From John Hlinko

Jim Stringer once saved my life. That is, he didn't kill me when he first met me.

It was just a few weeks after Leigh and I had started dating, and Jim and Mary Helen came to DC to visit (and yes, to meet me). I could only wonder what was going through his mind when I said something to the effect of, "why yes, that's right, I quit my perfectly good job to start up a presidential campaign for a guy who's not actually running, and by the way, I'm not getting paid a dime, and oh, I think Leigh and I are already quite serious, and... hi, nice to meet you."

Well, as the father of a daughter myself now, I can only imagine what was going through his mind, and yet... he not only chose not to commit homicide, he and Mary Helen went on to get involved with the Draft Wesley Clark effort, and to ultimately lead the effort in Georgia -- a truly incredible effort which blew the doors off those in the other states.

Well, flashing forward, Jim is now my father-in-law. And while I'd like to go off on a string of "in-law" jokes, complaints, kvetches, etc., the reality is, I just can't. I got nothing, for a simple reason -- Jim really has been the best father-in-law a guy could ask for (I've got no reason to lie here, folks, Leigh and I are already married). He's been a great friend, mentor, buddy to joke around with, and time after time, a truly fantastic teacher -- including one very memorable occasion where he patiently explained to this northern boy why ordering grits and French toast together was just... well... wrong. (no eggs, no cheese, just the French toast and a pile of plain grits).

I'm a lucky guy in that I've had a great dad my whole life. But for the last several years, I've been doubly blessed to add a truly wonderful "Dad 2.0" as well.

Jim, here's to a very, very happy birthday. And once again, thanks for not killing me.

John Hlinko