Jimmy Charles Jones, my father J.W. Hiland, and my uncle Jim Hiland met in or around 1953. They went to school, played baseball, fished, hunted, made mischief, and grew up together in Conway. Some might say that Jim grew up much sooner than the other two, but that’s a story for another day. The point is that the Hiland family has loved and been loved by the Jones family since long before I was even a thought. We are family by choice.
There has been no time in my life in which Jimmy was not a presence. He was there when I caught my first fish, when I caught his ear on my back-cast, when I dropped a huge stringer of bream into the pond, and when I single-handedly brought home enough catfish to feed both of our families and then some. Jimmy was our neighbor for several years. A naturalist at heart, he carefully watered and nurtured the moss on the rocks on the outside of his house to get that aged look. I also remember him as typically jovial and even-tempered, taking it all in stride when my sister Kelly decided to “help him out” by cleaning all that moss off of his rocks. My sister J.J. named her cat Jimmy Charles because Dad would sit on the deck and talk to it. Then, when Jimmy came to visit, even though he wasn’t much of a cat fan, the cat would go straight to him. They say that animals have the best instincts regarding human character, and I believe it.
I have always admired and been inspired by Jimmy. He started college when he was well into his thirties, and followed his love of the outdoors into a career that allowed him to study, care for, and simply be with nature. He also learned to play guitar later in life. He became a skillful finger-picker and sang with a lovely and weathered baritone voice. His rendition of Paul Simon’s “The Boxer” is still one of my favorite versions of that song. And, I have always admired the friendship between Jimmy and my dad. They were friends for over fifty years – longer than I have been alive – and maintaining any relationship for that long requires an ample supply of love, trust, forgiveness, humility, generosity, courage, and faith. I believe that both of these men lived their lives in a way that demonstrated these qualities on a regular basis.
After my father died in 2009, I stopped by Hot Springs to visit Jimmy on my way back to Austin. I will never forget the lost look on his face – a look that inspired a song:
WORDS FOR THIS (Words and music by Matt Hiland.)
I don’t have words for this; I don’t know how this fits
With any map I have for living
I don’t have words for this; all these years of friendship
Slipping right through my grip into the ground
I don’t know whether to shake my fist at God for taking you away
Or thank God for taking away your pain
I don’t know what life’s supposed to look like at the end of each day
Without you here
I don’t have words for this; I don’t know how this fits
I don’t have words for this; there are no words
Now, I recognize that look as the same one that I must have had when my parents died, and the same one that many of us share today. It’s the look that says that, even though we all know that every life must come to an end, and even when it’s no surprise when it happens, it is still really hard to lose a loved one. My heart grieves with all of you, but my heart also rejoices that we are here together, drawn closer by the life of Jimmy Charles Jones. I don’t think Jimmy or my dad ever heard the song about to play, but I think that its message would resonate with them. And, based on the company of friends gathered here, I believe that Jimmy is a man who has fully earned the love and the celebration received today.
COMPANY OF FRIENDS (Copyright 2007. Words and music by Danny Schmidt.)
When I die, let them judge me by my company of friends
Let them know me as the footprints that I left upon the sand
Let them laugh for all the laughter
Let them cry for laughter’s end
But when I die, let them judge me by my company of friends
When I die, let them toast to all the things that I believe
Let them raise a glass to consciousness
And not spill a drop for grief
Let the bubbles rise at midnight
Let their tongues get light as thieves
And when I die, let them toast to all the things that I believe
I believe in restless hunger
I believe in red balloons
I believe in private thunder
In the end I do believe
I believe in inspiration
I believe in lightning bugs
I believe in slow creation
In the end I do believe
I believe in ink on paper
I believe in lips on ears
I believe what’s shared is savored
In the end I do believe
I believe in work on Sundays
I believe in raising barns
I believe in wasting Mondays
In the end I do believe
I believe in intuition
I believe in being wrong
I believe in contradiction
In the end I do believe
I believe in living smitten
I believe all hearts will mend
I believe our book is written
By our company of friends