I lost a close friend (someone who loved me without fail and I could count on his love no matter what) a week ago today--James Thomas Mark Pluta from Justice, Ill. (born in 1964, the same year of my birth, and never married like me). He was the consummate Chicagoland journalist, known far and wide in the city and its burbs, with good intentions always.
You can read the obituary article that appeared in the Chicago Tribune by going online. I presented the gospel to him several times and he always knew I was a Believer, but I don't know if he was saved at the time of death. I had not been in touch with him and he died suddenly of a heart infection.
A couple of weeks ago I started to have a problem with my left foot's arch. I kept walking on it because I wanted to be outside and exercise, but that only made it worse.
Suddenly, it started throwing off the whole left side of my body and then last Sunday, crying over first learning of the death of my dear friend Pluta (who I personally nicknamed Grizzly Adams because of his looks, his height and his gentle character) and then crying during the morning message at my church, I got out of my seated position and leaned over and my back just went kapooey in a very painful way. It turns out it is my sciatic nerve and I think I have a real problem on my hands. It's better now but it's a big long haul, I fear.
I have so many stories about Pluta. He was a guy who had such overt kindness and gregariousness about him, the epitome of fun-loving, had a tremendous sense of humor and loved people of all stripes and backgrounds; strangers were his calling card! He was also like John Candy's character Uncle Buck in some poignant ways.
One of many stories for me was how he came to visit me in Manhattan (the first time Pluta had ever been in New York City) and, as he was known for in his personal life (but not professionally!), did not arrive on time. This was before cell phones got big and he called me from the airport that he had arrived and was taking a cab. When he finally arrived he told me that he was unexpectedly interviewed by TV reporters about Steve Bartman, the man who attempted to catch a foul ball resulting in the Cubs losing in the playoffs.
Pluta said they assured him he would be on the evening newscast in New York. I had planned that we would meet friends of mine for dinner and so we ended up going to a sports place on the Upper East Side and they had a hockey game on that everybody at the packed bar was really into.
Pluta informed the bartender that he would be on the evening news and asked if he could please turn to the ABC station. Well, that went over like a lead balloon, but for some reason the bartender suddenly announced to his patrons that he was about to cut away from the satellite station over to the sports news because this man (6' 4 inches with beard and portly belly) said he was going to be on the news. This had everyone's attention and sure enough the newscast had videotape of Pluta and his comments! The whole crowd clapped after his appearance!
*****
"The greatest happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved, loved for ourselves, or rather loved in spite of ourselves."
[18] There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
[19] We love him, because he first loved us.
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