James Morrison Mayo, Jr......Devoted Son and Grandson, Beloved Brother, Loving Father, Admired Uncle, and one of the Best Friends a person could ever have. All of these things and more comprised the character of this man who loved the simple things of life and was quietly comfortable in his devotion to God.
My brother, you've gone from our midst and the vacancy you leave in our lives will now have to be filled with our memories. Memories of a little boy in Oklahoma City who, at a very early age, chose Mickey Mouse as his alter ego. Daddy never COULD get used to calling you "Jim," could he? But you didn't mind -- look at the toys in your "playroom" -- all your life it was always you and Mickey Mouse.
How many people were aware of your talent and creativity? Did it have its beginnings under the catalpa tree in the front yard, building little roads for your toy cars with your older sister, Pat? The surface roots of that tree never presented real problems for long --- only opportunities for the advanced engineering of a four-year-old: build a bridge here, a levee there . . . create a masterpiece!
As your younger sisters and brother came along, you're imagination turned to creating happiness for them . . . you, again with the assistance of your older sister, built toys, furniture, even a child-sized roadster, for the little ones' entertainment.
As we grew up, you were always there, being the steady, strong and ever-faithful big brother. Many a problem that one of us had was resolved while riding beside you in your always-clean, shiny, squeak-free car, you patiently listening and offering the wisdom that only a big brother could give . . . along with that unconditional love that we always knew went along with the advice.
Your first job was with a local grocery store as a sack boy. You loved that work, because you could spend time chatting with the people who came in to shop. Your employers always praised you because of your dependability and friendliness.
Your dependability was always there for your parents, too. As the Bible talks about honoring your Father and your Mother, your life was a testimony to that scripture. Your first income tax refund was spent on buying Momma her much needed glasses. And that was merely the beginning of your generosity toward them. Not only was at least one complete Christmas for the little kids supplied by "Santa-Claus-Jim," but your time and talents were always available to both Momma and Daddy, whether it was for the advice and help on car repairs or getting in and helping with household needs. And, of course, you were always there with your listening heart.
After Daddy passed away, you took on the role of Man of the Family and did the job proudly. Momma came to depend upon you for so much, and you never let her down. Your place in her life will be extremely hard to fill. The evenings you spent with her, the conversations you shared, those things will be missed so very much.
You lived for your family . . . your childhood family and the family you and Frances built from your marriage. The home movies are there to show the world how you loved each and every little delight your children experienced on Christmas mornings, their birthdays, any occasion that brought happiness to their hearts. You were devoted to your grandchildren, and as they came along, life just became more and more fun for you, because you truly enjoyed seeing life through their eyes.
You WERE a man with a desire for the simple life. I will always treasure the hours we spent out in the middle of Okmulgee Lake, sitting in that little fishing boat we both loved so dearly, waiting to catch "the big one." We never did catch even much of a "middle-sized one," but that was okay. We would have thrown it back, anyway. What we did "catch" was an opportunity to develop a friendship that few grown-up sisters and brothers have a chance to find. That friendship has sustained me over many a rough place, and what I learned from it will continue to help me as I go on.
You've said so many times as we sat under a shade tree, anchored in a cove, sipping a cold Pepsi, fishing rod in hand . . . "It just doesn't get any better than this."
Well, my precious brother, as you now see, it DOES get better than that! I envision you sitting in the middle of a peaceful lake, bass and catfish abounding, doing what you love best. Save my place for me. I won't be long. Good-bye my brother, for a little while.
Love, Your sister, Sue
* * * A QMS Deezyne * * *