Big Fish, small pond. Some might see that as a negative thing, while others rather like being in a small pond. For one thing, it's easier to know people in a small pond. It's closer, comfortable and reassuring to know one's surroundings and the people that make up the small pond. People care about one another more in the small pond - and the caring about one another is what makes the small pond feel like a big enough ocean.
Jimmy Finley was a big fish in a small pond. Big smile. Big laugh. Big concern for others. Big stories. Big jokes. Big ears. Big voice. Big name. Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
I don't know how many bars there have been in Hudson, nor do I know how many there are now. I have no idea how many bartenders have worked in Hudson, nor how many are working there now. It would be easy to find out, but it doesn't matter. I do know there are some good ones, and I can think of at least one bad one - but none of that matters, because I know exactly how many bars I think of when I think of Hudson, and I know how many bartenders come to mind when I think of Hudson. One and one: Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
Jimmy Finley. Talk about a big fish in a small pond. That was Jimmy, and everything about him made the small pond the biggest and only ocean that mattered. Jimmy knew me before I knew him. I think Jimmy knew everybody in the small pond before they knew him. Thing is, the moment you met him, you felt like you already knew him. He had a way of making you feel that way, and that's a wonderful feeling in a small pond - or in a big ocean. Feeling like Jimmy knew you and actually gave a damn about you is an awesome feeling, and Jimmy gave that awesomeness to everyone in the small pond. Everyone. That's huge. Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
There are a lot of things that make someone a good bartender - knowledge, ability, speed, organizational/multitasking skills, certainly the gift of gab - which Jimmy had in spades, throw in some other incidentals like good looks, sharp dressed, creative, pick something...and you can teach some of these things, learn some of them...perhaps most of them, but what you can't teach or learn, is how to make people want to sit in front of you at a bar before you even do a flippin' thing. You can't teach someone how to make people want to be around you and stay there. Call it magnetism - or whatever you want, but Jimmy just made people want to be around him, and just by being Jimmy. There are good bartenders out in the world, who bring any number of appealing things to the party, but there are very few individuals behind a bar that have such a way of making people feel so good about where they're sitting, that whatever they're drinking or eating becomes inconsequential and what matters most is you and the guy you're sitting in front of. Jimmy was one of those bartenders. Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
Good bartenders and good piano players have something in common in that we usually don't get much opportunity to see one another work. We're always working, but we always have each other's back. It's not a competition, it's a mutual respect thing. We only sat at each other's bars a handful of times, and I can't speak for Jimmy, but whenever he sat at my bar I was honored. I always hoped that some of that magnetism, that making people want to sit in front of me for no real reason would rub off, please...just a little bit, because that was magic - and that was Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
Jimmy left the small pond that he made so big, cozy and wonderful for Hudson a couple of days ago after a year long battle with cancer. Cancer picked the wrong dude to mess with there. F you cancer, you giant C word - because you're the bully that is going to get theirs. I had lunch with Jimmy barely a month ago, and I know for a fact that you never scared him. I gave you the benefit of the doubt when Jimmy told me he would meet me for lunch at a place we both used to work - on his way home from chemotherapy treatment:
Me: Hey man, are we still on for lunch at House of MSG?
Jimmy: Yes! But I'm not allowed to drive until January - I'll have my Mom drop me off on our way home from chemo if you don't mind taking me home!
Me: No worries on the ride - you sure you'll be up for lunch @ House of MSG after chemo?? We can pick another day if you like.
Jimmy: I'll be fine, and hungry - I won't feel the effects for 6 to 8 hours!
Jimmy. We had a great lunch that day. We had a great visit with Tim Ly, a man both of us once called boss. Tim had his light-up-the-world-around-you-like-sunshine smile. You just need to see it, because it's wonderful, but it's never looked more wonderful to me than it did that day - because it just felt like he wasn't going to stop because he knew that Jimmy needed it. Jimmy wasn't backing down despite clearly being in pain. On our way out the door, he told Tim to be sure and call him this winter if he needed his parking lots plowed - which Jimmy did as a side business, in a big Ford truck that had the letters, yeah THAT JIMMY painted on it. Big. I never saw him plow a driveway or a parking lot - but I'd bet money that the snow really melted away due to Jimmy's inner warmth for others. Any snowplow should have it so easy.
Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
Jimmy, you're loved - and missed, already. You were the best bartender in Hudson. You still are - because everyone in the small, wonderful pond that you made feel so big and like nothing else mattered, knows you and you know everyone. It's hard to imagine a bar somewhere else, a bigger one, that needs you more than the small pond - and you gotta know that you have a shit TON of seats to save for us all. Kinda sucks that none of us know exactly when we'll show up, but everyone - and I mean everyone shows up at your bar, so just save 'em for us will ya? God bless you my friend, my peer - and in a job I know well, my idol - because I could do this until I'm the oldest person back there and I'll still never be able to do what you do back there, without even trying, simply because you're you. Jimmy.
Yeah, that Jimmy.
Rest in peace Jimmy Finley - real quick, can you pour all of us a double shot of your strength and courage?
