It’s impossible to describe a life of over 80 plus years in just a few paragraphs but I would like to tell you a bit about my partner, Jim Goodsir. Born an intrepid storyteller, Jim’s idea of a great conversation was one that dipped into past adventures and characters he met on his travels.

Born in the Midwest in the early 1940s, Jim was a middle child tucked between an older brother and younger sister. He grew up with parents who allowed him to be a wild kid in a small town, running free through tame woodlands in dairy country. Jim’s childhood stories describe him as the constant creator of minor mayhem. With a slight smile of satisfaction, Jim would launch into another tale perhaps entitled, “The time I fell into the septic tank and thought no one would notice,” or “The time we painted the dog green,” or “The time I rode the motorcycle through the high school hallways while class was in session.” Over time, these stories were shown to be true.

Many of these misadventures resulted in a warmed behind, but on occasion, he would be thrown into a situation that served him. As he told it, one of his neighbors, a retired teacher named Gladys Stare, had the first television in town. Jim and his buddies decided they would influence Gladys, without her knowing, to let them watch her TV. However, Gladys was a firm negotiator and traded them one hour of TV for one hour of reading from her personal library. Jim took her up on the deal and without planning it, fell in love with books and learning.

Jim spoke fondly of working summers as a teenager, staking tobacco, detasseling corn, and trimming Christmas trees, with long hours in the hot sun. He learned how incredibly refreshing the taste of ice water could be.

Jim spent his late teens and early 20s in the Marine Corps. He learned that you never volunteer for anything. We heard hair-raising tales, from the typhoon that ripped transport trucks off the deck of a troop ship he had the misfortune of being assigned, to marrying a woman with two kids, only to discover that she actually had six, and he had to support them on a private’s salary! These stories both ended well. He was below decks when the typhoon blew over and the marriage was short lived.

Subsequent years found Jim trying various trades to make his way. The mid-1970s found him in a blue panel van named Gertrude – one more hippie headed for Humboldt County. Jim found a job at Lazio’s Seafood and this small twist of fate changed his life. Describing himself as having long hair with a chest length beard and looking for all the world like Charles Manson, he started work there shoveling fish guts. He ended up as a clean-cut manager overseeing freezing fish. The feeling of welcome that he felt during his time at Lazio’s was a memory he returned to over and over.

Success followed through the years as he was hired to be General Manager at SeaPro, a large seafood processing company in Seattle, and later, to run summer halibut fisheries with Native corporations on St. George Island in Alaska’s Bering Sea. Jim celebrated all his work years in fisheries as a tribute to the generous support he received from Laurie Lazio and Lazio’s Seafood.

Jim loved to travel and would have loved to travel more. In the early 1980s, he traced his family roots to the Orkney Islands, meeting more Goodsirs than you could shake a stick at. A year or so later, armed with motorcycles, he and his partner at the time, Bonnie, toured Europe for 6 months. Jim savored the sights and sounds of those trips for the rest of his life.

In the mid 1980s, Jim returned to Humboldt County, falling into another joy — Humboldt State University. Majoring in Philosophy and Religious Studies, Jim found kindred souls in his quest for truth and the understanding of himself. Religious Studies professor Duncan Bazemore and his wise wife Loré, as well as religious studies students, provided a mirror to Jim’s world. If asked what religion he followed, Jim would answer that Hinduism came the closest to reflecting his beliefs.

Jim had an artist’s heart. His eye for photography and room design was superb. He passionately built adult-sized rocking animals – lions, giraffes, dinosaurs and dragons. Untrained in drafting designs, he labored slowly with one shape after another until the finished animals matched his internal picture and rocked to perfection. Unfortunately, the business was short-lived because no one in the household possessed the marketing skills to sell the lovely creatures.

My son Ben and I were privileged to be the recipients of Jim’s stories and part of Jim’s life from the late 1980s. He shared his love of agate collecting with us. Days at the beach would end with all of us damp, sandy and full of the best homemade fudge. We had pockets full of shiny agates and stories about how this rock was sitting right there with everybody walking right by it! With lines of agates set across the kitchen table from biggest to smallest and the very best set to the side. Our home was decorated with gallons of agates, vases of agates, baskets of agates.

I was cleaning out a drawer of odds and ends when I ran across a clip Jim used for keys. He had strengthened a part that slid over his belt. I remember his supreme satisfaction over this improvement. You would find nothing ambiguous about Jim. He knew what he liked and was always about the details. He never left the house without his hat, scarf, jacket, cane, gloves and leather bag containing a lucky rock/phone/keys/comb/money clip/wallet. Hours could be spent looking for any missing items before we were free to move about the county.

Coffee was a ritual of extreme importance to Jim. For many years, Jim had favorite coffee shops. At the last, he settled on Cafe Mokka at Finnish Country Sauna and Tubs. The atmosphere reminded him of his travels in Europe. Most days, you could find him at a corner table, comfortably arguing politics with owner Stan and Z, another intrepid Mokka fan. A newspaper, cup of coffee with extra foam and a thumbprint cookie completed the picture.

As Jim’s health worsened, friends stepped in to provide support. Jim began to fall without warning. His very good friend and neighbor, Robert, showed up at any hour to lift Jim back to his feet. Robert built a bench to fit over one of our bathtubs so that there would be no more broken ribs from falls. Our house was rearranged to provide soft landings.

In Jim’s final days, he stood for hours sorting agates and displaying them on shelves. Sometimes dementia will cause a person to be angry and lash out. Instead, Jim wrote mostly unfinished letters to friends and family, telling them how much they meant to him. Every conversation and note ended with the words, “I love you.” Every day, he pondered the blessings of his life. He was very clear that the visits of our friend Loré and his Hospice support staff helped to keep him alive and supported.

Jim died at the end of March 2025. He is survived by his wife Susan and stepson Ben, Brother Fred and Sister Gail as well as extended family. Jim’s parents lived in his memories as did his nephews, Joel and Hunter.

Please, consider celebrating Jim’s life in the way he thought to be most perfect: Tell the story of one of your most outrageous childhood adventures to a friend while you enjoy a cookie and cup of coffee at Cafe Mokka. Go to the beach and see if you can find an agate. Ponder your blessings.

The family thanks Hospice for its support of Jim at the end of his life. We also thank Lost Coast Outpost for allowing us to share Jim’s life with the community. These special gifts are greatly appreciated.

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