Biographical Non-Fiction posted February 10, 2022 |
Remembering A Mentor
A Most Interesting Man
by Terry Broxson
When James C. McCormick, Jim to everyone, died in February of 1995, the Dallas Morning News reported it with a picture of his "Celebration of Life" service on the front page. The paper said a thousand people attended.
I was there; he was a friend of mine. He was a mentor in business and life.
When he died, he was a very wealthy man. Oh, I don't mean just in money. A thousand people don't show up just because you have financial wealth. People came to remember a friend, a family member, a man of faith, and a leader in his community. They came because it was an honor to know him.
I will not tell you everything about Jim. It would take a book. But I do want to share a few things, and I believe when I am through, you will also think he was a most interesting man.
His story is a "Long, complicated struggle to do the right thing." Those are his words, not mine. He was born to a poor family on the wrong side of the tracks of a small town south of Dallas.
At nineteen, he joined the fight in WWII as a crew member of a B-17 bomber. He met an older fellow who was also training as a crew member. This older fellow, Clark Gable, would become a lifelong friend.
Jim's B-17 was shot down over Germany and he spent time in a POW camp until the war ended. He never talked about it.
After the war: he was consumed by two important things. His love for a girl named Barbara and getting an education. Barabra accepted his marriage proposal, and the GI Bill gave him the means for an education. He enrolled at SMU in Dallas. He still did odd jobs, and Barbara worked in order to meet all the expenses. They lived in student housing. Jim said it was a converted chicken coop. He graduated with honors. It took him twenty-three months to earn two degrees.
He got a job that would lead to a lifelong career as a financial analyst in investment banking. He was very good at his work.
But before his career would blossom, tragedy struck. Jim contracted polio. He was hospitalized and woke in an iron lung. His words, "The life I had built for myself was shattered. My strong body was completely paralyzed; I was helpless."
More of Jim's words, "Life in an iron lung is complete and absolute paralysis, pain and claustrophobic panic. I could only see the ceiling."
At this point, Jim turned to God and asked Him if he could just take the pain away; he would never ask for another thing. The pain went away.
Jim said, "God, I am grateful the pain went away, but if you could see your way to let me get out of this iron lung for an hour and sit in a chair, I will never ask for another thing." Jim sat in the chair for an hour. The time increased, and eventually, Jim was out of the iron lung for good.
Jim asked God if he could just sit in a wheelchair and let someone push him outside; he would never ask for another thing. Except he did. He wanted to push the wheelchair with his own hands, and he did.
But Jim went back to God one more time, "God, if you could just let me walk again, I promise I will never ask for another thing." With the help of two canes, Jim walked for forty years.
Jim and Barbara raised five kids. Jim became a very respected and sought out financial analyst.
In February 1995, a National Random Acts of Kindness Week was created. Jim was asked to be the Chairman of the Dallas event. He gladly accepted.
The Dallas Acts Kind Week had many events at churches, synagogues, mosques, and schools. Jim recruited actor Dennis Weaver and civil rights leader Martin Luther King III to help with the speaking engagements. Rosa Parks, a civil rights icon, came for a visit to lend support. Religious leaders throughout the city led events encouraging people to do random acts of kindness.
The week was a lot of work. Jim was pleased with the efforts; he hoped it would lead to future events. Eight days later, Jim died. He was seventy.
Some thought maybe the stress of the weeks' worth of activity was too much for Jim. I don't think so. I believe God said, "Jim, if you do this for me, I will never ask you for another thing." I am guessing Jim just smiled.
Story of the Month contest entry
When James C. McCormick, Jim to everyone, died in February of 1995, the Dallas Morning News reported it with a picture of his "Celebration of Life" service on the front page. The paper said a thousand people attended.
I was there; he was a friend of mine. He was a mentor in business and life.
When he died, he was a very wealthy man. Oh, I don't mean just in money. A thousand people don't show up just because you have financial wealth. People came to remember a friend, a family member, a man of faith, and a leader in his community. They came because it was an honor to know him.
I will not tell you everything about Jim. It would take a book. But I do want to share a few things, and I believe when I am through, you will also think he was a most interesting man.
His story is a "Long, complicated struggle to do the right thing." Those are his words, not mine. He was born to a poor family on the wrong side of the tracks of a small town south of Dallas.
At nineteen, he joined the fight in WWII as a crew member of a B-17 bomber. He met an older fellow who was also training as a crew member. This older fellow, Clark Gable, would become a lifelong friend.
Jim's B-17 was shot down over Germany and he spent time in a POW camp until the war ended. He never talked about it.
After the war: he was consumed by two important things. His love for a girl named Barbara and getting an education. Barabra accepted his marriage proposal, and the GI Bill gave him the means for an education. He enrolled at SMU in Dallas. He still did odd jobs, and Barbara worked in order to meet all the expenses. They lived in student housing. Jim said it was a converted chicken coop. He graduated with honors. It took him twenty-three months to earn two degrees.
He got a job that would lead to a lifelong career as a financial analyst in investment banking. He was very good at his work.
But before his career would blossom, tragedy struck. Jim contracted polio. He was hospitalized and woke in an iron lung. His words, "The life I had built for myself was shattered. My strong body was completely paralyzed; I was helpless."
More of Jim's words, "Life in an iron lung is complete and absolute paralysis, pain and claustrophobic panic. I could only see the ceiling."
At this point, Jim turned to God and asked Him if he could just take the pain away; he would never ask for another thing. The pain went away.
Jim said, "God, I am grateful the pain went away, but if you could see your way to let me get out of this iron lung for an hour and sit in a chair, I will never ask for another thing." Jim sat in the chair for an hour. The time increased, and eventually, Jim was out of the iron lung for good.
Jim asked God if he could just sit in a wheelchair and let someone push him outside; he would never ask for another thing. Except he did. He wanted to push the wheelchair with his own hands, and he did.
But Jim went back to God one more time, "God, if you could just let me walk again, I promise I will never ask for another thing." With the help of two canes, Jim walked for forty years.
Jim and Barbara raised five kids. Jim became a very respected and sought out financial analyst.
In February 1995, a National Random Acts of Kindness Week was created. Jim was asked to be the Chairman of the Dallas event. He gladly accepted.
The Dallas Acts Kind Week had many events at churches, synagogues, mosques, and schools. Jim recruited actor Dennis Weaver and civil rights leader Martin Luther King III to help with the speaking engagements. Rosa Parks, a civil rights icon, came for a visit to lend support. Religious leaders throughout the city led events encouraging people to do random acts of kindness.
The week was a lot of work. Jim was pleased with the efforts; he hoped it would lead to future events. Eight days later, Jim died. He was seventy.
Some thought maybe the stress of the weeks' worth of activity was too much for Jim. I don't think so. I believe God said, "Jim, if you do this for me, I will never ask you for another thing." I am guessing Jim just smiled.
I was there; he was a friend of mine. He was a mentor in business and life.
When he died, he was a very wealthy man. Oh, I don't mean just in money. A thousand people don't show up just because you have financial wealth. People came to remember a friend, a family member, a man of faith, and a leader in his community. They came because it was an honor to know him.
I will not tell you everything about Jim. It would take a book. But I do want to share a few things, and I believe when I am through, you will also think he was a most interesting man.
His story is a "Long, complicated struggle to do the right thing." Those are his words, not mine. He was born to a poor family on the wrong side of the tracks of a small town south of Dallas.
At nineteen, he joined the fight in WWII as a crew member of a B-17 bomber. He met an older fellow who was also training as a crew member. This older fellow, Clark Gable, would become a lifelong friend.
Jim's B-17 was shot down over Germany and he spent time in a POW camp until the war ended. He never talked about it.
After the war: he was consumed by two important things. His love for a girl named Barbara and getting an education. Barabra accepted his marriage proposal, and the GI Bill gave him the means for an education. He enrolled at SMU in Dallas. He still did odd jobs, and Barbara worked in order to meet all the expenses. They lived in student housing. Jim said it was a converted chicken coop. He graduated with honors. It took him twenty-three months to earn two degrees.
He got a job that would lead to a lifelong career as a financial analyst in investment banking. He was very good at his work.
But before his career would blossom, tragedy struck. Jim contracted polio. He was hospitalized and woke in an iron lung. His words, "The life I had built for myself was shattered. My strong body was completely paralyzed; I was helpless."
More of Jim's words, "Life in an iron lung is complete and absolute paralysis, pain and claustrophobic panic. I could only see the ceiling."
At this point, Jim turned to God and asked Him if he could just take the pain away; he would never ask for another thing. The pain went away.
Jim said, "God, I am grateful the pain went away, but if you could see your way to let me get out of this iron lung for an hour and sit in a chair, I will never ask for another thing." Jim sat in the chair for an hour. The time increased, and eventually, Jim was out of the iron lung for good.
Jim asked God if he could just sit in a wheelchair and let someone push him outside; he would never ask for another thing. Except he did. He wanted to push the wheelchair with his own hands, and he did.
But Jim went back to God one more time, "God, if you could just let me walk again, I promise I will never ask for another thing." With the help of two canes, Jim walked for forty years.
Jim and Barbara raised five kids. Jim became a very respected and sought out financial analyst.
In February 1995, a National Random Acts of Kindness Week was created. Jim was asked to be the Chairman of the Dallas event. He gladly accepted.
The Dallas Acts Kind Week had many events at churches, synagogues, mosques, and schools. Jim recruited actor Dennis Weaver and civil rights leader Martin Luther King III to help with the speaking engagements. Rosa Parks, a civil rights icon, came for a visit to lend support. Religious leaders throughout the city led events encouraging people to do random acts of kindness.
The week was a lot of work. Jim was pleased with the efforts; he hoped it would lead to future events. Eight days later, Jim died. He was seventy.
Some thought maybe the stress of the weeks' worth of activity was too much for Jim. I don't think so. I believe God said, "Jim, if you do this for me, I will never ask you for another thing." I am guessing Jim just smiled.
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