Oh my goodness. J J Baskin, a great man and a good man, has died. Every now and then someone offers the gift of letting us witness their journey through illness, and their transition from this life to the next. Steve Hayner was one of those people. So was J J, though the tone of his public posts was different than Steve's. He was defiant and feisty, evidenced by his invoking of Friday Night Lights's signature slogan and the way he refused to dwell on medical details publicly. He fiercely kept private things private.
I didn't know J J well. I write this not as an intimate friend but as a friend on social media and a fellow Texan/Presbyterian, which is a smaller tribe than you might think. This tribe knows well that God lives at Mo-Ranch and Montreat is at most her summer home. Like many, I was a proud member of J J's Fight Club. Like many, I wore the shirt as a defiant F U to cancer.
A friend and I were texting back and forth this morning. This one hits hard. The last journal entry on J J's CaringBridge site reports that the boys are doing OK; they were currently snuggled up with their mother watching Pokemon. No one young enough to watch Pokemon should be without their father today.
For her part, my friend said she couldn't get "His Eye is on the Sparrow" out of her head.
That's just right. Just right.
I can never think about that song without remembering this rollicking bit of audio by Anne Lamott, Knocking on Heaven's Door. Take 18 minutes and listen, or at least listen to Anne's friend Renola sing it at the end. I post it in gratitude for J J and in hopes that Anne's irreverent reverence would please him.
Rest in peace, rise in glory, and Texas forever.