Jimmy was our first volunteer at Serendipity Farm. He was volunteering when we were just learning about the benefits of Equine Assisted Psychotherapy. He was a natural. A born horse whisperer, Jimmy also could read the souls of the children with whom he worked, and he instinctively knew what to say, and just as importantly, what not to say. Jimmy was proud of his service to our country as a United States Marine, and when he was not wearing his trademark black cowboy hat, he sported his Marines cap. One rarely saw his bare head, and it was usually only during prayer or while showing respect to the flag of his country, or to someone whom he believed deserved the bare headed salute. I am proud to say that he was my friend. But Jimmy was pretty much everybody’s friend, if they would have him. He had strong principles instilled in him by his much beloved Granny, and reinforced with love and respect by his parents. Jimmy respected and adored them. He doted on his sister. He cherished his wife. And he still had love to share among the many children and adults he met in his widely varied activities. He was Mr. Jimmy to the tearful frightened children. He was MISTER Jimmy to the misbehaving child. He was a shoulder to cry on, two strong arms to hold you up when you thought you would never have the strength to stand again. He was the backup for many a single parent when they reached the end of the rope. Even when they did not have the strength to tie the knot to hang on to, he would tie the knot in the end of that rope for them, clasp their fingers around it and bellow “HANG ON DANGIT”. Jimmy was THE COWBOY when he announced at wrestling matches. He was often recruited to be the villain in these shows, and would grin from ear to ear while describing the intricate moves that made up the wrestling match. He was THE SINGING COWBOY at various clubs and venues, and his long term dream was to someday make his living singing. That is, until he was employed by his last employer. Also former Marines, these people valued him, saw him for what he was, and used his talents to the full. For the first time in years, he was happy in his job. He stood up for what he believed, lived what he preached, walked his talk. His fondest wish in life was that when he left this earth, he would be known for the love he was able to share. He believed completely in the admonition to “bring heaven to earth” and was convinced that it was being done through love and principles. He offended people. But usually that was because he called them on their misbehavior, and they were embarrassed. It is easier to point a finger in rage than admit a mistake. I can envision him now, charging up the hill on the back of his beloved Snickers, with Granny on Lightening by his side. Semper Fi, and Good Ride, Cowboy, Good Ride.