In another life back in the 1980s Jim and I shared an office at the university's Arctic Environmental Information & Data Center in Anchorage, and I was his editor. Of course I knew of him and his Pulitzer, so I expected an excellent writer (he was), but what I hadn't anticipated was his kindness, wicked sense of humor, and generosity. Though we never worked together again, the spark of comradery and mutual respect we developed stuffed in that cramped office could always be reignited when we stumbled across each other at some watering hole or friend's party. I just assumed that Jim would always be out there somewhere, tilting at windmills and cursing the darkness, and in spirit he is.