Thanks for letting me mow yer yard Jim, too bad we never got to have a discussion about some of the philosophy books in yer library... next time we will.

I am sure that no one who knew Jim would be surprised to know that he was an organ donor. We, as his family, are extremely fortunate that Jim was able to donate his corneas. Both of his corneas were successfully transplanted. What better part of himself should Jim leave than one that would give sight to another. I try to take a look at my life through Jim's eyes often. I will never know what he saw, he had a life full of opportunities and tragedies, but I am sure that what he saw was with wonder and wisdom. Knowing that such a part of him is still in this world, still taking in the view of another sunrise another look at the constellations, comforts me. I will always love and miss you Jim.

From my very first meeting with Jim we argued constantly about the validity of homeopathy, we even argued through Maureen before we actually met! He with dancing eyes said it was obviously BS or witchcraft at best, I was trying right up until the last moment to co-opt him into the fold. He would have been a fantastic practitioner! I still think he would have loved it. He maintained his position until the last, but generously sent me books and pointed me towards internet resources he thought would strengthen my position; he even read the occasional book I sent him. He let me treat him occasionally with those useless remedies ;-) I am now in a new very intense learning phase and wish more than anything to have one of those deep, humorous, annoying, philosophical debates with Wizard Jim. I still call upon him and am certain he listens, but as I remain in this human body, my consciousness oriented towards the relative/Newtonian dimension it’s not quite the same.

Christina

I just learned of Jim’s passing. His family is in my thoughts and prayers.

I first met Jim and we became friends, when he first came to work at the Sheridan airport. He was nearly giddy about learning to fly. I particularly remember his delight in being asked to fly copilot on a B-17 tanker when the regular copilot was unavailable.

He would engage all of the pilots on the airport with questions. Sometimes a question would arise on a topic that we were curious about, Jim would research the topic, and then we would have another discussion. I recall one conversation with Jim when he told me that he was conflicted with what direction he wanted to go professionally. At that time he was enamored with flying, but both engineering and medicine were on his mind.

Now I know how close we came to crossing paths in our lives, but we never saw each other again after I left town. As it turns out I am sure that he was the physician for my wife’s sister at the State School and I did not know it until now.

Jim, God speed on your flight West. You were one hell of a man and you are missed.

everybody that grew up with Jim quickly knew he was "special".........

............everybody that knew him knows what I mean....

everybody that grew up with Jim quickly knew he was "special".........

............everybody that knew him knows what I mean....

I remember Jim from our time overseas as a scruffy young man with hair too long for regulations who reminded me of John Lennon. He was our best medic, both in the field and at the An Tuc dispensery in An Khe. We have lived in Ogden Utah since 1971 and I trained at the U of U in SLC. I work part time at the Ed in Evanston Wyoming and I am so sorry that we missed a chance at reunion while he was in training here. Jim was a nice man, very bright and it sounds like he had a good career. I am sorry that we never got together after 1970 and we are also saddened by his passing. We remain open for any contacts to us if anyone so wishes.
Jim Arango and family

I remember Jim so well from our tour in Nam. I especially remember Jim as the "go to" on malaria smears. When Arrango and I where up in our tent trying to get a little sleep at LZ English and one of the medics would come up to report a positive smear, we,of course wouldn"t want to get up and confirm it if it was a false alarm. Unfortunately for Jim, our "MO" was to make whoever was reporting the smear to wake Jim up first to read the slide and only get us either of us up if Jim said it was positive! He was a great fellow and I'm sadenned by this more than I would have thought some 40 years later. I don"t think the Nam experience ever goes away for any of us. I"ve told my stories to my kids when they ask. They surprised me this year with a slide show of my Nam pictures.II"d sure like to know what became of some of the other guys like MacDowell (who dislocated my shoulder playing basketball but also "held my hand" in a fxhole when we were geting shelled on the Cambodian border), Lindeman, Jimmy Rapier and the rest. Feel free to contact me (anyone). This website was a great idea and a nice tribute to an unforgettable buddy. Thanks for letting me share.
.

I had the privilege and joy of knowing Jim for 22 years and being madly in love with him for the 19 years of our marriage. Many have talked or written about his kindness, his intelligence, his creativity and that somehow there is less light or it does not shine so bright with Jim being gone. I have always told people that the Jim you saw in public was the man he was in private. In my life it was Jim's integrity, his passion, his wit, his devotion to his family his commitment to making whatever he did the best it could possibly be. He did this for me and my life has been enriched by joy, my beliefs challenged by the best (you know I had my share of wins). My world expanded in ways I discover each day that he is gone.
Jim was a man to take risks. He married a woman who had recently lost her husband, been fired from her job, lost her house, had a Van whose on-board computer died over and over . He also took on the three teenage Rogers boys, never known to be quiet, softspoken or compliant with authority and a yappy little dog. Blending two families to be a family of six wasn't rock science, it was much more difficult. It had no rules and no predictable outcomes, and from time to time it just blew up in your face. But he managed it with wit, patience and a negotiating power that should be used with Iran. Every one of our six children are the fine people they are today in great part because of Jim's support, love and his ability to manage me.(i'm Irish, I have a temper, i am stubborn).
Some of my favorite memories of Jim include watching from outside the newborn nursery as he gently sang to each baby as he examined them. How he spoke with respect and listened quietly and carefully to a severely developmental disabled people when he gave them his care. Part of the wonder was that he listened and saw and felt what was wrong even when the person could not speak. I saw the rapt attention he gave to every person he had a conversation with. Jim was a teacher by just talking to you.
I know that all of us must die one day. Jim saw death whether it was in Viet Nam or his time as a doctor. He accepted that death was a part of life. But if he could have negotiated with the powers of the universe to stay I believe he would have. There was so much more to see, to learn, to teach, to celebrate and there were dragons to be slayed. I am here now without my soul mate, my partner, my touchstone and I think of the thousands of days that I will not hear his gentle voice, his hearty laugh, see the twinkle in his eye when he was about to win in anything. What I will forever miss about Jim is how he held me in his arms and I knew I was completely safe. Jim was my gift. I did not want to live even more day longer than he did. I know that he has been such a part of me that in the only way that is possible I will not live one day longer than Jim. More important than anything else he loved me and I loved him completely.
I love you Jim.

Piper,
I just heard about your father tonight. I'm so sorry for you and your family's loss. I never got to meet your dad, but in the process of you becoming my best friend in college I learned how much he meant to you. I'm here for you like always if you need to anything at all.
Love,
Kevin

I was just out watching Aaron ride his toy quad in the street and it reminded me of the time the folks came to Tucson for Halloween. There is a picture in the tribute above with Aaron as a blue Power Ranger and Jim holding the Jack-o-latern he showed Aaron how to carve.

Later that night we walked around the neighborhood trick or treating and had a great time. When we got back to my street Jim and Maureen wanted to go ahead to the house while Aaron hit the one last house down the street.

When Aaron got done getting his candy he turned around to see Jim and Maureen up the street. He started running and yelled "YOU LIARS...YOU SAID YOU WOULD WAIT....LIARS!!!!!!!"

Aaron was only three so we all laughed and laughed.

Jim loved hanging out in the back yard with our neighbors lemon and orange trees hanging overhead.

Aaron misses you Jim.

I was just out watching Aaron ride his toy quad in the street and it reminded me of the time the folks came to Tucson for Halloween. There is a picture in the tribute above with Aaron as a blue Power Ranger and Jim holding the Jack-o-latern he showed Aaron how to carve.

Later that night we walked around the neighborhood trick or treating and had a great time. When we got back to my street Jim and Maureen wanted to go ahead to the house while Aaron hit the one last house down the street.

When Aaron got done getting his candy he turned around to see Jim and Maureen up the street. He started running and yelled "YOU LIARS...YOU SAID YOU WOULD WAIT....LIARS!!!!!!!"

Aaron was only three so we all laughed and laughed.

Jim loved hanging out in the back yard with our neighbors lemon and orange trees hanging overhead.

Aaron misses you Jim.

I am stunned beyond grief. I have not seen Dr. Howell in many years. My heart goes out to his entire family. It will take some time for me to dig up some old pictures I have, but I will hurry. I'll try to write more later. Hurts too much.

At the funeral, some folks related the most enduring picture that they have of Jim; the one that they will always carry in their hearts and minds. I have one too. I’d like to tell you about it, but please bear with me, it takes a bit of a set-up. (and Maureen told me to post it which absolves me of all blame (oh, yes, it DOES! ;-).

Once upon a time, I lived in Greece, looooooong time ago... and far away... perhaps even in another life....

Consequently, wherever I am, I search out all the Greek resources, like restaurants. Central One is my Colorado favorite. So one time when Jim had innocently come down to visit his wife, we met there for dinner. Taki and the staff adopted them and they liked it, I know they did, because they kept going back even after....

Taki? He’s the manager of Central One, which makes him highly complicit in the happenings of this one particular evening. Frankly, I blame HIM for the whole debacle! ;-)

I think it was Jim’s birthday? We were celebrating something, that’s for sure. Although the Greeks would say that ANY day is a day worthy of such celebration, if you don’t believe me and are the literary type I refer you to Zorba. If you don’t believe me and you’re the partying or the travelling---or even better---the partying AND travelling type, I refer you to Mykonos in the season, or really, any Greek island will do; the whole nation has a special joie de vive uniquely their own.

Taki came over to see who the new folks were and to offer his usual one small complementary taste of ouzo. Taki talked a bit, went away... came back... insisted we taste another ouzo... visited a bit more... went away... came back... insisted we taste another ouzo... (can you tell Jim and Maureen really charmed Taki?) He kept coming back more and more frequently and the tastes of ouzo got larger and larger... the hospitality ever more insistent.

(But Jim, poor Jim, a very polite man, how could he refuse such hospitality....)

Now remember, I lived there; I KNOW about the dangers of Greek hospitality. I was doing my best to duck the most of the Ouzo. But I know I was not diligent enough by a long shot: I can’t remember my Greek, don’t tell Greece stories and certainly don’t tell sea stories anymore unless really well-primed, like with Ouzo, and there I was trotting out all my rusty Greek, my Greek stories and even my sea stories.

Integral to the story, there’s always loud music at Central One... always the ubiquitous lous Greek Restaurant Island Music, mostly Syrtaki (insistent-beat dance music).

Somehow we got to talking about the music and I allowed as how I used to do all the Island dances all night every summer.

Well, Jim---full of hospitality at this point---decides he wants to dance and I apparently look like the most likely candidate. But I know better. I’ve had waaaaaaaaay too much hospitality of my own by then, and my youthful skill is far behind me. (That and I have a huge aversion to making a complete fool of myself.)

However, Jim is not taking “no” for an answer and he’s following me around the restaurant pestering me to dance. I am holding firm. And Maureen is on HIS side! Finally when I turn around to tell him “NO” once and for all; there he is leaned up against the bar on one elbow, eyes twinkling, hands clasped before him, great big red plastic rose in his teeth sporting a HUGE grin and expectantly raised eyebrows!

That’s MY enduring picture. I will never forget. I hold it in my heart and it brings a huge grin to my own face whenever it comes to mind, even now during suffering the pain of our loss of him.

And yes, Jim survived... albeit a bit worse for wear the following day, he reported. He also tried to swear off ouzo for life, but that doesn’t work very well when you continue to frequent your own Greek restaurant where they love you and insist on showing you real Greek hospitality. (Nobody insists quite so effectively as Greeks who love you!)

Consequently, I have heard a rumor, that after many years, there was a SECOND ouzo incident but sadly---I missed it---so someone else will have to tell that one.

Christina (Danish by ancestry, American by birth, but Greek by choice!)

I love the picture of Jim and his flying machine. It comes close to capturing the essence of the man: poised and confident; always on the frontier of new dangers and adventures; pushing the limits, while remaining calm and focused; dry-witted and serious, but fun-loving and spirited; humble, but fully engaged and open to all comers; profoundly intelligent, but with a common man’s touch and instincts; enthralled by Nature and all its creatures; a scientist, a humanist, a healer of body and soul; a life-affirming, Constitution-defending patriot; a devoted friend, husband and father. Where will we find another like him?

It was a great shock to learn of the death of my beloved high school classmate, the valedictorian and president of the Sheridan High School class of 1964. I heard the news on a business trip in Southeast Asia and it was very hard to keep my attention on my work. In the middle of an interview, my mind would drift and my eyes would fill with tears. I feel a great void and a tremendous sense of lost opportunities. Jim was one of the most important mentors in my life. He gave me insights into a more fulfilling style of life. He made me feel that even those of us with far less natural abilities could make a useful contribution. He was naturally gifted, but he was also naturally generous, humble, and kind.

Only a few months ago, I received several email messages from Jim concerning his son’s plan to visit Tokyo. It was wonderful to spend a day with Lucas and to share memories of his father. I was looking forward to seeing Jim at our high school reunion this summer and finally cashing in on his promise to bring me up to date on all his activities. As usual, Jim found a way to evade such intrusions into his privacy.

Whether they grow up in a small town like Sheridan or a big city like Tokyo, teenagers always complain that they have nothing to do. Jim was never like that as a teenager. He always had many more things to do than he had time to do them. I remember many weekends cruising the town with classmates. We would inevitably drift over to the east side of town, the wrong side of the tracks, to try to lure Jim out on the town. Sometimes we succeeded, but Jim was usually too busy with one or another of his many projects. He was never doing school work at such times; he whipped out his homework in or between classes. He was doing more challenging things like overhauling the motor on the family Volkswagen, drawing cartoons, solving an advance problem in mathematics, or reading a technical scientific work.

I was deeply impressed by Jim’s close relationship with his warm and loving, Depression-era parents. Bernard was a down-to-earth handyman and grocer. Vivian was an outgoing homemaker. Bernard and Vivian treated Jim and all his friends as adults. I couldn’t help but notice what a profound effect this had on us. When at Jim’s home, we stopped acting like foolish teenagers and started acting like young adults. When raising my own children, I consciously followed the lessons learned in the house attached to Sharp’s Grocery.

After high school, we drifted apart. There were long periods where we were out of touch, but there was never a time when Jim left my mind. Pleasant thoughts of him would pop up in unexpected places. I would occasionally hear news of Jim from one of my classmates or my mother. I remember my mother being deeply concerned after a chance encounter with Jim soon after he returned from the Vietnam War (he was a combat medic). I remember how happy my father was when he learned that Jim was going to study medicine. My father, a Sheridan physician, always said that Jim would make a fabulous doctor. I wish my father were alive to read the testimonials from Jim’s patients.

Jim and I crossed paths several times at class reunions. Jim never said much, but there was always a feeling that nothing much needed to be said. Jim’s many friends share a common bond. He was the gravitational source that held us all together. With this website, Jim can continue mentoring and uniting (in the limit, forever). That is a very comforting thought.