As I walked on the beach by the Pacific Ocean on Jimmy’s 75th birthday, I contemplated how Mama may have felt about bringing her first child into the world back in 1946 after the end of World War II. The salty air beside the ocean was heavy with moisture and warmth, heralding spring back from the days of winter storms at sea. I thought about what a wonderful day of the year this was for a baby to be born. I know that I will always celebrate Jimmy’s birthday and the gifts his life brought to us all.

I recall that as a young girl in Kansas City, Mama talked to us about her trust in the Bible. I remember Mama telling me her thoughts as we sat beside the fireplace and talked about important topics. She recalled that before she decided to have her first child, she opened the Bible randomly to seek an answer to her question about bringing new life into the world. She found a passage that told her she would have a son who would be a leader among men. That son was James Nelson Gardner, and he did become a leader in so many regards, within the family and in the world at large.

Mama’s words to her children ring true in our hearts long after her passing in May of 1971. She wrote a letter to us we take to heart saying, “First, you can never know how very greatly God has favored me in giving me not one but five of the most lovely and talented children I have ever seen. I feel very humble and yet very honored that He should consider me the one worthy of being your Mother.” Talented and intelligent are words that only begin to describe Jimmy. His energetic and caring spirit carried his siblings, his wife, and children through life as no one else could.

I recall Jimmy’s expression and sincere desire that Mama could have lived to see her grandchildren and great grandchildren. On this Mother’s Day 2021, I think about the children’s musical drama production “Flight into Understanding” that Jimmy helped Mama write during the Vietnam era. In a prologue to the play, they wrote, “Peace is a major concern of us all, and yet except for those of us who have sons who may be called to fight or those whose sons are now at war, it is still something far off, unreal. More real to us is a feeling of day to day struggles. We propose that misunderstanding and distrust can be overcome, perhaps through the mind in a dream.”

Jimmy made the dream Mama dramatized in a musical children’s play become reality. His lifelong work is a testament to his desire to bring the world together in harmony and to understand the universe to the extent possible. Mama truly had a son who was a leader in the truest sense of the word, a leader in his family, his state, country, and world. He will be loved forever.

On April 10th, 2021 as Jimmy stepped into the beautiful and infinite cosmos to join his Mama and Daddy. We honor him with the comfort of his Mother’s words on this Mother’s Day. In 1971, before she passed away, Mama wrote the passage below to her five children, knowing that she had little time left with us.

“I ask only that God take care of you and that you will know He is ever near and that I, your Mother, loved you as much as is humanly possible. Love each other, help each other and remember I would kiss each of you goodnight if I were with you tonight.”

Now Jimmy is with his family in the cosmos once again. We will look to the stars with wonder and some day join the infinite cosmos with him. Until then, let us fill our senses with the wonder of being alive on this small, blue planet in the sea of an infinite universe.

As my sisters mention in their wonderful tributes, our brother Jimmy was always an amazing inspiration for all of his siblings, a person of outstanding abilities and achievements, with a very funny sense of humor.  

My sister Ruth mentions Jimmy was a young actor and singer.  In about 1956, he played the role of Michael in Peter Pan at Kansas City’s Starlight Theatre, a large outdoor summer theater featuring many Broadway musicals.  Later, he was a member of the chorus there.  We all loved watching Jimmy sing and perform at the exciting shows at Starlight in the summertime under the stars. I think that experience really inspired us younger kids to participate in plays and other performing arts. 

When I was about 6 years old, it was a great thrill for me to play one of the lost boys in my first role in the musical Oliver at Starlight at the same time that Jimmy had a speaking role and in that play. One of our favorite songs from Oliver was “Food, Glorious Food” which we would later sometimes sing at various family feasts.  My short acting career reached its height at a few years later but it was such great fun and an adventure for a kid to be in a musical at Starlight with Jimmy.  When I played "Little Jake" in Annie Get Your Gun, I remember Jimmy sent me a telegram from Yale - which I still have - in which he wrote, "Good luck to my favorite brother!"  

That’s just one example of how our brother inspired and encouraged his younger sisters and brother to seek out new adventures and opportunities, there are many others.

I’ll always feel very proud and lucky that Jimmy has been my big brother! 
Best wishes,
Johnny

Jimmy Gardner as a young actor @ Starlight Theatre in Kansas City:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/XBrH4WDWdRfc2VTs8

It’s been weeks now, since my brother died . I am not sure how the world shifted or how we left this plane of existence since his departure, but life has changed for those of us who knew him and loved him. Today is Jimmy’s birthday, and I expect to be thinking of him throughout much of the day. His life deserves so much more than I am able to share – the scope and effect of his existence and his thinking transcends my writing ability,

He was a handsome jolly baby, entering the world on May 5, 1946 . My dad told the story of the OB doctor emerging from the delivery room, with the statement “It’s a boy. That’ll be a hundred dollars.” Daddy later regretted not saving the cancelled check, a souvenir of the best $100 he ever spent.

The many photos taken of Jimmy with each member of our extended family show just how much they adored him. He was loved beyond measure. His generosity of spirit, and his magnificent career was launched in those early days. 

Remembering childhood with my siblings is a most cherished pastime, as we bring to life episodes that only we know. Sitting at the kitchen table with Jimmy one day last month , I reminded him of “fishy music” he used to play on the piano as we younger siblings “swam” and danced in the living room in our imaginary ocean – calmly when his notes were soft and gentle, frantically when the deep tones rang out the approach of sea monsters. The memory brought a smile to his face in a time when smiles were the best medicine of all. 

Jimmy would have been 75 today, 10 years older than me. That our brother spent many sweet times like this that we can all recount speaks of love. I am more lately considering the fragility of existence – and what is of enduring value. If I understand the premise in his book “Biocosm” , it is that intelligence is the force behind life here and throughout the universe. The beauty of the cosmos speaks to me of love, and good humor, which are in abundance in all my thoughts of Jimmy.
Love always ,
E

I have a favorite photo of my two brothers, taken in 1963 in the front yard of our family home in Kansas City, Missouri. Johnny is five years old, looking up at seventeen year old Jimmy. The difference in height between the two is so vast that Johnny tilts his head back with an expression of wonderment to gaze up at Jimmy, who looks look straight ahead - his face lit up with enthusiasm and confidence.


All of us four younger siblings looked up to Jimmy in the same amazed way as Johnny did, captured in that old photo. Jimmy's presence generated the same kind of awe and excitement in us as watching early manned spacecraft launches, or seeing Sputnik cross the sky. He was so competent in so many ways that I felt a bit incredulous to be his sister.


Jimmy was a child actor at Starlight Theater, a professional summer stock theater located in Kansas City's Swope Park. As a very small child myself, I remember being told by my grandmother to take a nap in the afternoon, so that we could take the bus and watch Jimmy perform at Starlight. Being of limited means, we had seats far away from the stage, but when it came time for Jimmy's scenes, our grandmother would sneak me and my siblings up to the aisle by the box seats so that we could watch our big brother on the stage.


Jimmy could have ignored his four younger siblings. He was quite a bit older than the rest of us – ranging from 6 to 12 years older. He had many activities, clubs and performances in high school that demanded a lot of attention. Instead, he often engaged us in the most exciting, imaginative activities.


We ran down hills with Jimmy at Jacob Loose park, pretending to fly, as Jimmy had flown by wire and harness, playing the role of Michael in Peter Pan at Starlight when he was much younger.


We pretended to find a new land and created a community in our backyard, complete with a newspaper edited by my older sister, Dolly. The rest of us younger ones made mud pots and worked on spear practice, coached by Jimmy. Whenever he stopped playing in order to complete homework or some other task, we felt deflated and aimless. Life was so much more interesting when Jimmy was around to lead us into the next adventure.


Jimmy had an incredible singing voice. He was a baritone and had the supporting role of the villain, Jud Fry, in the Southwest high school performance of the musical “Oklahoma!”. His voice was so moving in Jud's song “Lonely Room”, that after the last words “get me a woman to call my own” the audience was hushed for a full second – then erupted with thundering applause. I know because I was there and my own heart just about burst with emotion.


Jimmy went off to Yale University, but he didn't forget his younger siblings. He sent us Yale bulldog sweatshirts his freshman year and taught us the cry: “Bulldogs, bulldogs, bow-wow-wow! E-li-Yale!” When he enlisted in the Army after graduating from Yale, he continued to keep us up to date on things, teaching us marching and bayonet drills he learned in basic training. He stayed in touch from his station in Germany and we faithfully wrote letters back and forth. He sent our grandmother a cuckoo clock and gave our mom a beautiful coffee set for Christmas one year. He was in Germany for three full years with no visits home until he obtained emergency leave just a few months before his official discharge due to our mother's deteriorating condition from a brain tumor. Jimmy arrived after our mom's surgery and she never recovered consciousness.


It was Jimmy who took the phone call at about 4 am the morning of May 12, 1971 to be informed that our mom, Ruth Mary, aged 52, had died. Our dad was working in Oklahoma at the time. I remember that I briefly heard the phone ring and went back to sleep. It was Jimmy who watched over the house in the early morning, knowing that he had to tell the rest of us that Mama was gone. It was Jimmy who drove us out to the airport to meet our sister Dolly, who was returning from her freshman year at the University of Wisconsin, not yet knowing of the death of our mom. It was Jimmy who got himself a job as a reporter at the Kansas City Star that summer, and also found me a job in the circulation department of the newspaper, the summer after my high school graduation. We all worked together to clean out the house and have it ready for sale by the time we would return to school – Jimmy entering law school, Dolly taking Esther to live with her in Madison, WI, Johnny moving to live with our dad in Oklahoma City and me heading to Northwestern University in Evanston, IL.


When the end of the summer drew near and the time came for me leave for college, Jimmy drove me to the airport to see me off, along with Esther, Johnny, and Dolly. He urged me to shout, as I walked across the tarmac to the plane: “Good-bye, Kansas City! Hello World!” And I did, much to his delight.


Our first Christmas away from Kansas City, we all reunited at Dolly and Esther's tiny studio apartment in Madison, WI. Jimmy had inherited our mom's Dodge Coronet and drove from New Haven, CN back to Madison. I was very lonesome for my college boyfriend, whose family was in upstate New York, so Jimmy suggested that I accompany him on the drive back to New York City, where he planned to stay with friends, and he would put me on the bus to upstate New York.


I can still remember our long drive together, especially through the hills of Pennsylvania. It was my first experience of elevation change and I was amazed to see the rain change to sleet and then snow – and then back to rain, depending on elevation. Our drive went very well, except for one missed exit. I remember as we passed the exit, Jimmy exclaimed, “What are we going to do now, Ruth Louise – what are we going to do now?!” Years after, Jimmy told me that this had become a favorite funny saying in his family.


After graduating from Yale Law School, Jimmy had a number of offers from various law firms around the country. When he visited Portland, Oregon, he knew he had found home. I came out to see him in the summer of 1974 and how excited he was to see me! He was 28, just starting his law career. He lived in a little frame house and had me borrow the ID of a young woman friend who had long dark hair like mine, so that we could attend a brew pub and listen to the best live bluegrass music I can ever remember.


The next day we innocently planned an overnight backpacking trip into the Mt. Hood national forest. All was well until the next day on the trail when we lost our way and decided to take a “shortcut”, which got us up past the treeline and into snow on a ridge with a spectacular view of Mt. Hood. We inched down the other side of the ridge, with Jimmy urging me to “dig in” so that I wouldn't lose my footing in the snow. Finally we arrived at a forest service road and got a ride from a ranger back to the Dodge Coronet. Later, Jimmy sent me the book Alive about the South American soccer team whose plane crashed in the Andes and how they survived against all odds.


I share these stories because they are some treasured jewels in my memory bank. I have more, for another time, perhaps. Just know that Jimmy was my model for jumping into life with both feet and a heart full of delight for what is discoverable and possible. It's really because of Jimmy that all of his siblings eventually followed him and his beautiful wife, Lynda, out to the Pacific Northwest. Even our dad, Fred C. Gardner, the last hold-out, moved from Oklahoma to live in Washington state. Because of this family migration, we've had the great privilege of sharing many life events together, in joy and sorrow and our extended family has grown a generation of children and grandchildren.


After our mom died, I remember sitting together with Jimmy, Dolly, Esther and Johnny, and saying “we need to stick together”. And that is just what we did. We had an older brother who shone a light with so much enthusiasm, encouragement and love, that none of us ever lost our way.