James Peter Mozden

West Point, 1964

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Jon Williams on June 14, 1999:

(Comments about Jim Mozden made by Jon Williams, a high school classmate, at the rememberance ceremony 12 June 1999 in Claremont, NH) I'd like to tell you about my friend Jimmy Mozden, and the way that I remember him. He was about 5' 10'' tall, had brown hair, brown eyes, a medium build, and he was strong. He was kind, thoughtful, considerate, fun loving, and passionate. Passionate? Yes passionate; his passion for the Boston Red Sox was without parallel - if the Red Sox ever had ball players with as much skill as Jimmy had passion as a fan, they'd have been collecting championships more often than the dreaded New York Yankees. He was the kind of guy that everyone would like to have for a classmate; he was the kind of guy that any teacher would like for a student; he was the kind of guy that everyone would like for a son, or a brother. Most of all, he was the kind of guy that everyone would like for a friend. In addition to his work at the store, Jimmy always had time and energy to lead and participate in class activities. He was a member of the trumpet section of the nationally renowned Stevens High School band for four years. He was not a good trumpet player. If there were a movie about the band, he'd be listed in the credits as: 7th or 8th trumpeter - I know - I sat next to him for those four years; if he were the 7th, I'd have been the 8th, and vice versa. But, he marched well and showed up at all of the practices. He enjoyed the band concerts, parades, and trips. He was our class vice president for our Junior and Senior years. For our Junior Prom, Jim planned and organized the event, and joined his classmates in the endless stuffing of green napkins in chicken wire to ensure that it was truly a Sylvan Symphony. As a founder and ace reporter of The Stentor, our newspaper, he ensured that the student body was always well informed. He even took a turn at acting, co-starring in our senior play. As a student, Jimmy was almost too good. Not only did he get good grades (National Honor Society, and the St. Paul's Summer Program), but he actively participated in class, turned in his assignments on time, and helped those with less ability. He didn't just show up in class, he became a part of the learning process. His academic prowess was not lost on his friends & parents: I can still remember trying to finesse a night at the movies without finishing my homework, only to be reminded that, "Your friend Jimmy would manage to get it done before he went out." A polling of our teachers would have shown Jimmy to be one of their favorite students. Jimmy's enthusiasm for sports was legendary. As I mentioned earlier, his love of baseball in general, and the Red Sox in particular was extraordinary. Judy (Young) Putnam remembers, as little kids, betting on Red Sox games with Jimmy for Popsicle sticks. He pursued me for 4 years for a Ted Williams autograph - no one deserved it more, so I gave it to him. But, he was not just a fan on the sidelines; he loved to compete and play all sports. He could often be found playing sandlot baseball, pickup football, pickup basketball, and hockey. Alas, he was not a superior athlete, he didn't have the physical skills to star on the major high school sports teams, but that never stopped him. As a founding member of the Tennis and Golf teams, he found his teams. He was really a lousy golfer; though, his drive was a work of art - it would travel 200 yards straight out and then take a 90 degree turn right, actually, it might have been more than 90 degrees, because the ball ended up about 180 yards from the tee. Even with that as a handicap, he managed to win the first, and unfortunately only, Annual Salisbury Cup competition in Rye, New Hampshire. Could he have really been this good? After all, it's been 40 years; maybe memory is gilding the lily. I think not, I expect that I've forgotten many things that made Jimmy such a special friend. Maybe a couple of stories about Jim will help describe what a regular, good guy he was. In Junior High School, during the baseball season, Jimmy and a few of his friends would abscond with their 30 cents lunch money. Abscond? Yes, misuse of funds earmarked for the purchase of one meal at the cafeteria. And why? To spend 25 cents for fries and a coke at the Hide-a-Way Dairy Bar, and spend the other 5 cents for a newspaper to study the previous days box scores in great detail. We were so innocent in our youth, we really thought that we were getting away with something. Can you picture Jimmy eating short lobsters on the Isles of Shoals with a lobster fisherman and his family? He did, and I'm sure that he never felt any more guilt about it than I did. In Jimmy's junior year summer at West Point, his company made a visit to the Coast Guard Academy where I was. They were only going to be staying at the Academy for a couple of days, and it was during the middle of the week. I hadn't seen Jim for about a year, and had looked forward to spending some free time with him and his classmates. While the West Point cadets were to be given time off-base during the evening, Coast Guard cadets were not. Resourceful as ever, Jim managed to find a classmate with a uniform just my size. He had secured a tour guide and a fun night on the town for his classmates, his friend, and himself. Several years later, in 1966-67, when Jim was in Vietnam, my wife, Martha was teaching a third grade class in North Hampton, New Hampshire. Each of her students wrote letters to Jimmy. Given his schedule and activities, no answer, or perhaps, an answer to the entire class was expected. Jim answered each letter individually. This was not a one-time deal; correspondence between the kids and Jimmy continued throughout the school year. The third graders had a real, live, hero in the Army. Every once in a while I think about Jimmy; I think about just how short his life was; how few friends we really have in our lives; how he would have felt about certain political and sporting events that have occurred in the past 27 years. I wonder if the advances in golf technology would have cured his slice. I don't wonder what Jimmy would feel about the Red Sox winning the World Series, but then again, neither does anyone who ever knew him. While in some sense, today helps bring some level of closure to Jimmy's life and tragic death; this is not goodbye, any more than it was on a very snowy day in 1972. We don't say goodbye to friends; they never really leave us. I miss Jimmy, and I wish that he were still with us. He's not, and his memory must suffice. He was really one of the good guys; thank you for letting me tell you how I remember him.

admin