Guest Article

This weeks Guest had a similar problem to mine earlier this week. Computer Crash. So I have decided to share a little advice that a close, dear, not forgotten, dearly departed fiend of mine shared with me when I was fourteen. First though I want to tell you a little about the man they called coyote Jim Buttler.

Jim Buttler was a gift to the academic world, his philosophy and personal wisdom lead him to a fine teaching career and an eventual post as a english and Latin professor at UC Berkeley and later at UCLA. Jim was a wandering Free spirit. A man who came from honest means, work 2-3 jobs to put himself through college and spending most of his life in service to others. Jim was a common man like you and me, right up until colon cancer claimed him in his mid-late 80's. Jim would go off on a philosophy of the relativity of age to a young heart if you ever asked how old he was.

Jim Buttler, accepted post afforded to him as a result of his academic tenure, but with each new post, came a new set of people trying to push him towards a more posh and befitting lifestyle. His wife and children chose to follow the status quo into that lavish lifestyle, and Jim never really ajusted to Eggs Benedict, he loved his biscuits and gravy.

In the mid 70's Jim Buttler signed over his worldly belongings and with a 200.00 beat-up old van and a few paint brushes, he fell practically off the face of the earth. Jim loved art, and he like us simple folks, he started painting on over the road trucks, moving from town to town to avoid bad weather, but for the most part he called Fort Stockton Texas home. Jim and my dad met when my dad was just starting out painting, and they never lost track of each other, even when 2,000 miles separated their businesses.

Jim would show up from time to time, and that time was always in time for dinner. Jim's biggest weakness was my mom's pork steaks and he could smell them cooking 4 miles away. Jim became coyote Jim in 1982, when he was passing through Huston Texas heading home from Billoxi MS. At the time there was a story in the news of how a little coyote pup had wandered into downtown. Officials said they were going to donate the animal to a local zoo but being so young they didn't expect it to live. Jim went down and paid 800.00 to the city of Houston for the pup he later named Cinco, Cinco is the number 5 in Spanish and since he was watching channel 5 news, it fit.

Hundreds of baby bottles with the nipples chewed off, they were best friends, Jim raised a total of 6 Coyotes, even a 3 legged one also found in Houston, but Cinco was like his only child. When Cinco died, Jim nearly starved to death morning his lost pal. Jim was a friend like most search a whole life for, he would gladly give you his last can of pork and beans, or as we called it JIM FEED if you even so much as looked hungrier than him. I know in my heart that God was waiting with arms stretched wide open when my dear friend crossed over those pearly gates, and his simple message would have been come on in, welcome home, I am so proud of you.

The message jim shared that has proven true true n all aspects of my life is a simple 4 step plan to achieve success.

Jim wrote in my notebook when I was 13 and doing a school project, the 4 secrets of success.

1. Strong Mind: You must make it a habit to never stop learning.
2. Strong Body: You must be able to handle the long hours and hard work it takes to be successful.
3. True Heart: Above all, be honest with yourself. If you are not happy doing what your doing, do something else. Then apply that same level of honesty to how you deal with others and you will gain much needed respect as an individual.
4. Faith: You must believe, you can, you will, and you won't fail. You must developed a great inner passion for what you want to do and follow that passion until you have achieved your goals.

Jim, sometimes was sometimes a wealthy man, and sometimes a hobo, but no matter where the long road of life had taken him, his heart and soul made him a king among kings. Good night and gods rest kind friend.

Andy Anderson