Remembering Jim

Eulogy - By Emily Marie Coffee

Dear family and friends,
We are gathered here today to honor the life of James Allen Coffee. We all know that he was a great person and for all I know a great father. He went to Virginia for parts of 3 years and he sent me many letters.
I remember a lot of things about my Dad. I will tell you 6 of them that I think are most special.
1. I remember us taking long refreshing naps together.
2. I remember lots of breezy cool bicycle rides to the ice cream store.
3. I remember long motorcycle rides where I sat in a sidecar while he raced around the block.
4. I remember some times he would come in my room when I was feeling sad and always cheer me up with a good wallop. That is when he pretended to spank me soundly, but not really, and he always let me wallop him back.
5. I remember long trips to the park and back where we discussed lots of interesting and fun things.
6. I remember after I had gotten ready for bed he would read me a story or 2. Staying with me until I fell asleep was his very favorite thing to do.
I wish that he were here today to see all of his relatives. Thank you for coming to honor my father.
Your friend, Emily Marie Coffee.

Eulogy - By Marie Shea

I would like to speak of the 30 years that I knew Jim, aside from the last 3-4 years when alcohol defined much of his life. Since I knew him, he was a witty and talented writer. He found much to laugh at in life (in fact, we have 3 overflowing file folders called miscellaneous that are filled with oddities found in newspapers and magazines that he found funny). He was a mechanical engineer, which he was very proud of. He had a patent for a computer chip carrier unit that also made him proud. He was a mechanic, a motorcyclist, a hiker and a camper, an enthusiastic vegetable gardener and an enthusiastic cook. In fact, his favorite TV shows, which Emily reminded me of recently, were gardening and cooking shows. He loved playing pool and scuba diving, and he regretted doing less of these and doing too much house remodeling, which he was also very good at. He and I got a good amount of traveling in; we took my mother to Europe some years ago. We also visited central and south America, and visited many or most of the states and parks in the US and Canada. As my husband, he was a very loving, generous, fun, and patient friend and partner. He was also a very good friend to a few people, who remained close friends throughout his life. These include Walter Glab and Bob Clark from Chicago, Ed and Jean Greenhood from Maryland, and Judy Lopes from Massachusetts. In Oregon, he made a true friend in Marlen Bell, who wrote a nice letter describing their friendship that I included in the book marked Memories. He considered my brother John as his closest friend and confidant. Jim had very happy memories of his parents and his upbringing, with the exception of catholic school, though he looked back at that with a sense of humor. He was very proud of the accomplishments of many of his brothers and sisters, and for many years he enjoyed and valued long phone conversations and a rich letter-writing exchange with Kevin. He truly loved and was loved by my family. He remained a very close part of my family despite the divorce one year ago. Finally, in the last 7 years, he was the proudest father that ever lived. Emily was truly his life and has many of his qualities, such as a love of ice cream, pistachios, card games, bicycling, painting and drawing, a touch of cynicism, and a healthy but misguided respect for the Redskins. He sent Emily many wonderful letters and drawings over the last couple of years, and I have also included a few of these in the Memories book. I know that you all have your own fond family memories of the old Jim, and I thank each of you for your support for me and for Emily since his death.

The Legend of Brother Jim - by Tom Coffee

Being the youngest of the Coffee brothers, I was separated in age from Jim by 13 years, so by the time I was only three years old, Jim had gone to boarding school and then after that, into the army to be stationed in Germany. So for most of my life, my experience of my oldest brother was in small but ever so precious periods of time when he would come for the Christmas holidays or stop off on his way through town on his motorcycle on one of his many, many cross-country adventures. So for those reasons, to the young boy that I was, my oldest brother became more of a legend than a regular family member. I always waited with great anticipation for him to come for the Christmas holiday, because I knew that nobody could lead a neighborhood snowball fight like Jim could, he was bold and outspoken and could always, always diffuse the situation if things went a little overboard, with his infectious sense of humor.
I always hung on every word he said, partly because I knew that the time I would have with him would be so brief, but mostly because I truly did admire him in so many ways, just as I have always admired all of my brothers who have in each there own way so profoundly influenced my upbringing through some of the hardest years of adolescence and on into my adult life.
I also vividly remember his love of cars and motorcycles, one of my earliest memories is of the driveway of our house in Highland Park, lined with various cars in various stages of repair, the late fifties chevys, fords Plymouths, whatever. I do remember the garage nearly burning to the ground as the result of those activities. Also indelibly etched in my memory, was a very very quick ride in an infamous 69 Plymouth Roadrunner, at speeds that I had never even dreamed about moving at, at the age of nine.
I also was exposed to the joys of fast things on two wheels, what a moto guzzi was and the historical significance of the Kawasaki 500 Mach III, with it’s three inline cylinder 2 stroke engine and electronic ignition.

One way Jim changed my life, which I don’t know if he even realized, was by the music he exposed me to, he had such an open minded and eclectic appreciation of music that invariably, each time I saw him in my teen years and beyond, he would tell me about a new style, band or performer that he was listening to, whether it was Andre Segovia’s classical Spanish guitar or Tom Wait’s gravel voiced storytelling or the wild world of Frank Zappa’s music. It seemed that every time Jim turned me on to something musical, that I would find something new to immerse myself into and expand my horizons with. Music has always been a huge part of my life and Jim was a huge influence on my appreciation for it.
I would definitely say the same thing for my sense of humor. Humor was something we used in our family to help ease our way through the tougher times, to help dispel some of the frustration, that can arise in a family like ours. I must say in all honesty that it was probably also the tool used to instigate more than a few minor fights between the siblings, but that’s the way it was, we all had to develop a quick wit just to defend ourselves through an average family meal. It really is something that is at the heart of what being a Coffee kid was all about, having a keen wit, an appreciation for a good practical joke, a few funny voices at the ready for whatever the situation might demand, and a good hearty laugh. And Jim was undoubtedly the ringleader and grandmaster, he was never at a loss there and you could tell by the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes that you were about to be treated to yet another dose of Jimmy’s infectious sense of humor.
It was the combination of all these things, that to a young boy growing up, made for a legend of a big brother. And it quite telling thing about Jim to realize that a man who actually I saw very little of, had such a huge impact on my life and who I became as an adult. Even though I will miss him terribly along with everyone else who’s lives he touched, I will always continue to feel that he is such a big part of my life.
It will of course, be hard for all of us to get through the realization of loosing someone dear to us who, if going by his age, should have been with us for many years to come. But those who were close to Jim might be more familiar with the struggle that he faced over the years and finally lost. Even though I may not have had a great deal of time with Jim over the years, I, and my brothers do know what it meant to be a Coffee boy and along with the joys, the burdens that were part and parcel of that, and we all have a part of what Jim was, in us. I will always honor the man for his courage, his forthrightness and his kindness.

California Road Trip '85 - by Tom Coffee

The photo on the first page was taken in a restaurant somewhere on the coast of California. I had moved to L.A. in '85 and Jim had flown out to visit. He had the idea of renting a nice new Camaro, a red one, and driving up the coast to San Francisco. Halfway up the coast, in the middle of nowhere, there was a traffic jam going up a long hill. We were sitting there with hundreds of other cars on a two lane highway, miles from the nearest gas station so Jim decided he should turn off the car and save fuel. Some time later when the cars ahead started to move again, he went to start the car and realized that the key was stuck in the ignition switch and wouldn't budge. This was due to the combination of the steep incline and ingenious Chevrolet engineering. After a mild panic and several cars having to snake around us on this narrow mountain pass, I remembered something I saw on a t.v. cop show and reached over from the passenger side, grabbed the wheel and gave it a hearty yank. A loud snap, some plastic bits flying around and two smirks later, we were on our way. Unknown to us at this time was that the same brilliant engineers that I spoke of earlier had decided to route the electric engine cooling fan through the ignition switch... and it stopped working after I snapped the lock. As we wound our way through the California hills behind the snake of traffic, the temperature gauge climbed steadily. Eventually steam started rising from under the hood of this once sleek red sports car, but we had no choice but to press on. We limped along for many miles until we could find a phone to call the rental agency (not everyone had cell phones in '85). We actually found another office of the car rental agency in a town ahead and eventually push what was left of the Camaro into the lot and politely explained to the clerk that, the car just self destructed and of course we had no idea how this happened, "why you'd think a fancy new American sports car like this would run like a top, just mystifying"... anyway, this might have been an inspiration for the movie "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles", but we drove out of there, two six foot plus men, crammed into a Chevette, and not even a new one, but a dingy gray beat up Chevette! I remember Jim being just a bit testy after that, but we did have a good laugh about it eventually.

The Great Frederick Refridgerator Stampede - As retold by Todd Koldewey

For those of you old and classy enough to remember, this story is best read/heard after watching Arlo Guthrie’s Restaurant Massacre scene in the movie “Alice’s Restaurant.” I’m pretty sure that it had an influence on Jim’s story telling. For a character reference, you might consider the relationship between Peabody and Sherman – I’ll let you figure out who’s who. We’ll set the Wayback Machine for May, 1978.

Jim and I were in my 1977 VW Rabbit one particularly beautiful morning, travelling down Md. Route 28 on our way to work at the power plant. About five miles from the plant, there’s an old steel suspension bridge that crosses the Monocacy River just before the river passes under the C&O canal aqueduct then empties into the Potomac River. A small, well-kept picnic area and boat ramp lies on the gentle slope alongside Rt. 28; quite scenic. Just as we approach the end of the bridge Jim says in his best deep and concerned Frederick County redneck voice:

Jim: Must’a been a stampede! Look at ‘em lying over dere all shot up dead.

Me: Huh?

Jim: The refrigerators! I can just see how this went down

Just then I saw it. We passed it every day but I suppose that on this particularly beautiful day it caught Jim’s eye and that’s all it took. In a clearing, not too far from the end of the bridge in what would otherwise be a pristine wooded setting, was a pile of 20 to 30 refrigerators, window air conditioners and stoves complete with hundreds of bullet holes carefully placed by Frederick County’s finest cheap beer drinkers and marksmen.

Jim: I was just a-drivin’ through the woods in my favorite huntin’ pick-em-up truck. ‘Ya know, the four- wheel drive Ford with 760 horsepower motor and the 47 500 watt quartz-halogen searchlights and the custom mud flaps, roll bar, gun rack and primer grey paint job?

Me: Uh-huh.

Jim: Well, it wuz jest as the sun wuz a-settin’ and I stopped to wizz-off my last case of PBR when I heard a rustlin’ over yonder behind me. I started to look around and I could hear it off farther in the woods a bit then suddenly it poked out from behind that big ole sycamore with the family history of Jennie Mae carved in it.

Me: Yeah Jim? Wut were it?

Jim: It were the biggest damn Kelvinator I ever saw! Musta bin 50 cubic feet with one a doze ice makers!

Me (maybe you’re beginning to see the complex role I played in this story): What’d ya do!?

Jim: I runs back to da truck and I grabs mah trusty ole elefunt huntin’ gun. ‘Ya know, the one mah Uncle Remus gimme with the 90X scope.

Me: Uhhhh-huh?

Jim: Well I got lined up on it but it made a fancy moved jest as I let go, and I missed. It were mad! It’s door swung open and it wuz a-commin’ ta git me. I didn’t think I could re-load in time but the dear Lord wuz wit me and I got the shot off. Hit it right square in deh compressor! My gawd, there wuz Freon everywhere! But that’s when the ground started a shakin’ and off in deh distance I cud see a huge cloud a dust tru duh trees. Den I saw the white, almond and avacado outlines tru deh dust and I screamed “IT”S A STAMPEDE!” Lucky fer me, cuzins Billy Bob, Wilbur, Delmar, Ernie, Lucius and Delmar (Jim actually used the names of some of the finer personnel we knew from the plant) wuz down in dah river in deh swamp boat and deh heard mah shots and mah holler. Deh wuz huntin’ crayfish so of course deh had all dere big guns wid ‘em. Oh the humanity! Dere wuz ice cube trays, butter dishes, warshin’ machine tubs and heatin’ elements as far as the eye cud see! Duh rivah wuz a wall-o-foam from the detergent dat wuz spilt. All I kin say is it wuz a good thing dat the boys wuz dere cuz if dem refrigerators had-a made it to Dickerson and broke a loose da Hotpoints Ernie had penned up behind his shed, all hell woodah broke loose!

Me: Oh my gawd!

And that friends, is the legend of the Great Frederick Refrigerator Stampede.