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Don James |
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May 29, 1935 ~ March 30, 2018 |
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April 2, 2018 |
Don James, 82, passed away on Good Friday, March
30, 2018 after a short fight against cancer; and
just like that, the book of the life of Don and
his wife Judy ended. But written on those pages
is an amazing story that lives on through the
lives of his seven children, who learned
firsthand from a man who loved life, cared for
his friends and neighbors, worked hard, and
laughed harder.
The early chapters of Don’s life set him on a
path of adventures and exploration.
 Born
May 29, 1935 in Marion, Indiana to Don and Alice
James, Don grew up in the exciting tumultuous
times of Sputnik and the Mercury space program.
As a teenager, he and his friends would make
rockets out of iron pipe, carefully mixing
liquid rocket fuel on the stove in the basement.
Sometimes those rockets blew up on the pad, but
it was only after finding shrapnel embedded in
the nearby trees that the group decided that,
just like the rocket scientists they emulated,
perhaps they should take cover during launches.
In high school, Don excelled at athletics and
academics. He was a star football and basketball
player and he earned a scholarship to Ball State
University for basketball, where he attended for
one year. After that year, though, he moved on
to the Rochester (New York) Institute of
Technology and earned his degree in electrical
engineering. It was truly his calling.
In 1957, Don married Judy and the two combined
forces to write chapter after chapter of how to
live life without fear or regret. From moving
across the country to take a job with Ball
Brothers “Bomb and Rocket Works” in California,
to trekking to Colorado, Minnesota, Michigan and
then back to Colorado, it was all about just
picking a direction and going. The night before
moving from New York to California, Don rebuilt
the driveshaft of the car he and Judy would
take. Of course, the car made the trip without a
hitch. In 1975, fed up with the life in Detroit,
the couple packed up six kids and two dogs,
drove out to the interstate and flipped a coin –
heads to Maine, tails to Colorado. It was tails,
and the Estes Park, Colorado chapter began.
In Colorado, Dad commuted to work every day, 36
miles up and down the canyon from Estes Park to
Longmont (and later Frederick, Colorado). He got
to know the state troopers on that stretch well,
even getting an autographed poster from one of
them. His love for driving and cars made that
commute bearable. He ran his own engineering
company for much of the time, taking jobs in
California, Boulder, Colorado, and other places.
He was the one people called to solve their
engineering problems.
He was also the one that his kids called to help
solve their problems. Whether it was trying to
figure out why a ceiling fan slowed down when
you dimmed the lights, or working to rewire a
burnt out wiring harness in a 1979 Subaru wagon,
Dad knew the answers.
Dad used his degree and his brilliant mind, to
help solve many problems. He holds half a dozen
patents. He helped invent electronic devices
that are commonly used today, from muscle STEM
and TENS units to the ankle monitoring systems
used to keep track of people on home detention,
his fingerprints are everywhere. His philosophy
was “make it work” and that’s what he did. He
made do with what he had to solve the problems
he faced and he taught that work ethic to all of
us. When he needed to test the range of signal
on his ankle monitoring system, he strapped
prototypes to his kids and sent us off to play
in the backyard of the house in Estes Park. He
knew that duct tape fixes anything. He also
believed in being accountable for what you did.
In 1967, an ad campaign ran in newspapers across
the country telling people to take their car
keys with them. “Don’t help a good boy go bad,”
the ad preached. Dad scoffed because he knew the
only person responsible for a “good boy” going
bad was that boy himself. Dad did right because
that was the right thing to do. He knew you
didn’t steal a car because the keys were inside.
You don’t take things that don’t belong to you.
You work hard, and just to make sure, he always
said, “give people a little more than they
expect, every time.”
Dad wasn’t what you’d expect all the time. As an
engineer, he had a very logical side to him, but
he also loved music and had a sense of humor all
his own. Many nights, he would sit by the stereo
with his headphones plugged in listening to Stan
Kenton, or Pink Floyd, or Glen Miller, the Alan
Parsons Project or maybe even the Dr. Demento
show on the radio. Sometimes he’d put in
recordings of old radio shows like The Shadow
(Who knows what lurks in the minds of men?….
“The Shadow Do.” He’d say). Years later, when
his 40-year-old headphones finally wore out, Dad
looked up the company and wrote it a letter
praising the high quality sound he got from
their product. Two weeks later, he received a
package from that company – a brand-new pair of
40-year-old headphones someone found in the
warehouse.
(This account continues below this
photograph)
During a week of rainy weather in Estes Park,
Dad announced to the family that we were going
to “go find the sun” and loaded everyone up into
the red and white VW microbus we had at the time
and off we went. We may not have actually found
the sun that day, but we drove all over looking
for it. There wasn’t a mining road Dad wouldn’t
take or an open gate he wouldn’t go through in
his quest for a great picnic spot or hiking
trail. He loved finding new places like Gold
Hill near Boulder, where the family sat on a
blanket in the woods enjoying a picnic lunch and
watching the clouds roll over. On these quests,
the perfect spot was always “just over the next
sand dune.” Even when the dog got skunked.
Twice. Or the rain clouds rolled in. Or the gate
got locked behind us, cutting off the way out.
Dad was a pilot (“a good one, too”), and he flew
his family across the country. There were times
he’d sit in his office or at the kitchen table
with an aircraft radio listening to the pilots
talk to the control tower. His favorite book,
Ernest K. Gann’s Fate is the Hunter,
tells the story of the burgeoning commercial
airline industry and all of its dangers and
comedies of errors. The underlying theme of that
book, though, guided Dad through life – there is
no controlling when it is your time, so make the
most of each day. Be a lunar photographer. Take
time to search for things that make you go
“EEEEYOD!” Fix what needs to be fixed. Say what
needs to be said. Above all, help those who need
help.
After all seven of their kids grew up, Dad and
Mom moved to Bonners Ferry, Idaho to write the
next chapter. Dad brought his big-block
Chevrolet Chevelle and joined the Rod Benders
Car Club. He helped organize the Borders 3
Jamboree car show in Bonners Ferry, and he loved
cruising all over creation in that bright red,
powerful muscle machine. He smiled every time he
“got on it” and the cowl induction hood opened
up and the engine roared. He knew that if you
didn’t drive it, what was the fun of having it?
During the summers, he’d drive the Chevelle down
to the tennis courts and play his favorite game.
He could watch, play, or talk about tennis
anytime, anywhere. He watched NASCAR and shot
hoops with his grandchildren.
Idaho gave him his adventure. Hikes in the woods
with his Woolies (malamutes Kayla and Kiska),
his grandkids, his friends and family. Sometimes
the dogs brought back random elk or deer legs to
gnaw on. Sometimes bears seemed to stalk the
entire group – a moving buffet protected only by
a couple barking guards. But again, not a
logging road was safe and it wasn’t long before
Dad knew the best places to park and hike into
the woods.
The final chapter in Dad’s life was sudden and
unexpected. Judy died in January. Dad died just
a few weeks later. He told one of his children a
couple of weeks before he died that he had other
plans, but that wasn’t on the table now. He also
said he wasn’t afraid.
Of course he wasn’t afraid. His next adventure
put him back together with his beloved wife in a
place where they could hike, play tennis, and
explore again all without pain or worry. He
probably met up with Pierre, his son-in-law, for
a rousing game of Euchre against Saint Peter and
Saint Paul. I bet it’s still possible to live in
a tree or be “green and leafy” in that game,
even in Heaven.
His legacy lives on as all of his children
learned to give a bit more than what was
expected, to fix what’s broken and when you come
to a fork in the road, take it. He and Mom
certainly raised us right. Dad, you’ve passed
the baton to seven children to live your legacy
and write their own books. While we can’t call
you with questions about wiring or cars, we can
always reach out and remember your smile, your
generosity and your love.
Life is what happens
When you’re making other plans.
Fate is the hunter.
Don is survived by his sister Mary, his children
Chris (and Jennifer) James, Nancy (and Rob)
Christensen, Robert (and Apryl) James, Eric
James, Joann (and Danny) Davis, David (and
Raelene) James, and Susan Perney, along with
grandchildren Jessica James, Mica and Eliza
James, Zach, Rebekah, Katie and Joe James, and
Alec Perney.
A celebration of life memorial get-together will
be held at 5:00 p.m. Wednesday, April 4 at the
Chic ‘n Chop in Bonners Ferry, and another
memorial will be held in Estes Park, Colorado at
a later date.
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