06 December 2014

Jim will remember ~ love to you all, Bob

from Margaret Waller




a poem for Jim and you from Dianella

Il corvo
l'ho visto
veniva da lontano
dove stai tu
si è posato sulla terra
nuda, bagnata e nera -
e poi ha fatto
un suo piccolo volo
e si è di nuovo
posato sulla terra -
ho alzato lo sguardo al cielo
e ho pensato
mi piacciono i corvi
e non mi dicono
nevermore, nevermore
ma ancora
di nuovo

( I see him
he came from afar
where stay you
he has setteled
on the black naked wet hearth -
and after he did a little flight
and again he
has settled on the earth -
I looked up to the sky

and I I thought
I like crows
and they don't tell me
nevermore, nevermore
but yet

6 December 2014

Jim has been moved out of the hospital to a quiet place where Deirdre, Jed, Thea, Bert, & Maggie sit by his side.
We read to him, we talk to him, we listen to music & we wait.
We are with Jim. We are loving him. We are at his side on what we believe to be his final trip, as such. 
The river does not end when it reaches the sea.
He sees us. He hears us. He seems peaceful. We believe he knows where he is going. He always knows.
We are sharing our Love with him as you are sharing your Love with him.
Thank you all so much. Hold Jim in your hearts as he holds all of you in his.
with Love from Joplin, Missouri


The point:
that it always happens
with appropriate ritual.
Repeated in its own time & place,
appropriate ritual will effect
what is to be effected.

James Koller
4 Nov 1997
for Shannon Rose Riley


She cried & said, Sure,
when the time comes I will
cover you with red roses.

James Koller
Aug 1987

from Gary Lawless

Opening boxes of new books this week at the bookstore and here is a new, third edition of Shaking The Pumpkin - Traditional Poetry of the Indian North Americas - edited by Jerome Rothenberg, with two sections by Koller - “Wolf Songs & Others of the Tlinget”  and Sioux Metamorphoses”
Koller, still talking to us -
"You surprise me, crow
whenever you see wolf people
you get way up on some branch"

from Ida

Portrait of James Koller by Travis Chapman. Winter 2012

from Leslie Burhoe

Stefan, Jim, and Franco.

from Mariagrazia, another link

A recipe by Jim published in my veggie blog (in Italian, with partial translation into English), and also in my book of recipes, Vongole felici (Stampa Alternativa, 2014).
With love

from Dianella with love

Mi piacciono i corvi
ce n'è uno
fuori dalla tua finestra
ti racconta
i nostri pensieri
per te

(I love crows
there is one
outside your window
 tells you
our thoughts
for you)

from Governor Clay

There ain't one hammer
Down in this tunnel
That can ring like mine
That can ring like mine

Rings like silver
Shines like gold
Rings like silver
Shines like gold

I'm going on the mountain
Just to see my baby
And I ain't coming back
No I ain't coming back

               Roll on buddy

from Anna Ruchat

Da Anna Ruchat

Pavia, Italia, 2011, Foto di Elda Papa

from Edward van Aelstyn

Almost 50 years ago, Jim, you and I and Jean and Carole went round and round our kitchen table in Eugene collating our first Coyote’s Journal.  That was one of many good times I remember from those days.  They are present to me now, and they were wonderful.  I wish you the very best in this extremity.  I’m in recovery also, slowly gaining strength after 7 months of chemo following a cancer operation.
I give back to you a poem of yours that has been good for me:


It won't last, nothing does.
Don't worry about it.
Things change.
You can't worry about it.
You have to be where you're at.
You have to do what you can do.
Don't worry about it.
Be where you're at.

your friend of then and now, Edward van Aelstyn (Van)

05 December 2014

I love you Jim. - Sungila (Joshua) O’Donnell

to Jim

That’s the way it was
I had routines, things I did everyday
It didn’t matter – I did it anyway
In summer I’d walk off the trails
It was impossible to get lost
People would sometimes hear me out there.
They’d stop and look through the woods
I’d watch them settle their questions about me
A blue jay, a red squirrel, a wild turkey
It’s funny how most people don’t even see crows
I’d be right there, naked, changing
Glistening in those black eyes
Wet with bay water – toes wrapped on a root
Nothing, nobody, already gone.

Winter came just in time to fix the awful
Knowing that I had been where I was
Walking on water – ghost light skinny
Listening to ice talk – babbling out loud
Speaking ocean in slant rhyme and repeated lines
Seesawing icebergs with my shadow.

I must have been watching her for a long time
I had taken off both pairs of gloves to get warm
The pain was just returning to my fingers
I pressed them hard into that hemlock
She said something, I wasn’t hearing
Then she must have said it again
I shivered; she was looking right at me
Looking right at her
Suddenly I knew to go away.

I have a new routine now
- the same way
When I think of her, what she said
It’s always different.

Coyote out on the frozen bay
Looking back over her shoulder
She says
Hello & fuck off
– like it was
It’s got to be this cold to see your breath.

I love you Jim.
-          Sungila (Joshua) O’Donnell
Brunswick, Maine
December 5, 2014

from Mariagrazia and Stefano

Not so many days ago we exchanged mail with Jim concerning a poem he wrote last time he was here at our place and in Pescara, at the university where he had a meeting with students of English language and literature. The poem has to be published in "Traduttologia", in next issue.

We are also moved by the title you chose for the collection of his poetry, since Stefano made it a song. 
And he played it many times with Jim, he worked with him on the song...

That's all for tonight, We will write again.
We are glad Jim has a large and beautiful family and is now well cared at the hospital.

Mariagrazia and Stefano

Jim Koller
Traduzione di Mariagrazia Pelaia

Persi fra strade in cui passiamo e ripassiamo
sapendo solamente che ci siamo già stati.

Preso il treno da Tivoli, dal finestrino abbiamo
guardato quella pioggia giù sui colli abruzzesi.

Ritrovata la strada torniamo alle stanze.
Mi vedo lì da solo, con lo sguardo sospeso…

Ignaro delle foto ancora da venire,
non dove le avrei viste, lungi da questa stanza.

Ora, dici, riprendi quel treno, non più insieme…
andrai fin sulla spiaggia? Non sarà come allora.

Lungo la riva, onde al crepuscolo, infrante
prima di incontrare la nostra sabbia pesta.

Rimettiamo in piedi una sedia di vimini
lì trovata, un relitto dalla costa croata?

Proseguire? La sedia invita a riposare,
rivolta alla sua patria, che altro si può guardare?

Le onde sempre più bianche in un foscheggiante mare,
prima di incontrare la nostra sabbia pesta…

Ostico ipotizzare che prepara la notte,
non vedendo nemmeno cosa abbiamo davanti

a una certa distanza… resti di nave estinta?
con alberi distesi su nell’oscurità.

Invece non son alberi, sono travi di un ponte
su cui salire: un ponte per il futuro, udite!

Giriamo e torniamo per la strada già fatta.
Tu indichi i lucchetti, i vincoli di Venere

appesi al ponte, ora moda in Italia, dici,
uso iniziato altrove, non qui. Un altro ponte.

Ho visto poi le foto e mi sono sorpreso
di trovarti e vederti qui accanto a me.

5-19 dicembre 2010
Per Mgp



James Koller

We were lost walking those streets, passing again
through them, knew only we'd been there before.

We'd taken the train from Tivoli, watched the rain
out our window, falling on those Abruzzi hills.

We did find our way, made it back, up to our rooms.
I see myself sitting alone, staring at my wall.

I hadn't yet seen the pictures, they were still ahead,
not where I'd soon see them, far from that room.

You say now you'll return, ride that train again.
Will you walk the beach, too? Won't be like it was.

All along the shore, the waves at dusk, broke
before they reached us, where we walked, in sand.

When we found a wicker chair, we stood it on its legs.
Wreckage. Washed up from the Croat coast?

Did we keep walking? With the chair to rest in, with its view
back to where it came from? What else could we see?

Waves, breaking white, in a darkening sea,
before they reached us, where we walked, in sand.

Hard to see what's ahead with night coming on,
couldn't see what was there, before us, in the distance.

Looked to be what was left of some near gone ship,
its masts reaching out into the darkness.

But they weren't masts, were the supports of a bridge,
& we walked up onto it. A bridge to tomorrow, I said.

We turned around, went back, the way we'd come.
You pointed out the locks, locked lovers' locks,

hung from the  bridge, The custom now in Italia, you said,
begun, somewhere else, another, bridge. Not this one.

When I did see the photos, I was surprised
to find you, see you, standing beside me.

5-19 Dec 2010  for MGP

from Mariagrazia and Stefano - Moricone, Rome - Italy

my dears
these are some pics, just a few of many, portraying different situations with Jim along the years.
The b/w pics are by Marco Cinque, from a reading and discussion on bioregionalism at La Città dell'altra economia, Rome.
Some other pics come from his personal exhibition at Grafica Campioli, Monterotondo (Rome) where he took his collages.
And others at our place and going around in Rome.

We are with you and hope for the best.
We like very much the name of the blog.

Mariagrazia and Stefano - Moricone, Rome - Italy

from Stefano Panzarasa

‘Hallo Thea,
First photos of dear Jim on my last book of nature education "Talking to trees" where there is a section on Jim when he went whit me to read his poems to kids in the schools of Monti Lucretili Natural Park...
Stefano Panzarasa’

Birch tree love, Bob

from Leslie Hoffman

Jim - I am summoning all recall of the years we spent time together, and I credit you, and all those you introduced me to, with having a hand in shaping my path forward. I wait, with all of your family, friends and fans, to hear that you will remain with us. If not, we will meet up on the other side, as we said so long ago. Fortuna

Love, Bertie

Ida or I took this photo of Dad & Bruder on one of our many summer trips to Chicago.

Love, Peter Coyote

we’ve been through this before. Remember New Mexico and yr ‘heart attack’ or whatever it was? I gave you beads to hold and you gave me a poem, “This Man is a Doctor.” It’s true, and I’m not ready to let you go yet. Too many memories and good stories. Bringing Sam to me in Sebastapol. Shooting the .357 magnum out the window as we crossed country. Yr coyote print is tattooed on my chest over my heart, and on my right hand ring finger. We’re together in some way and I’m not ready to go, or let you go either. If you’re stubborn (you are stubborn) but if you won’t or can’t listen and you feel that the world of formlessness is more interesting, diviing into the source of all poetry, well then, alright, I can understand that. I won’t bitch, I’ll see you when you return as the rain.
Failing that, I’m editing all the poems I’ve written over the last 50 years, working with a real good poet to help me edit them. I was always too shy to show them to you, but now I want you to read them. Didn’t think I would run out of time. How silly of me. Prove me wrong, Jim. Stick around. Be a granddad awhile longer. Write some more poems. Bring back the real deal info from where you are right now and share it.
You’re so respected and loved. Bask in in just a bit longer.
Peter Coyote   (Hosho Jishi—my Buddhist priest’s name. Next time you see me, I’ll be a transmitted teacher, and we’ll be two old Zen dogs scratching fleas, and sniffing the wind for something to interest us.) Don’t miss that.
I love you.

Coyote sign (with love, Maggie)

From The Bone Show, James Koller



It won't last, nothing does.
Don't worry about it.
Things change.
You can't worry about it.
You have to be where you're at.
You have to do what you can do.
Don't worry about it.
Be where you're at.

04 December 2014

Love, Bob & Susan

Love, Ida Rose Chapman

Sitting in my car alone, outside of Gulf of Maine books, propped against the steering wheel. Hearing my father's voice read me this poem. I close my eyes, (how many times in as many days), and there he is.
In me. All along. Of course.

from Peg Swift

Jim, when we first met, in Santa Fe at the Hadley's house. 
Thank you for the years together, the poetry, the children. 
In love and prayer. Peg

Love, Katherine Golfinopoulos

With Love & Tenderness, Katherine

from Tom Chapin

Years and years and years of Saturday or Sunday mornings, drinking coffee and whiskey and smoking cigarettes talking about the big ideas that most people hold too dear to discuss.  Man, Jim is an intrepid human being, I wonder what form his thoughts are taking now. I wish he were able to relay them to us but he seems to be facing out the other way now.

Love, Becky

James Anthony Koller.
Father to many,
Husband to many,
Friend to so many.
With answers to the questions.
Organizer to the unorganized,
Keeper of the archives,
Legacy Leaver.
Artist, such an artist.

Jim, I saw you today. I saw you in my two Koller sons, Emery James &
Wyatt Anthony Wilfred, bearers of your name.  I saw you while I filled
our water at the spring, carried the wood in and watched the chimney
smoke fly. You are in it all.  Your journey continues. Love, Becky.

shared by Bionieri

mandiamo energie e pensieri positivi di guarigione a questo poeta che venerdì è stato ricoverato per un infarto: forza James!

from Livio

Dear Jim this is my portrait of you

Livio ( from Selva Malvezzi-Italy)

from Gary Lawless

I don’t know what my life would be without Koller. I don’t know who I would be without Koller. In 1971 I was a poetry crazy college kid in Waterville, Maine. I came across a copy of Coyote’s Journal #9 and discovered a whole new world of poets – Koller, Beltrametti, Lew Welch, Paul Blackburn, Drummond Hadley, Keith Wilson... I got so excited that I wrote the editor, James Koller, a fan letter c/o Bookpeople in Berkeley, Calif. A few weeks later a reply came, from Wayne, Maine. Koller was only 30 minutes away, and invited me to come visit. I managed to overload myself with painkillers and anti seizure meds and drove off the road on my way there. Koller arrived, pony tail and earring, with a big dog (Thomas) in a power wagon, and pulled me out with a chain. We spent an afternoon talking about poetry and when I left he gave me a copy of On Bear’s Head, by Phillip Whalen. A few months later he came to Colby College to read his poems, and I had never heard poems read that way.
A couple of years later I was hitchhiking back to Maine after living at Gary Snyder’s for a few months. Koller was sending me postcards trying to find me, to tell me that if I could get back to Maine I could have a bookstore job working with him. In late fall of 1973 we opened Bookland of Lewiston (On opening day there was a full wall display of every Black Sparrow Press title in print –) Over forty years later and I’m still working in a bookstore.
Koller turned me on to poets, to poems, to bookstore work. He encouraged me to start a little press, Blackberry, and our first titles reflected his interest – chapbooks by Franco Beltrametti, Bill Deemer, Bobby Byrd, John Brandi, Barry Gifford, Steve Sanfield, Ted Enslin, Koller. He was a mentor, a guide, a friend and ally. We have shared a lot. It has been a long, rich trip. I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to say thank you. I want to say I love you, Koller.
your friend,

with love, The Muse (via Drummond Hadley)

when he gets to drinkin
and he takes his glasses off
and he sways back and forth
from side to side
from shore to shore
from one leg back and forth
to another
and he looks at things and women
and he rubs his hands together
with love
The Muse  (via Drummond Hadley)
and now, yes, please, watch out for Jim Koller

3 wolves love Nathalie Paulino

from Carmen Cita Zanetta

un abbraccio forte forte,  tanto affetto per Jim e per tutti voi che gli siete vicino  da miguel mimi e cita

03 December 2014

Love, Susan and Bob

from Simon Pettet

Dear wise laconic outlaw straight-talking poet and friend and hero and brother, in rural Maine, in NYC (rarely but occasionally), in Riva (I hear Franco's pronunciation, "Jeem"), in Milano, in Bologna, in 'bio-regional" Italy, in my history, in my dreams (footsteps of the coyote), on the pages, with laughter, with a bottle of whiskey, sincere and no bullshit - hey Jim, sending love out to you,
sending azure blue skies and passing clouds, midnight black night and stars, wood smoke and children and music - on your journey 
- Simon P  

from Giona Beltrametti

2 Poems by Franco Beltrametti

(plenty of light & ventilation is
important) (run, sweat, day-
dream) (do not think) (very important)
(Theodora baby blue eyes) very, very
important) (consider clouds, water, woods,
wolves, words, BOOKLAND is a neon blue
sign) (Smith Corona, your typewriter)
(from the A-frame pitch window I see
I see I see) (where are we)

19/III/ 78 Georgetown Island
for Joanne Kyger & James Koller


My demons
I see coming out
even from where
I thought them exorcised
they say they’re feeling well
we’re getting to be friends.

for James Koller


I think Franco would say "let's take a walk in the garden and take a look at Monte Generoso, drink good grappa together then put paper to draw and write on the ground and create some art then grampa John will come around and make some polenta in the fireplace, of course there will be some bottles of Barbera and gorgonzola cheese to go with the polenta."


from Mike Luster

As the crow flies, I'm 3 hours and 33 minutes due east of you here in southern Missouri. I'm not a poet but a folklorist who reads poetry. I love your work and the many trails you've blazed for me. Those trails have taken me to Maine and Vermont, to New Mexico and California, to Italy and elsewhere. They've delivered great friendship and new insight into my own life and work.

I wish the very best for you and your loved ones.

PROTECTION from Rita Degli Esposti


from Laurie Burhoe

an owl in the day lit woods
on puffed out wings
slowly silently slipping
past my peripheral vision
it hunts during the day
there is not enough food this winter

a glimpse of the vulnerable

an owl sits beneath his ribs
moving through him silently
keeping a vigil
urging him on
and he keeps his bargain
laying still

To Jim
Love Laurie

from Eero Ruuttila

The coyote photo in the first posting is Eero's - this is his response when the family asked if it was ok to use it.

I'm honored to be able to contribute to Jim's blog... Jim's a very important mentor/friend to me... We rarely corresponded but over the years crossed paths at many odd junctures. I set up 3 readings for Jim spanning nearly 40 years... Jim solo... Jim, Harry Hoogstraten & Franco Beltrametti... Jim & Stefan Hyner...

I remember he let me stay at his house when he was living w/Peggy Swift & I was pretty crazy... seeing too many "spirits"... wolves & red tail hawks & reindeer & such & no judgement from Jim... Just calm acceptance... those visions don't come often anymore... although I did see one a month or so ago w/coyotes running across the crest of a hill... there were a lot of them... they were all running at a comfortable pace... who's to say?? Forty?Sixty?

Anyway, all healing thoughts directed your way as family provides love and calm & and steady focus to lift spirit where it must go... hopefully physical pain does not encroach... my thoughts are with all of you.

from Stefan Hyner - Jetzt erst recht

                                       Photo/ Hamburg, Germany 2001 by Michael Kellner


A soft wind blows down
from the north, peach blossoms hang
over the wall only blue sky
where I lay and watch
the river go by

A poet’s life has some hard times
until we will meet again, somewhere
and get drunk    sing our sorrows away
and from our cups
a thousand poems will fall


from Gulf of Maine Books

In October of 2014 Planet Drum Foundation published a special “Bioregional Poetry” issue of their Pulse newsletter, edited by Gary Lawless. Jim had several new poems in the issue, including these:

No use listening to those wise men, he said,
until you get out of the woods.
They don’t know anything about the woods.


The way looks straight & simple

You don’t understand.

from Leslie Burhoe

Sending love over the spaces and the memories. Thank you for the wonderful children, all of them, who are now amazing adults. I am wishing you a peaceful journey Jim.

from Peg Swift

no words

caro Jim , we 've never needed many words to share what we've been sharing in a lifetime
Sharing this hard path with you, now, words are useless, heart is heavy, love speaks its silent language and waits


from Albuquerque

from Albuquerque, thinking of Jim and his family and his network of friends --
JB Bryan and I were lucky in the mid-oughts to have a slew of visits from Jim and Stefan, around the publication of Snows Gone By (oú sont les neiges d'antan). Sometimes Jim alone would stop in and stay a night on his way to visit one of his kids – on to Arizona and CA. We realized his dedication to them from these frequent trips. What ease and kinship feelings amongst us - all the conversations - some are so good that they are vivid companions to this day. In March of 2005, we traveled around the state together a bit, too, for readings - got caught in blinding snow driving from El Rito one night over the road back to Ojo Caliente. That same trip, Jim and Stefan read for the very first Duende Poetry Reading at Anasazi Fields Winery in Placitas - poetry series that JB and I, along with Jim Fish, Larry Goodell and Gary Brower, began.
Thanks for making the blog and for your updates, Bert and Jed and all. JB had forwarded the first to me while still in Des Moines Iowa tending his mom who has ALS pretty bad. After he arrived back home to Burque early Monday morning, we were talking upstairs in his office and there appeared our seldom seen Roadrunner on the deck railing inches from the window. Even with our dog Maggie, pesterer of birds, lying also on the deck 5 feet away, this Roadrunner was preening, moving its feathers on its head, coming closer to the window, probably looking at its reflection, stayed there doing that for a long spell. I said to JB, "That's Jim Koller."
Well, we do that - in our house, we identify between the living beings  - like the pink mum and my aunt Betty, like the spiders and my mom, like a particular star and my grandma. And that's something we would enjoy sharing with our good friend Jim. He appreciated the connections - through species, through centuries and decades - brought them out along with his thinking - brought them out with words out loud and with words written down. We are so lucky to have his way of connecting. 
I write this to join in the cyber circle of telling stories - to join in with all of you to honor someone very special at the most particularly hard time for him and his loved ones. Looking forward to your stories. And sending love and solidarity - solidarnösc!
Here is a photo from June, 2006 when CB our daughter was 12 - this same place hasn't seen this amount of moisture since that time 8 years ago. Stefan Hyner, JB Bryan, CB Bryan, Jim Koller.

for Jim from Giuseppe Moretti

Hi Jim,
Attached is the cover of the new booklet of yours, hot from the press from Italy. Your copies are on their way to Flagstaff, AZ, where you were bound to. Hope you’ll overthrow the unexpected who hit you soon and be on the road again.

from Al Miller

I send warm wishes and hope for a good recovery to the old poet and seldom seen friend, Jim.  Thank you so much for the blog.

Al Miller

from Richards Burhoe


02 December 2014

with love Dianella Bardelli

Dear friends, my name is Dianella Bardelli, I live in Italy in a little village near Bologna; I have met Jim here in our home for a reading of his poems;  I send you some photo of Jim in Italy some years ago, when he came at Bologna and Selva Malvezzi that it is a village where me and my husband live; the reading happened in our garden; I send you also some assayes of mine abou Jim; they are in one of my blog, but are in italian language:

I hope so much that Jim is better soon
with love
Dianella Bardelli

Some background...

                                                                                             photo by Eero Ruuttila

Some background for Jim’s extended community from the family-
   Jim made a decision earlier this fall to accept offers from Jed and Deirdre to spend part of this winter with each of them and their families in Arizona and Illinois, respectively. This decision took some time to come to, as the limitations of his Parkinson’s on his physical being and abilities became increasingly apparent to us all. Jim was to spend December and January in Flagstaff with Jed and family, traveling from there to visit friends, Maggie, and his sister Joan in California, and then on to Oregon to see more friends there. He was to head east in February, spending late winter at Deirdre and Denny's in Kewanee, returning to Georgetown with the warmer weather in spring. His hope was to leave for Europe in May…
  Jim, Bert, and Jed shut down the house on Webber Rd. for the winter, celebrated Jed’s birthday dinner in Whitefield with Bert and family, with a Maine farewell dinner the next night at Ida’s with her family and Bert’s (with 5 of Jim's 9 grandchildren present!), and the following morning packed a few things into the Ford and headed west for Illinois. Thanksgiving was at Deirdre’s in Illinois, with granddaughters’ families and Jim’s great-grandson Corbin, with fresh news of another great-grandchild on the way. Thanksgiving evening Jim and Deirdre spent discussing the publication of Jim’s poems from 2002 to present, in a work to be called “A River I Couldn’t Find”.
   On November 28th, Jim and Jed left Deirdre’s late morning, bound for Flagstaff. Clearing blue skies and warmer temperatures as we moved south into Missouri. Jim spoke that day at length about options for the coming years, how to manage his literary estate, and recalling the lives and deaths of his parents and aunts and uncles. He spoke of Jesse James, and his belief that some of his ideas about life and the societal structure we live within might have been comparable to those of the outlaw.  
   At about 6:30 we stopped in Joplin at the Motel 6. Jim checked in, and shortly after entering room 124 sat down, became unresponsive, and collapsed. Paramedics arrived a few minutes later.


29 November 2014

I'm writing you all to let you know that Jim had a stroke last night in Joplin, Missouri. He was also diagnosed with pneumonia. He is currently unable to communicate & the prognosis is not great, but his vitals are fine for the time being. If he does pull through he may need full time care. He is with Jed & Deirdre & Maggie. Please send him your love. And be in touch if you have questions, otherwise we will be in touch as thing progress.
Love, Bert


2 December 2014

Dear all,

   Thank you for your thoughts and prayers and concern.

   Jim remains unconscious. MRI imagery shows the severity of the damage to his brain from the stroke. Our observations are that Jim has almost no ability to move the right side of his body & has demonstrated almost no responsiveness. Doctors warn us that his ability to both speak & to process language is likely substantially impaired, and that he may have problems with vision & the ability to protect his airway. Pneumonia and his existing Parkinson's disease complicate the picture.
  Jim's children and Maggie are either here or closely involved. He's well cared for and surrounded by love and kind attention. We're grateful in some way to find ourselves centrally located in the country, between Maine and California, Illinois and Arizona, and to have been on the road in a place with competent, compassionate, and kind medical professionals readily available.

  With love from Joplin, Missouri