Tribute to Jack, a man I never met.  
Died March, 2010

I never met Jack, talked with him, or touched him. I only heard stories about this man from my friend—his best friend. During the month before he died, I received daily reports on Jack’s progress. I listened to my friend talk about him and their adventures as teenagers, young men, and then as adults. I heard tales about voyages on a sail boat; going ashore to drink tequila and then rowing their dinghy back to the wrong boat. I learned about parties in New York, and the women he loved. I listened to dental stories, accepted a gift—a box of toothpaste given to me by his best friend, and became obsessed with taking better care of my teeth, as if Jack would be disappointed if I didn’t. My ongoing questioning about this stranger, who held the undefeated title for the most generous, kind, and humorous man from the state of Michigan, and surely from the state of Arizona, gave me the perception that I did, indeed, know and respect a man named Jack and that I loved him for his undeniable goodness to others. My only regret was that I never met him face-to-face, gave him a hug, shared a joke with him, discussed our favorite literature, or in some way was able to diminish his pain toward the end of his life. The great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as to what direction we are moving—we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, but in the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, “we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.”