My friend Jim

I first met my friend Jim 25 years ago in the fall of 1997. He introduced himself while we were waiting for our respective coffees at the Good Earth Café that used to sit on the lower level of Eau Claire Market. I was there setting up for The Word on the Street Book and Magazine Fair, a volunteer gig to promote and support the local publishing community. Jim was there setting up for the annual Aids Walk, a gig that his company at the time, The Event Group, was contracted to produce. Both events happened on the last Sunday in September, and hence our coffee connection at Good Earth.

I’m not sure what caused us to keep in touch, but we did. I had just started a magazine publishing company with some other folks. Jim had just started an event management company with some other folks. Eventually we would find ourselves working together. Eventually Jim and his partners - Leslie and Dave - would produce The Word on the Street for me. When the publishing company launched the inaugural Best Restaurants issue, Jim and crew produced our “best restaurant crawl” around the city with the local media. And when we first came up with the 40 Under 40 back in 1999, we received only 19 nominations for the inaugural class. Half of that first issue ended up being filled with friends and associates, of which Jim was one, just so we could get to 40 people. (I understand Avenue gets a few more nominations now….) And Jim and The Event Group produced our inaugural event.

And so, it went for the next 16 years. During my time in the magazine business, if I ever had a new idea that could bring in revenue or increase our audience, Jim was my first call. Marketing was Jim’s thing. Building an audience was Jim’s thing. Bringing people together in the spirit of community was Jim’s thing.

When I moved to Vancouver for a couple of years to work for another publishing company, Jim was my first call whenever I’d come home to visit. This was probably when our relationship changed. It was less transactional and much more based on friendship and goodwill. Vancouver was a lonely time for my family and I, and Jim was my sounding board on trips back home.

When I decided to move the family back to Calgary for good, Jim made it his personal mission to find me a job back home. He found me two, and we created a third one together. I would not have got the chance to work at e=mc2 events and Kelly Brothers Productions without Jim’s connections. I’m sure there are literally hundreds of people in Calgary who have uttered similar words. Jim connected people and was invested in making it work. And when it did, he couldn’t have been happier.

It was shortly after we both developed the idea to create Best of Calgary, an annual celebration of our city that ran for five years before the pandemic hit, that Jim received his diagnosis: terminal cancer with a life expectancy of about a year. News like that would devastate anyone. Except Jim. While he would have obviously preferred to have been dealt a different hand, Jim would come to call his cancer diagnosis a gift. Why? Because he used it as an opportunity to do what he did best: bring people together and support them any way he could.

He didn’t want to dwell on his cancer. When he did dwell, he used the blog he created, “Gather with Jim,” to share his thoughts, learnings, and wisdom with folks going through similar challenges and with those who just enjoyed a good read.

But when he wasn’t writing, he was living. And boy did he live. He did the speaking circuit to talk about his diagnosis, he skied, he golfed, he camped, and he walked. I joked with him once that he’s the only person who could successfully brand “walking.” I say that because if you had the opportunity to go for a walk with Jim at any point in time over the last number of years, you considered yourself lucky.

Jim started walking daily shortly after his diagnosis. He wanted to stay active, but knew he was physically unable to do some of the things he used to. So, he walked. And then he started inviting people along. And those who would walk with him would talk. And Jim would listen. Jim never wanted to talk about himself or the challenges he was facing. He wanted to hear what was happening in your life. He wanted to help you solve the problems or challenges you were dealing with. Problems or challenges that were miniscule compared to what he was dealing with, but he never made you feel that way. It wasn’t long before a walk with Jim was one of the toughest reservations in town.

But Jim didn’t just walk. He starred on the stage of Dave Kelly Live at the Bella Theatre for four years. As the Ed McMahon to Dave Kelly’s Johnny Carson, the crew at the Kelly Brothers would plan every show around how to best embarrass Jim on stage. And he loved every minute of it. And as part of Best of Calgary, Jim helped Dave and I bring “horse races” back to the St. Louis Hotel, where for two years, we held imaginary horse races at the old tavern, making people laugh and raising money for various charities. And we created the League.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was an idea that Jim had shortly after his diagnosis. He pulled Dave and I together and asked if we’d organize and old school ‘60s roast with 40 of Jim’s closest friends. He wanted to do it in the fall (he was diagnosed in April) because he didn’t expect to be around much longer than that. Thirty-nine of those 40 friends showed up that night to roast Jim and each other, to laugh and drink and smoke, and, most importantly to Jim, get know each other so that future friendships could be developed after he was gone.

There was only supposed to have been one league event. There ended up being five (one being virtual). That’s because Jim’s “one year left” turned into six-and-a-half years.

I didn’t see my friend as much over the last couple of years, although we’d exchange texts whenever the mood arose. Covid blew up the event industry, among others, and I ended up switching careers and moved into the sports sector. Dave Kelly Live had its last in-person gathering a month before the pandemic hit, and while Dave, Jim, and the rest of the DKL crew tried to keep the magic going online during the first year of the pandemic it was never the same.

Dave, Jim, and I decided with all the changes in our careers, family, and life, that we needed to commit to getting together every few months. It didn’t matter if it was at a steak house, Dave’s house, or Jim’s backyard. We would eat, drink, smoke, and laugh. We laughed a lot.

Our last dinner was back at Caesar’s in early October. I was planning to send Dave and Jim a note to book one more get together before Christmas, when I got a text from Jim that he was back in the hospital and that this would be his last visit. His next stay would be in a hospice. Jim passed away today, six days after turning 59 years old.

The hole in my heart for my friend is big. The hole in this city caused by his absence will be even bigger.

I miss my friend very much.