Today we will attend the funeral of a great man, Jim Freeman.
In thinking about Jim, I realized that he reminds me, in many respects, of my father, though a generation separated them.
I wrote the following poem at the death of my father. I think it applies to Jim as well. (I've substituted Jim's name for my father's.)
... was an ordinary man
who did extraordinary things.
He knew, better than most,
that the praise of man is but fleeting,
and that true approbation is found in the
Service was his hallmark;
compassion his watchword.
And we are all the better for having known him.
Joy for today: having known Jim.