REMEMBERING JAMES BURCH [5-22-24]

BEYOND WINTER: Personal Musings of An Old Man—REMEMBERING JAMES BURCH [5-22-24]

[In my schedule of remembering, Wednesday is Friends Day. I have had so many good friends. Most of them are no longer available in person, so I set aside Wednesday as Friends Day to be sure they receive proper appreciation in my memories and hopes.]

 

James Dallas Burch cut ties with our hometown when he went off to college. He was one of my best friends in high school. But after our commencement, I never saw him again. Neither did anyone else from Oakland City. Even though our class had reunions every five years. Even though classmates sought for an address for him so invitations could be sent.

We knew that he went to Purdue U. We knew that he was valedictorian of his class there, just as he had been in high school. That was all.

Until I discovered his obituary online. He died in 2020. As he apparently wanted, he was known only by the present, not from the past. His obit was my first contact with him in 67 years.

I would not have recognized him from his obit picture, above. I recognized him spiritually, though. He looks very wise.

I did not realize it then, but I was his only friend in high school. Oh, he was cordial to everyone, but he did not participate in anything in school except academics. No band, sports, newspaper, whatever. Not only did he not participate, he did not attend.

I thought we were friends because of three things: First, we sat across the aisle from each other in homeroom, and at breaks, he would listen to me talk. I didn’t realize I was the only one he “talked” to, and that it was primarily because of proximity, and that he was checking me out, since others considered me to be his academic competition.

Second, in our senior year, when even James could not resist the lure of a car, we would drive together to the Dog N Suds in Ft. Branch, where the girls were 17 miles prettier. Jim’s idea of a pickup line was, “Hey, baby, want to hear me spell antidisestablishmentarianism?” He never actually used it. We just ended up drinking root beer. 

Third, he saw me as an academic equal, almost. Not a competitor, because I was more interested in the extracurriculars, and didn’t try to compete academically, but also because he knew, without arrogance, that he had no equals.

At the end of our first semester in high school, our class sponsors read out the list of those who did not have to take final exams in particular subjects. I was smug. I knew I was on that list. So was James.

There were 3 grading periods each semester. If you got an A in every one, you didn’t have to take the final. I knew I was secure in the courses that required only words and thinking. Those like algebra, that required real study, were iffy for me. Not for James. He was exempt from every final. Every semester. He never got a grade below A in anything. Anytime.

That continued throughout high school. James was exempt from every final. I was not. As courses got harder, and I was more involved in extracurriculars, I took more and more finals.

As I got more and more involved in extra stuff, my grades got worse and worse, but everyone thought I was still smart, because James and I hung out together, and he proved that he was smart, at the end of every semester when Mr. Cato and Miss Robb, our class sponsors, read out the list of those who did not have to take finals. I was smart by association.

When we learned that the Potter & Brumfield electrical relays factory in Princeton, the county seat, 12 miles away, would hire you at 18 even if you hadn’t graduated yet, I took the entrance exam. I set the all-time record high on it, missing only one question. That is, it was the all-time high until James took the test the next week. He got them all correct, of course.

At the end of senior year, we took comprehensive exams. All day. Over everything we had studied for four years. I set the all-time record on those, too. Until James turned in his test thirty minutes later.

Even then, we were not academic rivals, because I learned that first semester, when he did not take a single final exam, that there was no competition possible. He was in a class by himself.

Was that the reason he left Oakland City and never looked back? As best I can learn, he never had any contact with anyone from our home town again. He graduated from Purdue, went to South Bend, as far away from Oakland City as you can get and still be in Indiana. He worked as an aerospace engineer until his retirement at age 75.

I started this some time ago, as a Christ In Winter column, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it fit there. In CIW, I always tried to say something that would be useful to the reader. Now that I’m just writing for myself, I realize how little I knew my friend, James. And how much I miss him.

John Robert McFarland