SAN FRANCISCO: THE FIRST 100 DAYS - DAY 88 Funny thing, how one simple phone call can change the color, tone and mood of your entire day. Take today, for example. I knew this was the date of my call for my unemployment benefits appeal in Nevada. That was stressful enough, and afterward, I was so bummed out that I really wanted nothing more to do with the day, except to sleep for most of it, which I did pretty much. But just after my nap, talking to my BFF, Darryl P., about one of our favorite subjects, AMERICAN HORROR STORY: COVEN and the season finale, lifted my spirits right up. The fact that Bear finally found the Series 3 episodes of SHERLOCK in the OnDemand queue made it even better. Chinese food, wine and delving into a new mystery with Holmes and Watson...how could an evening be better served? The unpleasantness of the morning was soon forgotten. But it was about to be dwarfed by an even more devastating phone call. There was something that went wrong with the stereo sound system for the TV, and I saw that Darryl was trying to call back. Usually when he does that, its about a point we forgot to discuss when reviewing story or characters in a particular episode. We always pick up on it with our next conversation, so I thought with the present problem at hand, it was best to let it go to voice mail and try to call him right back, or talk to him tomorrow. But then, as soon as he called the first time, he called back again...IMMEDIATELY. My BFF never does that, unless something is truly urgent. I feared the worst before I even picked up the phone. I knew his mother had been in-hospital recently, and there had been some serious issues with her recovery, so my first thought was for her, and I just hoped, Please let her be okay. It turns out I neednt have worried about her. This was about someone else. Jeff Nokomis had died. For just a moment, everything stopped, and I was filled with a flood of such emotion and memories that overwhelmed everything else. Suddenly, not a single other thing mattered. I had to stifle my sobs of sudden grief that welled up, as if Id lost a blood relative - a favorite uncle, perhaps. And in a manner of speaking, I had. The old Capitol Video Sales store on 8th Street on the Hill. My job, my place of sanctuary, my Xanadu, where I could truly dwell among like-minded people for whom movies werent just plastic cassettes in a box...they were a way of life. James Jimmy Townsend was the owner, the boss, the money man who signed our checks. John Fleming was the brains as our GM and shift manager as well, not to mention wearing a trillion other hats. The employees there were truly an ensemble cast of characters, but if one person could be cited as the beating heart of the store, that would have been Nokomis Jefferson, aka Jeff Nokomis, also affectionately (and sometimes snarkily, depending on who was saying it) known as Nana. John hired me all those years ago, back in 1988, when he knew that I wasnt bullshitting about my vast knowledge and love of movies, and Jimmy (JT) approved it. But I dont really think I got the true seal of approval, until Jeff took me under his wing, the way he did so many people. I wish I had gotten to know him somehow much better than I actually did. What DID I know about Jeff? Maybe a little more than someone who worked with him just on a part-time basis. Smart, funny, incredibly witty. EXTREMELY fit for a man his age, so much so, in fact, that I dont think a lot of people truly knew his correct age. (And he kept it that way.) His long-term partner, Jim, was a very sweet man, who came into the store very seldom. Jeff was never one to brag, boast or habitually drop names, even though you got the sense that hed lived quite a life and knew a LOT of people. It wasnt till just before Jims untimely death, that I found out that he was a well-renowned concert pianist. Jeff happened to mention in passing very few times, that he knew jazz pianist Shirley Horn (who was instrumental in helping him cope with Jims passing) and Roberta Flack. And I knew that was just the tip of the iceberg, but you couldnt press Jeff about his life outside the store, unless he felt like talking about it. I knew he NEVER had to work such a low-paying gig at the video store, but I certainly understood why he did it. Jeff seemed to know EVERYBODY on the Hill, and the store was his central hub for staying in touch with all his friends. And he made so many new ones as well. He was the kind of man who might be a stranger when you first met him, but when you left, you felt like youd just sat down and had coffee with him. That was Jeff. He tried never to have a negative word for anybody, and it was the rarest of occasions youd ever hear a discouraging word about him. (And IF you did, you had to consider the source.) I knew that he was very active in the local leather community, and the house he used to have in Rehoboth was the scene of many memorable gatherings. Jeff truly believed in staying active and healthy, and never believed in retirement - the other reason he was at the store. He was never the type who was going to sit home, grow soft, fat and pudding-brained and die at an early age. I hope I can learn something from that philosophy, because it certainly worked for him. I remember the very last time we went to go and see him, at the twilight of Capitals closing days. We were so glad to see each other, and we got our chance to catch up after weeks and months of just missing each other...and it just felt like picking up right where we left off. He was, for the first time since Id known him, looking his age (whatever it was), and I cant help but believe that the closing of the store took something out of him. He was the heart of the center of a community, brought together by the love of all kinds of film and everything dealing with that subject. But soon, that heart would not have a body to beat for. And that, in part, I believe is what happened. It wasnt all hearts, flowers and roses, trust me. There were bad times, bad days and some dicey situations. But Jeff was one of the main reasons why some of that could be mitigated; made not to seem as bad as all that. And anyway, on the days I have thought about the best times I had at that store, I never thought of Jeff without a smile coming to my face. And I dont believe that even now, that will ever change. Godspeed, Jeff. You left a lot of love behind you, and I think that should be the main goal for us all, before this sharp, short time we have on the planet is over.
Posted on: Fri, 31 Jan 2014 08:14:58 +0000
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