A few years back, good fortune (or Providence) led me to read You Got Nothing Coming, a thoroughly enjoyable memoir from an alcoholic ex-con named Jimmy Lerner. And a scary thing happened when I read how he'd ended up in the Nevada prison system on a manslaughter beef: I could relate to it, far more than I would have liked. A lot happened to me in 2004, and it's anyone's guess what would have happened had I not read that book in that personally tumultuous year. But I am inclined to think that Jimmy's book helped save my life.
A while after that, I'd written and self-published a book of my own called Pottersville, and in the process of marketing it, I solicited reviews from a lot of authors whose books I'd really enjoyed. Jimmy was one of the few to respond; he graciously reviewed it and had a lot of wonderful things to say about it.
Everything everyone does can be interpreted harshly or charitably. In retrospect, Jimmy may well have had other motives for what he said and did, and after our initial discussions, I learned that he was perhaps a more complicated person than I'd first realized. Still, he helped me out immensely at two key junctures in my life--one time inadvertently, and one time consciously--and for that, I'm eternally grateful. So it was with some sadness that I found out, after attempting to contact him during a late-night Internet bender a couple weeks ago, that he'd passed on in 2008. (I know this isn't exactly rigorous sourcing here, but the information on the discussion page sounded credible, and I haven't seen anything to contradict it.) I've been meaning to post something about it, and now--a rainy Saturday here in Chicago--seems as good a time as any.
R.I.P., Jimmy. And thanks again.
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