歪歪漫画

It was a chance meeting nearly 20 years ago. Jim Thompson and I, along with our wives, were invited to a party. It was a wine and cheesecake affair, and any musically inclined guest was encouraged to bring an instrument for a jam session.

I decided to bring my guitar. Jim made a more dramatic entrance, filling the room with his 6-foot-5 frame and his tuba. We hit it off, musically and personally. Over the next 15 years or so, we made music together, mostly for folks at nursing homes and assisted living facilities, and occasionally at community events.

After he died last month at the age of 88, I wrote a story about his legacy , but I didn鈥檛 write about some of my own memories of Tuba Jim.

I鈥檒l do that now.

We were playing on Third Street for the Bemidji Senior Center鈥檚 annual bratwurst feed. My brother traveled from Fargo to join us. That鈥檚 also when the late Ann Daley became our 鈥済irl singer,鈥� a role she played for years to come. We sang and played for about three hours when I realized we had not taken a break.

I looked over at Jim and asked how he was doing. He pried his puffed-up lips off the mouthpiece of his horn, shook his head and somehow muttered, 鈥淚鈥檓 OK. Let鈥檚 keep going.鈥�

When I first met Jim, he lived on the north side of Lake Bemidji, where we had a few interesting ice fishing experiences. My old cell phone is likely still at the bottom of the lake after I fumbled it through a hole in the ice, much to Jim鈥檚 amusement.

He once tried to teach me how to fillet a northern pike, only to realize he was working with a left-hander who could not grasp the concept. Then there was the spring day when we had to put on waders to get out to the ice, and after a successful crappie harvest, we waded back to shore and headed to Bemidji Town and Country Club to play 18 holes.

At our nursing home gigs, I used to have some fun with Jim as I announced the next song. I鈥檇 say, 鈥淛im, let me call you sweetheart,鈥� or 鈥淛im, have I told you lately that I love you?鈥� and he would most times answer, 鈥淪top that!鈥� The audience got a kick out of that and judging by the tuba player鈥檚 grin, I think he did, too.

Once we played an evening gig in Fosston, and as we left for home I bragged to Jim about the fog lights on my new car. They really lit up the ditches, making it easier to watch for deer. He nodded in approval. Of course, you can guess what happened as we got close to home. I was able to drive the last few miles to drop Jim off at home, but the car came in second to a doe, and the result was about $7,000 in damage.

A retired eye doctor with a keen sense of humor, Jim once told me a story about a patient of Polish descent who came in for a checkup. During the exam, Jim asked the guy if he could read the bottom line on the eye chart. 鈥淪ure thing, Doc,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 even know the guy.鈥�

There are so many more memories of Tuba Jim. That chance meeting over wine and cheesecake turned into a lasting friendship.

鈥淛im, have I told you lately how I miss you?鈥�

Dennis Doeden is the former publisher of the Pioneer. You can reach him at (218) 333-9771 or ddoeden@bemidjipioneer.com .