We all knew Jimmie Knox, Jr., as "Little Jimmie." His dad, "Brother Jimmie" Knox, was the pastor who baptized my sister and me at First Baptist Church, Norco, Louisiana.

Little Jimmie was the paid part-time youth minister. He had another full-time job, of course. I don't recall what that was, if I ever even knew.

When I was ten years old, my family moved to St. Charles Parish, and we began attending FBC Norco. My sister, going into high school, was immediately welcomed into the youth group; I had to watch from the sidelines. I couldn't wait to get into seventh grade; not because of school, but because I couldn't wait to get into the youth group.

(Click "read more" to hear the audio version).

It was a small, but active, youth group; Little Jimmie and his wife, Linda, organized swimming parties, Sunday night fellowships and devotionals, movie nights, Centrifuge trips, and runs into nearby Kenner, Metairie and LaPlace for pizza.

Little Jimmie had organized the youth group into the excellent "Sonshine Players" puppet team.  The Sonshine Players were good . . . very good.

Jimmie and Linda understood the discipline and art of puppetry. FBC Norco had quality puppets. Lots of costumes. A very well-made (but easy to take apart and set up) stage with thick curtains. And, a pretty darn good portable sound system.

Youth practiced throughout the week - walking around with their puppet arm extended right up next to their head and into the air for long periods of time; constantly assuming the proper puppet position with their hand and exercising the thumb while keeping the hand and fingers as still as possible.

And they went on tour: the Sonshine Players performed puppet shows on the Florida beach and in churches along whatever routes they took on trips.

By the time I got into the youth group, the older youth (including my sister) were all graduating; the puppet team was dwindling and losing its critical mass. Also about that time, Brother Jimmie resigned to minister elsewhere and with him went Little Jimmie and Linda.

But in my one short year in "his" youth group, Little Jimmie planted some important seeds that would take deep root and begin grow under the next several youth ministers (I had five different youth ministers between 7^th and 12^th grades).

Little Jimmie introduced me to "Christian" music that was unlike anything I had ever heard: most notably the soundtrack to Godspell. Since I was already developing a deep fondness for Woodstock and all things hippie, Godspell was talking to me in my language. Likewise, he introduced me to the music Gary S. Paxton (don't forget the "S."; that's one-third of his whole name!). Many times Little Jimmie loaned me his Godspell and Gary S. Paxton cassette tapes; I memorized all the songs on both albums, and Little Jimmie and I would quote them and sing them to each other.

He also loved to laugh. He gave (not loaned, but gave) me two of his old comedy albums, which I still have: The Smothers Brothers' classic Mom Always Like You Best! and the brilliant Take-Offs and Put-Ons by the not-yet-FCC-foe George Carlin. Little Jimmie and I would take turns trading Smothers Brothers' lines, and quoting the entire "Al Sleet, the Hippy-Dippy-Weatherman" skit of Carlin's.

Little Jimmie also taught me that good people get divorced.

In the 70s and early 80s, Southern Baptists preached a lot about divorce, and left me as a young pre-teenager with the impression that divorce was essentially an unforgivable sin in God's eyes.

When my family arrived at Norco, I had to face perhaps my first serious theological crisis - a man I loved and respected was divorced (Linda was Little Jimmie's second wife). A man leading and teaching youth, praying for and with youth, singing and praying in church . . . and the preacher's son, no less! It took a little bit of wrestling, but in my early pre-teenage years, I had to admit that I didn't understand everything in the Bible, and that the harshly-admonishing preachers quoting it obviously had never met Little Jimmie and Linda.

I had not heard from or about Little Jimmie (or any of the Knoxes) for over two decades.  On a recent trek through Norco, some of my FBC church family informed me that Little Jimmie had died.

As an adult, I never got to tell Little Jimmie how much his short-lived presence in my life meant to me;  maybe somehow by God's grace this musing will find its way into the hands of Linda, or even Brother Jimmie - wherever they may be.

But to Little Jimmie, who taught me (in the words of Gary S. Paxton) that "there's got to be more to livin', than people just waitin' to die," I love you.  Thank you for your ministry to me when I needed it most.  And anytime I watch Godspell or share Smothers Brothers' stories with others, I always remember you.

Until then, Little Jimmie, this is Bert Montgomery, your hippy-dippy weatherman, with all the hippy, dippy, weather . . . man . . .

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