My friend James York would have been 40 today. This summer, on the fourth anniversary of his passing, I quoted something he wrote. Today, I thought I would write more about him and our friendship.
James was my sister’s friend before mine, close enough that he had even helped her move from our parents’ home. I didn’t meet him until ten years later.
I was hosting a Monday night open mic at a coffee place in Phoenix called the Willow House. He had been away from the world, and now he was coming back, so my sister called me from Utah to say she’d be directing him my way. I guess she wanted me to welcome him back since she couldn’t from a state away.
There is so much more I want to tell you about him, but I don’t know that it’s my place to publish all the details here. There are bad times from his life I wasn’t around for, that I never asked him about, and that I didn’t know the whole story on until after he died. I can tell you that he lived a very hard life, that he faced very difficult circumstances, and that he made some very bad mistakes. He emerged from it all one of of the kindest, wisest men I have ever known. Our mutual friends and I have often referred to him as “more evolved” than most. But he had to burrow his way there up from rock bottom.
James and I met, we got along, and we became friends. He came out to shows I promoted and performed at. We drank together, we talked about girls, we talked about writing and music, and we talked about the places we wanted to go. He welcomed me into his life, his circle of friends. He worked hard and he pursued his studies.
There were nights I got to Willow House a little later than I wanted, lugging in a PA that I would borrow from the very generous Corey Busboom, and setting up the open mic with a frazzled look on my face. I remember often expressing my frustration, aimed only at myself, with James. And he would laugh. And I would think, “What the hell are you laughing at?”
We lost him because of a motorcycle accident in a mall parking lot. From what I understand, from what I recall, it was his fault, and he was not wearing a helmet. There’s sadness about his death, but also anger, because why couldn’t he have been more careful? There was also a lot of regret on my part. He was there to say goodbye when I left Arizona. He was gone seven months later. I never made it back to see him. Why didn’t I call more? Why couldn’t I have been on the phone with him that morning, delaying the steps he would have taken to his parking spot, changing the course of events entirely?
This is not realistic. I suspect even James would have laughed at this. I still don’t know the full depth as to what was behind that laugh, and I can’t quite articulate the little I do grasp, only that he was in on something I slowly inch closer to understanding the older I get.
I met a lot of great people thanks to James, and we all came together to mourn him and celebrate his life with our memories. Time and distance has separated us, but I still value them and remember the many days and nights we spent in each other’s company that week leading up to James’ memorial.
Some of James’ ashes came with Megan and I to Hawaii a few years ago, over Thanksgiving weekend. I would have held onto them, but that wasn’t the point of them being trusted to me. James is part of the ocean now, and I know he’s traveled across the globe thanks to many having him accompany us on our own journeys.
I think about him all the time and I miss him.
While composing this, I looked back at some writing of his. I discovered the passage below. I can’t say with any certainity that he had me in mind at all, only that he wrote it while I sat near, stressing out about the open mic. But finding it feels like stumbling upon a message in a bottle on the sand.
June 26, 2006 - 9:04 PM
Open mic make me feel….
I have found the time- to find myself…
and in time, I have found something I like….
something I’ve never had before….
something everyone might….
I had sought, in my given time, a way to heal-long
lived with pangs and come away whole.
And given time, I know that the indifference of life,
can be full….
So, if given the gift of time my friends,
take my word-
use it to find yourself in the world…
use it to love yourself…
and in return the world will love you….
The EIT! team will be all over North America with their new joint, “DoggieWoggiez! PoochieWoochiez!,” from right about now until mid-April. My Life As A Horse has a song in this thang, so go show some love. Click the link above for all the dates.
