When his grandchildren were reading Harry Potter, he called, asked me what the hoopla was all about and I met with him for breakfast on several occasions for a Harry Potter book club. Many years ago, when he decided to permanently go back to Oregon, where his missus currently lived (and where he was a resident when tax season wasn't in session), I helped him sell their home here in Mesa. That was an ordeal I would prefer to forget, but I got to know Diamond Jim Junior from the experience.
When Diamond Jim's same wife of many, many years passed away and he decided to, once again, leave Oregon and move back to Mesa, I helped him find another house. It was another painful process, and I ended up losing my entire commission to a fellow friend and agent. In the end, Diamond Jim Junior, corralled his father, and kept a lot of folks from strangling Diamond Jim, and thus going to jail. As much as I adore Diamond Jim, he is
By the way, Marty Sunshine and Buckaroo went up to Oregon with Diamond Jim to help him pack up and drive the U-Haul back to Mesa. A drive that was epic by its own right. Polly cleans his house. Marty fixes his computer every few months. I eat breakfast with him about two to three times a month. Buckaroo helps him in his yard. He isn't just my accountant. He is a family friend.
This past tax season was a tough one for Diamond Jim. My taxes alone took from February 1 (when I gave him my paperwork) to May 5 (when the vein in my forehead was ready to pop from this tax season). I have heard from other clients of his that they had just as harrowing and mind-numbing experiences this tax season too. In fact, this tax season was so difficult for him that I hear Diamond Jim's clients all got audited--I know I did. Around early May, I called Diamond Jim Junior to express my concerns--though I was no doctor--I was pretty sure he was in the early stages of dementia. Junior knew everything I was going to say, as I wasn't the first phone call he had received.
Through the summer, Junior and I kept in touch. When I called him once to tell him things had gotten worse and his father had started asking Marty for help using the IRS.gov Web site, Junior told me he and his sister have talked to Diamond Jim until there were no more words. At this point, they were stepping back. Diamond Jim didn't want help and was belligerent when the topic came up that something might be wrong with him. He was adamant he was fine and as far as he was concerned, his children were picking on him. Junior stated to me that until Diamond Jim was a danger to himself, others, or property there was nothing he or his sister could do anyway. We ended the call with me saying, "You have six months. Max."
Three weeks ago, Diamond Jim's brother called Junior. There were more problems. Diamond Jim had caused some sort of drama. Junior called me. Did I have an update on his father's condition? I told him, "Your six months are up."
The next day, Diamond Jim stopped by. Somehow he had lost my number, though it was on his phone. He told me his kids decided to come from their respective states and were coming to visit. He was afraid they would tell him he was "cracking up." Somehow, I was tactful enough to say something along the lines of it was time he seek help. We all want to treat him with dignity. But he is perpetuating a lie by not owning up to the reality of a tough situation. It was a difficult chat, and when he left I felt absolutely horrible.
Today I met with Diamond Jim, Junior, and Little Sister. I am listing Diamond Jim's home in a few weeks. Diamond Jim is going North, to an assisted living center somewhere near his son. It broke my heart to walk through his home, like he wasn't there, giving advice on staging and packing. Diamond Jim for the most part, took it in stride (though he mentally checked out a couple of times). We all wanted him to have his dignity as he goes through this change in his life. I wish him the best.
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