Laughter was never far from James

My father-in-law James Pulliam, died Dec. 21. Since he was born June 21, 1920, that gave him the distinction of being born on the longest day of the year and dying on the longest night of the year.
I put together a tribute to him of photos with music. It's posted on YouTube.
Following is a column I wrote for The Oconee Enterprise that was published Jan. 3.

Laughter was never far from James

I honestly can’t remember the first time that I met James Pulliam. Until I fell in love with his daughter, he was more of friend of my parents than to me.

I conjured up a vague recollection of playing on the same softball team with him. But over the past 40 years I was afforded the grand privilege of learning to know and love my father-in-law. He went from being Mr. Pulliam to simply James.

James was an easy person to get to know. He had an infectious, distinctive laugh, and he laughed often. You only needed to hear his laugh to know he was somewhere in the building.

A man who outlives his wife of 44 years and his only son has known some hardship in his 92 years. He may have been wounded, but not scarred. He found great joy in life, and those around him experienced that joy too.

During his working years, he was a meter reader for Georgia Power. For most of his 33 years he walked the streets of Athens. He finished up in the meter shop.

He was an avid gardener. His sweet corn and his tomatoes wound up on many a table, and he even grew his own cantaloupe that was noted for its soft texture. My yard is covered with zoysia grass that came from an early business venture of his.

He was devoted to his church. He was one of the few members who knew every pastor Winterville First Baptist Church had ever had in its 125 years of existence. Figure that one out.

He was a homebody, but he liked exploring too. As a young married couple, he and his first wife, Annie Ruth, took a whirlwind motor tour of the West. Later he and his second bride of 25 years, Glendia, took to the airways.

She even talked him into a snowmobile trip. He was not a friend of cold weather. His first night at the lodge, he looked around and remarked, “I believe I am the oldest fool here.”

He had so much fun that they went back the next year.

I called him James, but his more familiar title was Granddaddy. There may not be a man in America who saw more football, basketball, softball, baseball, soccer, tennis, volleyball and lacrosse games. He loved watching his grandchildren and great-grandchildren compete.

Great-grandson Justin wrote in a school assignment that his granddaddy was his hero because he came to all of his games.

It was Charles McGarity who remarked at the funeral home, “From the first time I met him to the last time I saw him, he always seemed like he was glad to see you.”

For most of his 92 years he was in pretty good health. The last year not so much, particularly the last few weeks.

The last day or two before he died Dec. 21, he spoke with difficulty, often mumbling. One of the last things Glendia heard him say distinctly was, “Hey, y’all come on in.” Those are fitting last words to remember him by.

I don’t know what heaven will be like, but I have a feeling that one of the first words I will hear when I get there will be James saying, “Hey, y’all come on in.”

And then he will laugh.