Ode to James Tolkan (From a Slacker)

In Memory of James Tolken (June 20, 1931 – March 26, 2026)

Yo, Mr. Strickland—James Tolkan, sir,
You balding force of nature, full of fire.
You stared down Marty, called his old man slack,
And told young Biff he’d never amount to jack.
“Slacker!” you barked like thunder in the hall,
While I was busy napping through it all.

You patrolled the halls of Hill Valley High,
Making sure no one dared to even try
To skate by lazy, dreaming of the mall—
You’d confiscate my hoverboard... if I had one at all.
In Top Gun too, you drilled those pilots straight,
No room for quitters or a sloppy fate.

From Woody Allen flicks to Dick Tracy schemes,
You brought that gravel voice and laser-beam
Intensity that made us squirm and grin.
You played the lawman, the principal, the kin—
A Strickland through the ages, tough as nails,
While I just hit snooze and chased my fails.

James Tolkan, you left us on March twenty-six,
At ninety-four, in Saranac Lake’s quiet mix.
No more “You don’t have a chance, McFly!”
But your glare lives on in every kid who tries
To slack their way through life with zero plan—
We hear your voice: “Shape up, or hit the can!”

Rest easy, sir. From this eternal slacker’s seat,
Thanks for the lectures that still hit so sweet.
I’ll get my act together... probably next week.
Maybe. After one more Mountain Dew and a re-watch of the trilogy.