“I’m just the old white-haired man in the corner with an opinion.”

That was Jimmy Boyd’s favorite way to introduce himself. It was a classic Jimmy move: a humble smokescreen designed to deflect attention away from the fact that he was often the smartest, most connected, and most determined person in the room.

Jimmy was a rough-around-the-edges Texan who walked the streets of D.C. in cowboy boots and viewed the world through a lens of relentless advocacy. To those who didn't know him, he was a mystery. To those of us privileged enough to be in his inner circle, he was a mentor, a "wordsmith," and a fiercely loyal friend.

A Life Poured Into Policy

Jimmy didn’t just work in men’s health; men’s health ran through his veins. He was an institution in the D.C. policy world, possessing a "rolodex" (or Jimmy’s program of choice: Microsoft’s Access Database) of contacts that was second to none. If there was a partner needed for a project, Jimmy knew them. If there was a door that seemed locked, Jimmy had the key.

His fingerprints are on the very foundation of the modern men's health movement:

• The Catalyst: He was instrumental in starting the APHA Men’s Health Caucus and a leader in getting the Congressional Men’s Health Caucus off the ground.

• The Innovator: He was the brains behind June’s Men’s Health Month and the creator of the Congressional health screenings—programs that have saved lives by bringing health equity directly to the people.

• The Guiding Light: He served as a quiet force behind the international men's health movement, shaping policy with a "wordsmith’s" precision in every grant and proposal he touched.

The Mentor in the Corner

Jimmy’s greatest legacy isn't a bill or a caucus; it’s the people he built up. He had a unique philosophy on leadership: he wanted to be invisible so that we could be seen.

He gave every staff member and intern—no matter how junior—the opportunity to work alongside Congressional leaders and key figures. He took us under his wing and showed us that the world was bigger and more complex than we had known. He taught us to see both sides of every story, famously saying, “You don’t know until you see both sides.”

When Jimmy believed in you, the world opened up. He was a man of few confidants, and he didn't trust easily—but if you earned that trust, he had your back no matter what.

Midnight Emails and Diet Coke

Jimmy was a man of high-level policy and low-maintenance tastes. He was famously fueled by Diet Coke, ice cream, and Cheetos.

Even when he was sick, Jimmy was a fixture at the office, working away in his seat. We all grew accustomed to his middle-of-the-night emails—rambling, "out-of-left-field" rants that arrived at 3:00 AM. They were legendary. They were often far-fetched, occasionally confusing, but they always, somehow, circled back to the heart of the matter. They were the sound of a mind that never stopped fighting for the cause.

Carrying the Torch

Jimmy Boyd hated recognition. He didn't want the plaques or the podiums. He wanted the work to get done, and he wanted the next generation of advocates to be the ones to do it.

There will never be another Jimmy. There won’t be another man who can navigate a Congressional briefing or men’s health conference and a bag of Cheetos with the same level of intensity. But because he touched so many lives, his "opinions" aren't gone. They live on in the policies and programs he developed, the men’s health programs he founded, and the mentors he trained.

We miss the midnight emails. We miss the ramblings. I miss the way he wouldn’t say “hello” when he’d answer my phone calls but rather “how you doin’?” in his Texas accent. I know my dog misses Jimmy for his peanut butter treats because he was with Jimmy since the day I got him. But mostly, we miss the man in the corner who made us all better than we thought we could be.

In honor of Jimmy’s legacy, we encourage you to continue the work of advocacy he started. Jimmy wouldn't want a moment of silence; he’d want us to get back to work.

By Ana Fadich - Tomšić