Charles Burchfield, Journals, July 16, 2018

Jim was looking better and seemed in better spirits than I had any reason to hope. But his activities have become pretty well limited to almost nothing—

It is not easy to see him so. His life has been one of service to others; it might be said he never had a life of his own, but probably in serving others, that was his real life—Now he has been reduced almost to helplessness—But, he was philosophical about it—“I’m luckier than a lot of people—I can still do a few things, and I have someone to take care of me” —His chief diversion is reading (he reads until 3:00 a.m. —then goes to bed, and gets up at 10:30) —and listening to the radio—baseball is still a passion with him (the Indians his idol, and fortunately he gets just as mad when they lose, as he did as a young man).

He gave me a baseball which I had given to Mother at Christmas many years ago (it was our custom to give jokes as presents as well as the real ones) —On the ball I had inscribed “Is this the ball on which the umpire made the ‘rotten’ decision” —We teased her about it for years afterward.)

Jim also recalled something I had forgotten—and that was that we called cold pressed beef “baseball meat” —Because games were played Saturday afternoon, and Joe & France, who clerked in stores, had to work Saturday night, supper had to consist of something that could be prepared in a hurry—pressed beef was the ideal solution for such a meal.

As with Joe, I came away from Jim feeling that compared to them, as a human being, I did not rate with him—A grand old man, true to the last.

Charles Burchfield, July 16, 2018