Jim Pinkerton was my best friend. We met at Auburn in 1965. Jim’s wife and my future bride had sat next to each other in Freshman Orientation the previous year and had become friends. Finding much in common, they decided that we should get together socially. I don’t remember which couple hosted that first evening, but I found that Jim and I had a lot in common too. We were both in serious relationships, interested in cars, and living on a shoestring budget. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about.
When Jim’s marriage broke up, he was devastated. We spent many evenings talking things out and looking for a way forward for Jim. He gradually overcame his depression and started dating again.
That summer Jim’s dad rebuilt a Jaguar XKE (the number one sexiest car on the road at that time) and gave it to Jim to take back to school that Fall. He and I spent much of our very limited spare time fine tuning and playing with the Jag. It was the first car that I ever piloted over 140 miles per hour. Looking back on that time, I’m amazed that we both survived and managed to stay out of jail.
Jim started seriously dating a girl that my wife and I really didn’t like very much, but we made every effort to be friends with. After all, if Jim loved her who were we to say no about her. Their relationship grew, and Jim proposed. I was Best Man at the wedding. As Jim and I walked toward the Sanctuary, I opened an exit door from the church and pointed to my wife sitting in our car at the curb, engine idling, and offered Jim an escape route. He said no, that he should go ahead with his “obligation”. They went through a messy divorce a couple of years later.
I graduated that Spring and moved away from Auburn. Jim still had a year to go (Vet School is a five-year curriculum), but we stayed in touch and visited when we could. We lived in San Antonio, Texas, and Memphis was only a little bit out of the way on our annual visit to family in Birmingham, so we got together most years for a few days at least.
When we moved out of the USA in 1980, we stayed in touch by phone and voice tape. Not as good as in person visits, but better than writing letters.
In 1989 I took early retirement and the wife and I, along with our cats, went sailing. Most of the places we sailed to were third world countries with very limited, if any, veterinary facilities. Jim was our go-to veterinarian, and a very good one too.
On one of our rare trips back to the States we visited Jim in Memphis. One of our beloved kitties, Golda (yes, she was named after Golda Meir) was not doing well. We had been told she was in terminal kidney failure and would probably not last more than a few months. Jim looked her over and said that she had a thyroid problem, not kidney failure. He knew of a place that treated feline thyroid disease with radiation. Golda lived for ten more years after her treatment.
In recent years we have tried to get together in person as often as we could. Jim came to visit us on our boat a couple of times and we went to see him on our visits to the States. With the advent of Covid, travel became more difficult, but we stayed in touch via Zoom (computer video meetings).
During the few remissions in the pandemic, Jim visited us. We had already started making plans for a springtime trip when he passed. Speaking both for my wife Treba, and myself we’ll both miss Jim terribly.
Wayne and Treba Thompson