defective yeti: In Memoriam

In the early hours of January 1st, 2000, my friend Jamie Babcock took his own life.

I'd known Jamie for at least 15 years, though I'm not sure exactly when we met. I do recall that, at some point, he was the "new kid" at my elementary school, where he was soon celebrated for his ability to draw a near perfect Garfield--quite the marketable skill in an early-eighties fifth-grade classroom. His other claim to fame was that he had come in second at a big Pac-Man competition in whatever town he had moved from. According to his telling of the story at the time, he lost by only 10 points. As I got older I eventually recognized the whole thing as a tall tale told by a transplanted kid trying to impress his new classmates, but let's be honest: in those days we all lied about our video game prowess.

And I'm not sure when we actually became friends either, but here is a clue: I gave Jamie the first "Weird Al" Yankovic album as a birthday present. This was shortly after the record's release in 1984; thus, we were familiar enough to exchange gifts by '85 at the latest. In fact, this interaction is my first vivid memory of him. He ripped the wrapping paper off the a cassette tape I had given him and his face immediately fell. "Oh," he said. "I thought it would be something cool like Van Halen, but thanks."

We were buddies by the end of our Freshman year of high school though, and had become close friends by graduation. In some way this was inevitable: Hazen High school teachers preferred to seat kids alphabetically, so he and I were adjacent in every class we shared. But even beyond proximity we had a lot in common. In fact, although he (unlike myself) was muscular and good-looking, Jamie was, in many respects, even more geeky than I. He was a huge Star Trek fan, for instance. And he was fanatically devoted to those comic books he followed, Sandman foremost amongst them. Every Wednesday we we would bike to Warlord's (our local comic book store) to pick up our favorite titles from the newest shipment.

But (again unlike me), Jamie also had many non-nerdly pursuits. He was on our school's wrestling team for instance, where he competed in a weight class that was seemingly five pounds under what his body thought was ideal. Consequentially, he was forever depriving himself of food, trying to keep his poundage just under the limit. I think his perpetual diet made him genuinely unhappy at times, but he also joked around about it. Once, during a class, he made a production of tearing a piece of notebook paper into tiny scraps; he then drew a piece of food on each (a slice of pizza, a cheeseburger), and spent the remainder of the hour eating them, one by one, to the restrained laughter of myself and the others around him.

That was Jamie in a nutshell. Whatever happened he just kind of took it in stride. Once, when we were driving around in his VW Rabbit, I set a half-unwrapped Peach-flavored Jolly Rancher Stix on his dashboard while I put on my seatbelt; when Jamie tapped the brakes a moment later, it slid into a ventilation slot, never to be seen again. He shrugged and never gave me shit for it, even though his car smelled of peaches from that day forward.

After high school Jamie and I went our separate ways, he to Washington State University in Spokane, I to Evergreen in Olympia. We still got together during holidays and breaks, but less and less frequently. Even so, I would still refer to him as "one of my best friends", and mean it.

Jamie joined the police academy after college. Physically and athletically he was perfect for the job--his experience as a wrestler would surely come in handy when "taking down a perp" or whatever--but I'd never heard him express any interest in law enforcement, so the news came as a surprise to me. Of course I hardly ever saw Jamie by this point, so what did I know? Shortly thereafter I joined the Peace Corps and lost all contact with him for a couple of years.

He was an officer by the time I returned to the States in 1997, so one evening I joined him on a "ride-along". Jamie patrolled North Seattle, and we spent much of the night cruising around the U-District, with occasional jaunts down 50th or 65th to get to the scene of some fracas or another. He pointed out all the drug dealers and petty criminals we passed (which, at 1:30 AM on University Way, was nearly everyone), reciting their dates of birth from memory as he did so. He stopped a robbery at a convenience store, subduing the thief with the threat of pepper spray. He pulled over someone for speeding, but let them off with a warning because they had a "Pedro the Lion" sticker in their back window.

At one point we were called to the apartment of two college girls, who claimed that someone had broken into their house and rifled through their stuff. They were drunk or high or both, and their story was profoundly confused. They couldn't point to any one thing that proved that their stuff has been messed with, but they were certain that it had; and they knew that someone had broken into their house because, well, their stuff had been messed with, and how else would someone have gotten to it?

I assumed we'd turn around and leave, but Jamie patiently listened to their rambling and often contradictory tale, jotting notes as he did so. He asked a few probing questions but never showed the slightest sign of disrespect. By the end of their account they were clearly embarrassed that they had summoned the police, but Jamie waved away their apologies. "You were right to call," he assured them, and they looked relieved, and everything was cool.

It's probably unwise of me to speculate on what kind of police officer Jamie was based on this one night, but I'm going to anyway. I think he was exactly the kind of cop you'd want to show up when you were in a jam, someone with a good sense of humor who nonetheless took you seriously, someone who made it clear that he was on your side.

There was one incident in Jamie's childhood that hinted at an impulse-control problem, a time when he had put his fist through a window in anger and nearly bled to death before they could get him to a hospital. I think this happened before he moved to our neighborhood and, for all I know, it may have happened just after he lost that "Pac-Man competition", if you know what I mean. He definitely had scars on his hand, though. Truth be told, those scars were the only evidence of impetuousness I ever saw in him.

By all accounts Jamie's decision to take his own life was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. He didn't think about doing it, he just did it. Also bear in mind that this took place in the early hours of New Year's Day, so I assume that alcohol was involved. He could drink, that guy.

I was told the news about 10:00 that morning, called by a mutual friend of ours from high school. There was some bitter irony in the timing of the news, as we had all spent the evening prior worrying about the Y2K bug. No sooner had learned that civilization was not going to collapse than this punch-in-the-gut arrived. And we were, like, what's the point of the world continuing if folks like Jamie aren't going to be in?

I hardly saw Jamie at in the years between the ride-along and the funeral and, in retrospect, I obviously wish otherwise. But when I think of him on New Year's Day--and I always think of him on New Year's Day--it reminds me to appreciate my current friends to the fullest.

That's a gift you left behind for me, Jamie. I would have preferred something cool like Van Halen, but thanks.

That's a sad story. So very sad. I've lost quite a few friends to suicide, and it's a cut that never seems to heal for those who are still living. I admire your courage to write and publish such a story.

Posted by: Thomas on January 7, 2009 5:25 PM

Sad and touching. It's always interested me that people's memories of their loved ones and friends revolve around small, almost insignificant events, like your memory of the Jolly Rancher down the vent slot. Sometimes, I think it's the little things that define people more than the big events. Thank you for sharing.

Posted by: edjusted on January 8, 2009 10:54 AM

Thanks for this, Matt. Those who've experienced the loss of a friend so young know just how difficult it is to express such a sentiment, and you do so with sensitivity, eloquence, and humor. I admire your ability and your heart.

Posted by: Eric Feezell on January 9, 2009 9:34 AM

I remember a good friend Daniel. Showing up at my 7th Birthday party unannounced. I didn't invite him I remember thinking. I played along. He was that new kid and I was that cool kid so the last thing you want is to ruin a birthday.

We decided the cool thing to do on a birthday with 12 kids would be to play football in the front yard. We picked sides. I knew no one knew Daniel so I picked him first. He needed it. We played for an hour or so until I slid in a grand attempt to score and crashed into the foundation of our house. My head burst open. I remember laying on the ground bleeding while my mom called for us to cut the cake and open presents.

They ran quickly put me in the car and rushed me off to get 10 stitches in my head. I went back to te party closed down. All the cake had been eaten and the parents had come to get the guests.

I sat alone opening each gift. Some I had asked for and knew I would receive. Others I didn't want. I got to Daniel's. It was an acrylic puzzle like a Rubiks cube. Hands down the coolest gift I got. Out of the blue.

I transferred schools a week later. I kept seeing him and crossing his path. He played on the other team in Little League. I would strike out if he was pitching.

I moved soon after a few hundred miles away. I would come back to visit once every few years. The first time I came back my grandmother brought me out a newspaper with his picture on it. It was from the class I was in so it looked like a captured memory of him. The story told of him and a friend playing around in a pool. the friend started struggling and drowning. Daniel jumped in to save him and they both had drowned.

He lives everyday in my heart. He is alive still to me. He is that child who needs a friend, who needs to fit in. He is my only true best friend.
Daniel.

Trey

Posted by: traceoflife on January 9, 2009 11:09 AM

Phenomenal tribute! I hope you realize that your contributions to the written word (serious and one liners) are a great gift. Can't count how many times you've cracked me up or inspired some deeper thoughts (which I tend to avoid). Thanks maaaaan ... sniffle!

Posted by: tracy on January 9, 2009 12:29 PM

Beautiful tribute. Been reading for at a half-a-decade, remember Squirrely being merely an announcement of a pregnancy, and I am stunned by this description of a lost friend.

I've had young friends die of ODs, suicide, random accidents, and stupid terminal diseases, but no cause of death has ever eased the pain of beautiful people dead before their time.

I guess this is what's preventing me from grasping Buddhism, that I don't want to let go of this sense of injustice.

Posted by: Hunter on January 9, 2009 8:24 PM

I just passed the second year anniversary of a good friend'ssuicide, which is the same week as the anniversary of another friend dying in a crash. Rough week, that one.

I mentioned it to a few students after class one day, when one said I was being unusually subdued. They were sympathetic, and one said she was sorry it had happened. I thought a second about the pain, and realized I wasn't sorry at all. The loss hurts a great deal, but knowing Gregg was worth the scars. Wish i could have helped him, but believing he's at peace makes it sting less

Posted by: somedude on January 10, 2009 3:01 AM

I lost a friend to suicide four years earlier, to the day. I hope you always remember what you learned when Jamie died. I'm ashamed to admit how I've lost the lesson of my friend's suicide over time. Thank you for reminding me.

Posted by: Dana on January 10, 2009 4:17 PM

Matthew:

Thank you for a great, heartfelt tribute to a friend. It shows that the small things we do both refine and reflect our character.

On a large scale people are remembered for what they accomplished (books written, cases solved), but on a personal level your friends remember that you helped fix their computer, or brought in their mail when they were gone.

A recitation of Jamie's most important arrests may have impressed a sargent, but the Pedro sticker story made me think of a fellow officer who met the same fate as your friend. And a fond remembrance is some consolation for the living.

Posted by: Brad on January 11, 2009 11:33 AM

I'm so sorry, Matt.

It's really cool to stay friends with someone from childhood and so hard to lose our childhood friends. Suicide is extremely difficult for survivors, I know. Few people realize that suicide is often impulsive. This doesn't make it easier to bear but people torture themselves with wanting to know why and I think sometimes it might help to understand that people do things on impulse at times that we can't explain rationally. And that this is the not the core of the person but more like a kind of short circuit in the brain. A tragic short circuit.

The Pedro the Lion thing is a great thing to know about Jamie. For some reason, it says so much about him.

Posted by: ozma on January 11, 2009 11:15 PM

A remarkable post, you should indeed get famous, your musings brighten a lot of peoples' days. Also the worst post ever, because of the experience it is based upon. I've lost a few close friends to suicide and it makes me angry to think about the waste. I suppose you can beat yourself up and think about why I didn't notice or why they didn't ask for help, but at the end of the day, I think you just keep going, try to remember the good things and try to resign the rest. I find it interesting in this new age of facebook and myspace that profiles become the new tribute, the new memorial, and even three years later, I find myself checking up on them, leaving comments, posting links and I guess secretly hoping somewhere in that great beyond they have T1 connections and no ice storms.

Thanks for this.

Posted by: TBW on January 12, 2009 11:38 AM

i knew jamie for a couple years. i also once went on a late-night ride-along with him. for me, there was a stark difference between his personality and that of the other officers i met that night. while most had a blue-collar, quasi-military attitude, jamie was thoughtful and curious and playful. i thought to myself at the time "we need more cops like jamie". i still miss him.

Posted by: bruce oberg on January 13, 2009 7:30 PM

I played recreation league basketball with Jamie back in elementary school, and despite our terrible record, he was one of our better players. In my 1989 yearbook, Jamie signed his picture on his Senior Wrestling photograph. He drew a comics-style thought bubble emerging from his head; a slice of pizza inside.

We never became close friends, but all I can tell you is he was a very cool kid, and I always enjoyed talking with him or seeing what he's drawing. Thanks for writing this Matt, I learned a lot more about him through your words.

Posted by: B Frank on January 15, 2009 9:43 AM

Jamie was a great guy...I remember him from school of course but also church, or rather skipping church. A group of us @ Highlands would often find ourselves someplace other than where we were "supposed" to be. Jamie was fun and funny and I enjoyed his unassuming personality. A refreshing change from your average annoying overzealous teenage boy in the mid 80's. I remember hearing through the grapevine after highschool that he had become a police officer and thinking wow...not what I envisioned but ok..I'm sure he's a good one. I was so shocked to hear of his passing...he was one of a kind. Thanks Matt for sharing your memories.

Posted by: Renee I. on January 15, 2009 9:55 AM

Great piece Matt. Jamies and I shared many experiences in our younger years, and he did love Van Halen. He'd sit down at theat piano and rip off the opening of Jump, while drawing perfect Garfields. Then we'd run off into the woods, shoot each other with BB guns, along with Todd M, John M and some of the others neighborhood kids. I remember his hand through the glass thing too, I want to say that was in 4th grade, because he and Stepahine came into the neighborhood about the same time as Derek J did.

Jamie was one tough son of gun. He and I would wrestle, and I had 50# on the kid back in Elementary shcool...he ate it up. We'd punch each other in the shoulders, trying to bring out a sliver of emotion or show weakness...he could take more than I could. In high school, we drifted apart, but his work at Safeway, coincided with my brief stint there, as well as a close proximity to my girlfriends house. We saw each other regularly, but mostly exchanged pleasantries and small talk.

I heard the news of his passing many years later, and it was a complete mystery to me as to why. Jamie had something in there that bothered him terribly, but I never heard a peep about it. It's sad to think that things would be so difficult that your only option is not a real option at all.

Mortality sucks, and Jamie deserves to be here, among us. He is missed.

Posted by: D. Mitchell on January 15, 2009 11:46 AM

I had no idea about Jamie's death. I'm horribly sad about it. The last time I saw him he was a checker at Safeway and was just about to join the police academy. I've often wondered about him and how he has been, even just this week. Matthew, you are indeed a great writer.

Posted by: Anita on January 27, 2009 1:23 PM

Hey, Matt - I lost my little brother to suicide on Feb. 21, 2000. I still think of him most every day, usually when something triggers a silly memory. His dry sense of humor turned everything around. One time, I was lost on the interstate, trying to find our way to an amusement park. Instead of getting pissy about it, he quietly noted "You're wasting our fun time."

Like your friend, I think my brother's decision to end his own life was an impulse. He had had problems and drank heavily - too much the night before he died. How I wish he would have slept it off that morning. I think he'd still be here.

Thanks very much for sharing your memories of your friend. Suicide sucks, but as you mentioned, it makes you appreciate your days a little more.

Posted by: Molly on February 7, 2009 6:57 PM

I gave the eulogy for a friend who committed suicide. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done.

The thing about suicides is that they are the only people in the entire world who don't think they deserve to live. But if we could help them, they'd still be alive, wouldn't they?

Arrived here via the mindfuck movies article, excellent!

Posted by: Lorin Rivers on February 14, 2009 2:55 PM

Hi Matt. I just updated my info for our upcoming reunion and saw Jamie's name on the In Memoriam section. I hadn't heard about this and I'm so sad. I wanted to find out as much as I could and I came across your beautiful writing. Thank you for sharing it. I hope to see you at the reunion.

Posted by: Robin T on February 21, 2009 5:51 PM

This is a beautiful tribute, funny and touching. I re-read it every so often, and it makes me think of all the people I've been meaning to get in touch with, and of how the world can change overnight. A much-needed reminder.

Posted by: Meagan on April 29, 2009 10:17 PM