‘Uncle Jim’ Widick: A Euology

[My eulogy to my father, James Raymond Widick, who passed away on December 1, 2023.]

In honor of Taylor Swift, the 2nd biggest Chief’s fan (behind my Dad), we’ll call this the ‘Eras Tour of James Raymond Widick.’

The three eras are:

1. The Jimmy Ray era
2. The Jimmy (or just Jim) era; and
3. The Uncle Jim era (which also includes the PaPa Jim Era).

… and we’ll cover some lessons learned in each of those eras as well.

The first era is the “Jimmy Ray” Era

Though he was born in Kansas City, Kansas, my dad spent his early years in Northwestern Arkansas, living with his grandparents, my great grandparents, Ernest “Ernie” Emert Patrick and Ethel Iona “Ona” Cantrel Patrick. My great grandmother was a wonderful lady and offered Dad a loving home as best she could. This era was a little tough for young Jimmy Ray, but there were good memories and lessons as well.

The Patricks lived in an old farmhouse — with an outhouse at the beginning — about 30 miles south of Branson, Mo. Dad was baptized in Crooked Creek, which winds its way through the tiny town. He attended grade school in a one-room schoolhouse, and was at times the only person in his grade. (By the way … this would be the last era in which Jimmy would ever be at the top of the class in scholarship.)

Lessons from this Northwest Arkansas town? I think my dad learned to enjoy solitude, whether while milking Ol’ Brownie the cow, or trudging off alone to school. While later in life he enjoyed a career in sales and interacting with people, he could spend a lot of time alone and be fine with that.

In those early days, he also laid the foundation for his faith. Now, he didn’t always practice that faith, but it was always there. While going through his things, I picked out an old family Bible to keep for myself, and then donated at least 6 more back to his church. In a few of those – and many others of his books – Dad had slipped in a $2 bill for a bookmark or perhaps a rainy-day fund of some sort. So another lesson when going through your parent’s stuff: check for hidden bookmarks!

That brings us to the Jimmy Era

From Arkansas, he moved back to the Kansas City area and attended William Chrisman High School, graduating in 1960. He was on the football team, though I don’t think he played much. But he did some acting, and it’s something I hear he was good at. While going through his things last month, I found that he still had his program from appearing in “Inherit the Wind.”

At Chrisman, while many of his friends were striving for the Principal’s honor roll, Dad would say that he was at the top of the “Vice-Principal’s” list. One such Vice Principal was LeRoy Brown, who 25 years later would be my Principal at Truman High School. At one Truman basketball game, Mr. Brown chastised a rowdy group of friends – me included – for our behavior. At the next game, some of us showed up in Boy Scout uniforms to show we had reformed. When I asked Mr. Brown — in a smart-aleck tone — if our behavior was better, he replied, “Well Jimmy, I don’t rightly know.” “Jimmy!” I said. “Do you still remember my dad that well?” “Oh boy, do I ever,” said Mr Brown. Years later, at our 30-year reunion, Mr. Brown was a guest of our class and sat at a table with Susan and me. “How’s Jimmy?” he asked. Dad left his mark on the old vice principal.

Dad would lose his father and grandparents in this era. But he would gain family as well. He married my Mom in 1964 and gained step-daughters Pam and Kathy, and treasured brothers and sisters-in-law. I came along in 1967.

Lessons learned from this era? Leave your mark. Whether that be on the Vice Principals, or on your classmates, or on your family … leave your mark. And save things. Like your programs from Inherit the Wind. Or your father’s paystubs from the railroad. Or your own first check from Stephenson’s Restaurant. (And yes, he still had all of those things.) And so many more things. And now I have those things. And also, cherish the little things. Like Dixons Chili, and Stephenson’s restaurant, and Gates barbecue.

The final era is the Uncle Jim Era

Dad moved to Texas in the 1980s and would marry Anna Garza in 1984. With that, he gained 6 more sisters-in-law and their spouses, plus four stepsons. Dad worked for many car dealerships in Corpus Christi and then El Paso, and then back in Corpus. And, as we know, car salesmen don’t always have the best reputation. But I was struck by the number of people on Facebook and in-person who said they wouldn’t buy a car from anybody in south Texas but their Uncle Jim. That’s what everybody called him … Uncle Jim.

Dad also became PaPa Jim during this era. And though his own rough childhood and lack of good examples wouldn’t always allow him to display it, he was immensely proud of his granddaughters and daughter-in-law back home in KC. The extended family and friends in Corpus made sure I knew that, and they wanted me to pass it along.

Lessens learned in this era? Keep your faith. You’ll always have that. Keep all the things (I’m not sure that is always good, but he did keep the things.) Stay loyal to your roots. Yes, he was down there in Texas. But he was so proud of home. Deep in Dallas Cowboys territory, he wore his Chiefs shirts and jackets with great pride.

And finally, and maybe his most important lesson is this: Anybody can be family. Whether they be former stepdaughters or in-laws in your hometown, or stepsons and in-laws in your large adopted Hispanic family in South Texas … and even if they are customers who affectionately call you Uncle … anybody can be family, and that’s an important lesson from Dad.