more than our fill. I was never afraid of much besides being alone and not doing something significant with my life. Despite my actions at the time, the party culture never really suited me. Adventure, fun, and meaningful relationships were what I was sincerely seeking. At that point in my life Jimmy was the epitome of those things. Looking back, we were just two broken kids trying to find love in all the wrong places.

To be continued…