In The Zone

Sydney pitching.

Remembering Jim Stodel

This is one of my Dad's Memorials written by my Mom (Blakely Pallock) three years ago. Happy Fathers Day Dad!

Jim Stodel died Tuesday morning, December 13, 2005, either at Andee's or shortly after being taken by paramedics to Emergency. I choose to think he breathed his last in his sleep on the sofa at Andee's. These are my memories of him.

I have known Jim since I was 16 years old. When I close my eyes, that is how I always see him -- as a slender, impish teenager with great big dimples and a love of rock n roll. We met in a high school drama class and were close friends for 41 years. For 7 of those years we were married. People have told us - many times - that it is unusual, almost weird, for us to have stayed so close after our divorce. Maybe so, but it seemed natural for us. You see, I think we were bonded together because we shared so many early moments that shaped our lives and affected who we would become as adults.

We were both only children who grew up within 5 miles of each other. We shared a love of theatre and film and music and an optimistic spirit. I was his friend when his mother died. He convinced me to go to UCLA instead of UC Santa Cruz because he didnt want us to be separated during college. I convinced him to switch from his Math major to Television when he transferred to UCLA, and it was I who urged him -- well, practically forced him -- to apply for work at the UCLA Media Center when he graduated. He was close to my parents -- went camping with us in the summer and even lived with them for awhile when I was living on campus. He wrote me funny, personalized lyrics to Broadway songs and began what later became one of his trademarks -- he put together elaborate audio tapes for me of songs and sayings and silly recordings that would be waiting for me when I returned home. He introduced me to the Davison family, and it was through them we met Mark. So many moments that shaped our lives.

Jim and I were married in 1969. We were 21 and still in college. We were poor but surrounded by friends, many of whom were close to him his entire life. We were season subscribers to theatre at the Los Angeles Music Center, and he began to collect an alarming number of records even though we couldn't afford either hobby. We discovered we had a passion for travel, and we couldn't afford that either, so we took long driving trips together and short vacations to Lake Tahoe and San Diego with friends. We began our careers together at UCLA.

For five years we played. In 1974 we had an amazingly beautiful baby girl, Andee, who we named for his dad, Andrew, and who looked just like Jim. And then we hit a rough two years that split us apart. But even during our divorce we remained close, first for the sake of our daughter and later for ourselves. Even after I married Mark and our son, Jay, was born, Jim remained a member of our little family, spending birthdays and Thanksgivings and Christmases with us. We never had a formal visitation agreement. He took Andee whenever he wanted and even occasionally included Jay in their outings because he said he didn't want Jay to feel left out. He was fun to be with. He teased us all without mercy. We lived separate, very different lives, but together we celebrated milestones and graduations and eventually mourned the illnesses and deaths of our parents.

Five years ago, Mark and Jim both walked Andee down the aisle and the three of us sat together in the front pew, Mark and Jim with me in the middle, holding hands and passing a Kleenex while Craig and Andee were married. At the reception, Jim changed from tux to Hawaiian shirt and displayed his goofy sense of humor -- he cut in to Andee and Mark's father/daughter dance to dance with Mark! It's a great picture, to see those two Dads dancing a slow dance together with Andee off to the side, dissolved in laughter watching them. He wasn't perfect. Who is? He could be moody and a hard-core procrastinator. It was hard to have a serious conversation with him, especially about faith and eternity and how important God's presence is in my life. But he was always funny and creative and generous. I guess we did have an unusual relationship for a divorced couple. And I thank God that Mark understood the depth and importance of our friendship and not only encouraged but insisted on Jim's participation in our lives. When our granddaughter Sydney was born, we were all three overjoyed. And when Jim got sick and we knew what lay ahead, Mark was as devastated as anyone. How blessed am I to have been loved by two such men!

In July of 2005, Jim and I stood alone together in Neonatal ICU looking down at our newborn grandson, Brady James. Jim said Brady looked just like Andee when she was born. He was never one for being sentimental, but in that moment he looked at me with a clear awareness of all we had been through together.

Two months later I spent the afternoon with him watching a DVD he wanted me to see of the musical The Bandwagon. He became animated for the first time in a long time, telling me insider stories about the filming of the movie. We reminisced that we had first seen that movie together as students at a film class at UCLA. He told me that afternoon that he would stop the cancer treatments when they got to be too much. We were together many more times after that -- but there was a sweet finality to that day. As I was driving home I thought how much it seemed that we were coming close to completing the full circle of our lives together.

All of us of course will face death; our days are numbered and only God knows how many we have. That's why it is so important to seek Him out now, while we can, so we can enjoy the fullness He brings to life and the help He offers when life gets tough. Jim wasn't a fighter by nature, but in this cancer battle he fought valiantly to have as many good days as possible. That fight allowed Andee to have many more memories of the father who loved her so dearly. It was a gift he gave to us all.

Two additional thoughts --

First -- The most comfort we can have at the death of one we love is to know he is safe in heaven at the throne of the living God. Peter says Jim once told him he believed in Christ. We never knew for sure the state of Jim's salvation, but I take great comfort that, at the moment he was dying and I was about to leave Bible study to race to Andee's, my friend Cindy Fahy offered this prayer:

Lord, your ways are so much higher than our ways ... we know it is your will and your word that NONE should perish, but all should know everlasting life. Just as you came to the thief on the cross in his final moments, we trust you Father, to come to our brother Jim even in this moment ... that nothing is impossible with You; that you, the Good Shepherd, would leave the 99 to seek and find the one that was lost.... to pick him up in Your arms, and carry Him to safe pastures. We trust you, Good Shepherd, to lead, protect, and carry our brother ... and our precious friends who loved and and cared for him, in Your mighty and everlasting arms of love.

Second -- Thank you, Jay, for coming down for the day. It meant more to me than I can express to have you there with us. Bernie said yesterday the more Jim liked someone, the more he teased them. Jim loved you a lot.

I Hate Goodbyes

One of my best friends is moving far far away in a couple of days and it is really getting quite sad.

Jodi, this is not goodbye, but rather the beginning of our long friendship. So here are some pics from our crazy night out.