Thoughts on James
shouldn’t have lost our friend James Monroe, not at 53, not with a heart that big and a mind so
beautiful. James was a Giving Tree and the memory of all the times we shared lends us a quiet place of
shade to rest. I think about him often these days...
What can I tell you about James that you don’t already know? I can tell you about the day we voted
together in the mid-term elections. About a week before November 6, 2018 James announced to me
that he had never voted. What?! This was a man who had enlightened, well research, wholly-
argumented opinions on just about everything, right? The biggest opine in our history together was that
NASCAR was not actually a sport. One he was fearless in voicing when we worked at yes, NASCAR.
In his opinion, drivers drove, they weren’t by definition athletes, exceptionally proficient in a form of
rigorous exercise (you can hear him, right?) He had a point, but we pointed out the many professional
outfielders, out of shape, standing around most of the game, chewing dip. We had a point. To which he
replied, “At some point, they run.” That was a typical day at NASCAR. Finding something to argue with
James as he loved being the official contrarian and took our constant razzing, because it was such great
fun to tease him, in stride. And we got to hear that laugh, that exceptional, delightful laugh. That laugh
brought us back again and again.
Let me go back a little. I met James in 2000 when we both worked for the same boss at Disney. I knew
James was a rising star immediately. I caught sight of his brilliance; he was a “shiny penny person”
…someone you just wanted to be around, someone you wanted to be your friend. We worked together
at Disney and then again at NASCAR. But it was NASCAR where the magic happened. I suppose we both
found ourselves working there for the same reason…we would have followed our boss Dick Glover to
the ends of the universe. Dick pulled together a great team, and James was his right-hand man. A deep
friendship developed among us as we traveled to races together, to NY for Champions Week and to
Daytona for the 500 every year. We were the “LA gang.” As much cachet as that afforded us, I’ll never
forget the one trip to Daytona where instead of going out and partying, much to the shock of all the
executives as they returned to the hotel after their night of carousing, to find us all gathered around the
big TV in the lobby watching Lost. That was our show. James loved that show. James dissected each
new episode every Friday morning. He had a million theories based on smart guy stuff that most of us
can only catch a tiny hold of. He had us captivated with his theories. He loved drama!
So that brings us back to 2018. How could this man who spent so many hours dissecting Lost, and
Battlestar Galactica and anything controversial have never voted? “We’re voting, James,” I told him.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning.” He, his mother Mitch and I went to our voting station in Studio City.
We stood for two hours, and it was then I first noticed the real toll his illness was taking on him and the
determination that man had. I knew he was tired, but this vote was important. We discussed all aspects
of the candidates, his pride swelled in taking part for the first time in this American life. He had a voice,
even if he didn’t know for how long and he was going to use it.
I recently read this quote:
“Everyone is so afraid of death but the real Sufis just laugh: nothing tyrannizes their hearts. What strikes
the oyster shell does not damage the pearl.” – Mevlana Rumi
James was so brave, so inspirational. I’ve heard many of his friends and family remark that James held
on to life twice as long as was expected and that he did that for us. James has always been a touchstone
of selflessness. Has there ever been a sweeter friend?
Diane Driscoll