'I've thought a lot
about Jim Garner
in the week
gone past.
Since he passed.
I always
loved you,
Jimmy.
Hell.
If Obits
written across
a country
mean anything,
America loved
you too.
Charming,
Amusing.
Witty.
Urbane,
and yet,
you never got
too selfsome sure,
to ever
be above us.
Or forgot
the daily man.
You were
so Cool.
Cowardly Cool.
Rockford would
talk his way
out of a fight.
And watching him
on Friday Nights,
You truly were
the definition
of the way to live,
On Jacks
and Queens.
Week
After Week.
I watched you
every week.
Hell, Jim.
We all did.
And loved you.
How could I
Not think
Of Jim Garner
on this week
gone past?
My thoughts
now go to
growing up,
With tongue
in cheek,
And You,
So Cool,
So Mild
and Meek.
And I,
Dear Jim,
What Great Escapes
I had
at Woodland.
Seeing you
up on
the Screen.
What a grand
prix screen
you laid before
my late Stepdad-
And he would tell me
Watching Files
How when He
was a Lad...
How a
Riverboat's Bell
made him smile,
and He'd tell me
of Maverick.
Fare thee well.
How could I
not think
of Jim Garner
this past week?
How Sweet
It Is?
Remembering now.
Romance-
That Murphy
brought to
Sally Field?
And brought
to you
a Golden Nod?
From Hollywood?
I think
you'd rather been
back home
in Norman.
Move over, Darling.
And,
Seeking Home,
a home
you found.
And made
a near
Six Decades
love nest there.
For that alone,
while waiting
for Jim Rockford
on each
Friday night,
You'd go
into my files.
The thrill
of it all
in my young
children's hour-
My God.
Jim.
You kissed
Julie Andrews.
And not
just once!
At Sunset.
And
at Twilight.
Damned right
that I think
of Jim Garner
on this night.
The thrill
of it all
comes to this,
Cash McCall.
Your legacy's
not in a
gold Trans Am.
But almost
60 Years
worn in
a wedding band.
And in
Korea.
And called
air strikes
upon Yourself.
How many
lives were saved.
When calling
down bombs
on yourself.
And you
refused the honor-
Recognition
Twice.
In the Hour
of the Gun?
I'd say
that sealed
your Legacy.
As a Man.
The rest,
Jim,
Just were
Heartsongs.
And Rockford's Files
can now
no longer speak.
But what
can Speak
Speaks of
a Gentleman.
More than
a Movie Star.
Is that
not better
than a trunk
of Oscars
hidden in
a golden
Trans Am trunk?
I feel
such damned loss.
Thinking of
James Garner
this sad week.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem