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Sadly, Jim Grotstein died on May 30, 2015.
Because he was alive when I wrote this essay, I used the present tense for general statements about him. I have decided to let that stand.
After completing the article, I sent it to Jim. Here is what he wrote in return:
Dear Bill,
Thank you so very much for the biography. You certainly put a lot of effort into it. I admire that.
On the whole, it seems to be me, albeit elevated in stature. Thank you very much for what you've done for me and to me. I have no corrections to make. Where is it going to appear?-Warmly,
I. On July 27, 2013, at 6:30 AM, I drove the 95 miles from Santa Barbara, California, where I was staying with friends, to the home of Dr. James Grotstein, in Los Angeles. Jim was standing on the edge of the driveway, a short distance from the door of his house, waiting, as I made the turn. His smile was welcoming and expectant. He leaned, but not heavily, on the aluminum bars of a walker. I knew he'd been having some fairly serious health problems, and hence the prosthesis. He told me he called it ‘Johnny,” and his cane “Abel.” A third object to which he'd given a fanciful name was his antique Jaguar XKE, introduced as Nigel Bruce, after the English actor who, through many Hollywood Sherlock Holmes films, played Dr. Watson, as a comic foil to Basil Rathbone's suave, unflappable Holmes.
I followed Jim across his threshold; he moved with alacrity despite the encumbrance, and its seeming to rely on him rather than the obverse put me immediately in mind of the complex permutations of projective identification. He was soon to add to these by broaching his concept of projective transidentification, but I am getting ahead of my story. On seeing and greeting Jim's gracious wife, Susan, who straightaway invited me to a bountiful breakfast at their table, I regretted the earlier stop I had made at a coffee shop.
Over fruit, yogurt, coffee, rugelach, and several smaller tasty enhancements, we talked politics, travel, religion, cultu