James Michael Gilligan

Correct, we would have also accepted any of his affectionate nicknames, Jimmy, Uncle Jimbo, Pops, Dad, Jim

Dad remembered his childhood in the 50s and 60s very fondly and would describe it as idyllic. He spent his time in the close knit town of Sistersville, outside, riding bikes or playing sports with my Uncles Rob and Tom, visiting his Granny and Gramps at their farm in Clay County, or reading, which was very important to his mom, our Granny, a librarian. While Granny said girls were too much work and boys were easy, she certainly had her work cut out for her. When the boys took up smoking, they'd eat raw onion to help cover up the smell of cigarettes. I don't know which smell would've been worse, but the combination of the two must've been awful.

Though his grades didnt always show it, he was very smart. He had a great interest in history and truly deserved his Golden Horseshoe in terms of both knowledge and pride for the state. After his stroke, mom and I would test him on county seats and state capitals, and he really knew his stuff! When Uncle Tom got a D sent home from WVU, Dad's parents sent him to Linsly Military Academy to finish high school. He thought his life was over, but refused to admit he hated it, so instead he returned home and regaled his family with tales of his uproarious life in the military. He made it sound so fun, Uncle Rob decided to go to Linsly. Christmas of HIS freshmen year, he wept and asked to come home. Dad missed out on that opportunity. Maybe all the punishment duty served him well in the end. Melissa's favorite reason that he was given punishment duty was for smoking a cigarette while swinging the swinging bridge.

After spending some time at WVU and then graduating from West Virginia Wesleyan, he toyed around with being a writer or a lawyer or a politician, went through several entry level jobs, messed around with real estate, and tried out being an owner/operator of a pizza shop. He thought he really made it when he got a job at Buckeye Savings and Loan, but when he applied for a mortgage, they denied his application for insufficient income. He was full of potential but listless and didn't know what he wanted to pursue in his 20s.

He managed to end up at PPG as a security guard, where he met many wonderful people, including, thank goodness, my mother. Her ample direction became the north star by which he navigated his path forward. He was cleared of debt within two years time, and by all accounts the rowdy midnight rider became a loving husband and father. His orneriness would come in the form of going off-list at Kroger, poking us during Mass, or throwing ice cold water over the shower door when one of us was bathing.

After Melissa was born, he described himself as a helicopter parent, and as evidenced by the vast quantity of home movies and photo albums we sorted through over the past few days, he became the resident documemtarian.

He loved having kids and grandkids. He loved playing and roughhousing when we were younger...you could find us wrestling on the floor in the living room most nights, until one or more of us would cry out, "I surrender, Dorothy!" And although whenever Mom would ask us "why are you inside, it's so nice outside?" and dad would say "let's leave it out then" he would go and play soccer or baseball or whatever with us, including countless beach trips playing in the ocean and lying on the sand. He coached soccer and Odyssey of the Mind, helped Tim with his paper route, and went to father daughter dances, not because he liked sports or dancing or traipsing around the neighborhood with a satchel of newspapers while Tim kept all his earnings, but because he wanted to help raise his kids, and he was good at it. He was always ready to take our side in a fight with a friend or get defensive on our behalf if we were upset with a coach or teacher and would sometimes teach us terrible things to call people we were upset with. He taught his grandchildren to blow raspberries as soon as they were old enough. It's made them very popular at daycare. He loved when Ben referred to him as his best friend. He loved sharing their pictures on Facebook and would thank them for all the Likes he was getting. He was a really good dad. The best.

He was an effortlessly good writer, as many of you know being recipients of his famous Christmas Letter. The three of us children fancy ourselves to have some of his talent. We each contributed to his obituary and this eulogy. The best parts were written by me.

We kids wanted to make him proud with our accomplishments, our cooking, or how smart we are - maybe beat him to a Jeopardy! answer or fill in a crossword puzzle clue while he wasnt looking - but more than that, we wanted to make him laugh. He had a great laugh- especially if he and his brothers all got going at once - like a trio of hyenas, and he had the best sense of humor.

In the beginning, mom said she was in it for the laughs, not the love, but the love certainly came. He was a good husband. He might lose his cool or get impatient sometimes, but he was a good husband, raised to be that way by his mom. He believed that our Mom also rubbed off on him and made him a better person in terms of doing the right thing, saying yes more and no less, and upping his involvement with the church. He loved to tease her and would get her started singing almost any song by mentioning a few lines of lyrics or humming a few bars. Mom would take off singing and then Dad would point out she was singing the wrong words and we would all laugh and laugh. He loved to stay home and she loved to go out, but he was a good sport. He went to a lot of terrible (in his opinion) musical concerts, magical acts, sporting events, and once at Walt Disney World he sat outside in 4,000 degree heat watching Michael Flatley, the Lord of the Dance. He was a puddle of sweat by the end. Once we were all out of the house and independent, Mom and Dad started traveling a lot more. Dad would come back from a trip and always say "I thought about it. Your mother is a handful, but I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

They would have been married 40 years on October 8th. 40 years is certainly a long time, but 50 or 60 would've been better.

He said he cheated death twice between his heart attack at 48 and his stroke last year. We've been saying it was probably a lot more times than twice.. Times he canoed in the river, whatever experiences he had in the 70s..He also had a little Rancheroo tiny truck that he somehow drove under an 18 wheeler and had nary a scratch afterward although the top half of the truck was missing and the car was totaled.

We were all thankful for the bonus time after Germany, allowing him to meet his 3rd grandchild and to truly live life to the fullest he could. we're also grateful that because of his stroke and the unique circumstances involved, he knew how loved he was.

I'll close with some things our dad taught us whether he told us or showed us

Don't play on the stairs.

Don't comment on or yuck what someone else is eating.

Don't talk badly about someone else's parents to them.

Keep your eyes on the road - if you are looking at something off to the right or left, your car will drift in that direction.

If you see fewer than 3 cop cars across from the Haven Inn in Glen Dale, slow down. Someone is out patroling.

Try not to be a wallflower. You might miss out.

Be confident. Do the crossword puzzle in pen. Bet it all on the Daily Double.

Always ask your kids how their car is running when they call home.

When saving up your spare change for a special occasion, don't take it all to the bank in one trip.

If you realize you've gone to the wrong person's funeral visitation, stop and pay your respects anyway.

If you're eating a charcuterie board and one of the soft cheeses is particularly good and creamy, it might just be butter.

You're never too old to learn a new instrument, to join the SAR, get a new knee, lose a hundred pounds, build an internet following with your jokes, find your faith, invest in your marriage, travel the world... but you can be too old to retire and then try to work on an assembly line for your retirement job - he was much more suited for wholesale flower delivery.

He will be missed everyday by all he's left behind, his kindess, his smile. but we'll get by with faith and humor, trying to make each other laugh and hoping he is laughing too. Jewish tradition is to say, "May his memory be a blessing." We certainly feel as though his memory is a blessing and hope that you all can find solace in his memory as well.