James S. Perham
Life Rafter Jim Perham: Never forgotten
A daughter's tribute, a Father's Day essay
By Kathy Perham-Hester
My sons, age 7 and 9, were silent. We had sat them down to tell them the news that Grandpa Jim, my dad, had died.
Corey, my eldest, spoke first. His head was downcast; his eyes were cherry red but he didn't allow himself to cry.
"Will we get a new Grandpa?"
Corey's first words struck me as peculiar but innocent. It wasn't until a few hours later that I had a better understanding of where he was going with his query.
"Mommy," he said matter-of-factly, "l don't want another Grandpa."
As I write this it has only been three weeks since I lost my dad, Jim Perham, to heart disease. What a shock of a lifetime. It still doesn't seem real. He was only two weeks shy of his 64th birthday and oh what a celebration we were going to have.
You see, he had been given a second chance at life. Two years ago he had had surgery to remove a very rare malignant tumor. Last Thanksgiving the cancer returned, leaving hopelessness in its wake because there was no cure.
Then miraculously, a lifeline was thrown out - an experimental drug showed promising results ofcombating his type of cancer, gastrointestinal stromal tumor, or GIST. He got into a clinical trial in Oregon. He had just had a checkup and by all accounts, this drug (now known as Gleevec) was taking his cancer to the cleaners after only three months.
Unfortunately, everyone was so focused on the cancer that the buildup in one artery of his heart was somehow missed.
Dad came to Alaska the year of statehood, 1959. For 35 of the 42 years he lived here, he worked for the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). Whether at work or not, you could count on Dad to have an opinion and to share it.
An FAA co-worker shared with me that years ago Dad put a block of wood inside a used box of soap and would actually "get on his soap box" to share his view. He wasn't content with banal statements either. A simple "How're you doin'?" would elicit "Oh, I'm shuckin' and jivin' down tlle bike path of life pursuing my chosen avocation with vim and vigor." He had a quit wit and a laughter that embraced you.
As far as fathers go, he was always there for me, as a child and as an adult. As a teenager, I remember him teaching me self-defense moves after I was attacked while running. Dad actually held a black belt in karate and, at that time, was a karate instructor for the Anchorage Police Department. I thought it was so cool to say that my dad trained the SWAT team in karate moves.
As an adult, I continued to be on the receiving end of his generosity and good graces. They extended to my husband and children, just as they did to anyone he came in contact with.
At his memorial service, Pastor Oldfield's sermon title was "I Want to be Like Jim Perham!" Just reading the title for the first time made me weep for in those seven words was a deep, personal, undeniable respect for a man who loved life but who was no longer around to share life with. And the fact of the matter is that that opinion was not just something one man said about another in isolation. Every person in church that evening paid their respects to a man who was a role model for all - who loved life and who loved his Lord and wasn't afraid to share that fact. Jim Perham made an impact on many lives; he will not be easily forgotten.
This Father's Day will be very bittersweet. It will be the first time without someone there to say "Happy Father's Day, Dad." I guess this will have to be the first of many. It's already been six years since we lost Mom. It's not a good feeling to know you're an orphan of sorts.
There is one feeling, though, that I can share with conviction - I am very proud to be recognized as Jim and Sandy Perham's daughter. I am very proud of my Perham family name and there is nothing on God's green Earth that can diminish that feeling in my heart and soul.
That's my tribute to Dad this Father's Day and every one hereafter. Love you, Dad.
Kathy Perham-Hester lives in Anchorage.
Warning: date() [function.date]: It is not safe to rely on the system's timezone settings. You are *required* to use the date.timezone setting or the date_default_timezone_set() function. In case you used any of those methods and you are still getting this warning, you most likely misspelled the timezone identifier. We selected 'America/Chicago' for 'CST/-6.0/no DST' instead in /home/liferaft/public_html/sources/layout.php on line 478
Warning: date() [function.date]: It is not safe to rely on the system's timezone settings. You are *required* to use the date.timezone setting or the date_default_timezone_set() function. In case you used any of those methods and you are still getting this warning, you most likely misspelled the timezone identifier. We selected 'America/Chicago' for 'CST/-6.0/no DST' instead in /home/liferaft/public_html/sources/layout.php on line 478
