Obituary for James A. Goodrich

Jim was a foundational stone in the formation of my childhood adventures and unsung list of hero’s. He had a man cave before they were fashionable and I fondly remember breaking open peanuts and giving them to him just so I could throw the shells in the wood burning stove. I remember him loving those monster bucks that sheltered on their land, refusing to allow anyone to hunt them. His amazingly broken in hat and boots. Walking the property when he had cows and the huge garden. Feeding the fish in his pond. Having to eat all of grandmas pickled beets that I put on my plate because they looked beautiful but I didn’t like them. Learning to love tomatoes and the time in the evening before bed when he ate butter on saltine crackers or the roasted jar of peanuts by his recliner while watching the game. His bigger than life voice and his early to rise breakfasts that he always made for grandma (he only ate dinner) before he went into town to get the paper and chat over coffee in town. I have not seen him in years but I will never forget him and am happy that he was able to live out his years as he wanted. At home.