A life full of story-making

Our good friend Jim Miller died, November 25. I've known Jim and Marlene for decades, working closing with them on the Castle Kilbride restoration, sharing dinner and glasses of wine on many occasions, debating and discussing matters of state (Jim was never short of opinions), and often marvelling over the latest absolutely perfect antique or classic car he had acquired and would sell. Or might not sell for a while, because he loved to be surrounded with unique, beautiful things.
He battled cancer ­ we always say that, but in Jim's case it was the utter truth ­ to the end, dealing antiques one week, gone the next.
Several communities came together as one for Jim's funeral. Antique and classic car dealers from across North America showed up. A good proportion of long-time Baden residents were there. And then there were all the others who simply were his friends. It was an eclectic group, and a similarly eclectic funeral.
The gathering was too big for the Millers' Lutheran church in Baden. So, the funeral was held at a Mennonite church, led by my favourite United Church minister (my wife, Nancy), with servers and ushers from several congregations and the community at large.
I went away from a beautiful funeral service thinking about Jim Miller stories. For it seems that everyone who met Jim ­ including the 700 who visited the funeral home and almost 500 who came to the funeral ­ came away with a Jim story to tell. He was that kind of guy.
Speaking at the funeral, one antique dealer recalled buying a trailer of antiques from Jim, sight unseen, because the offer was "$10,000 if you look at the stuff, $8,000 if you buy it sight unseen." He couldn't resist the ridiculous offer, and reluctantly admitted that it had been a good deal.
As I listened to the stories, I was reminded of a whole raft of Jim stories of my own. I laughed about the evening he showed up at our door in a gorgeous classic Packard; he'd been wondering how fast that very heavy automobile would go if you began from a standing start, in neutral, at the top of Bender Hill. So we drove up to the top of that hill, rocked back and forth to start the car moving, and by the time we hit the upslope on Huron, we were going very fast, indeed.
A lot of warm, funny things were shared about Jim. I can think of no better tribute that to remember him as a man who left a story with everyone he met.
The funeral itself was vintage Jim Miller. He had played a large part in planning it. I suspect most of the people who filed into the hall at Steinmann Mennonite had never been to a funeral that was preceded by music by the Dave Clark Five, Madonna, Harry Chapin, the Thompson Twins, Jim Croce, Roy Orbison, and Billy Joel, among others. This menu of music was followed, still pre-service, by a slide show with a soundtrack by the Beatles, Elton John and many more.
In the midst of the service itself, we sat quietly and listened, not to traditional hymns, but to "In My Dreams" by REO Speedwagon.
There were stories, there was music, there were images of Jim's beloved Rudy the Rooster, the fowl-on-the-lam befriended by Jim, even in the face of threats from the township bylaw department. And there were scripture readings and prayer, too, because Jim was a spiritual man, and wanted Nancy to bring those important things to the unique mix of the occasion.
As we left the reception, I realized that Jim had done it, one more time ­ every person at the unique service went away with one more Jim Miller story. What a legacy.