Pictured on the right in the photo of the two of us, my uncle Jimmy Hughes was my late mother’s last remaining sibling. Jimmy died February 27, 2022 after having fought Alzheimer’s for as long as he could, as did his mother, sister, and two brothers before him. He was 82 years old.
I was asked by Jimmy’s wife of 58 years, Pat, to speak at his funeral service. It was an honor to share a few of the many stories I had about a man who taught me much—about sports, about life in general, and about always knowing and doing the right thing. I idolized Jimmy as a youngster because he seemed to me to be a larger-than-life figure who did everything well, treated people fairly and respectfully, and worked hard to help provide for his widowed mother and himself. And if that wasn’t enough, he was just plain Cool. This was late 1950s and early 1960s Cool, and if you weren’t there at the time, a lengthy blog would be required.
Of my mother’s three brothers, Jimmy and I were the closest in age. He lived near downtown Atlanta and I lived in the suburb of Decatur. We would see each other often on weekends, and we grew close during my school years. He gave me stuff like gloves and balls and caps. He taught me stuff about baseball and girls and how to get along in the world at large. His advice was always welcome, always honest, always meant to help.
Jimmy and I had a mutual affection for the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets. He sold Cokes at the stadium, and he took me to the annual Thanksgiving Day freshman football games between Georgia and Georgia Tech. I remember very few of the Christmas gifts I received as a kid, but Jimmy gave me a Georgia Tech jersey with the number 30 that would be a treasured gift up until I enrolled as a student at the University of Georgia. My loyalties then shifted to the Bulldogs, where they’ve been ever since. I’m not sure Jimmy ever forgave me for what he considered nothing short of an act of betrayal. And if you’re not familiar with the Georgia/Georgia Tech rivalry, yet another lengthy blog would be required.
I watched Jimmy play an excellent second base on an elite fast-pitch softball team. I saw the results of his self-taught builder skills when he proudly showed me the rooms he had upgraded or the addition to his home he had expertly completed. I noticed the pride he had in his daughters and then his grandkids and great grandkids. I saw the evident love and admiration his family members displayed toward him when they were together. He liked to laugh, and he did so loudly. He had a sizeable assortment of jokes and riddles, and he could reel them off in rapid succession on a moment’s notice. But he didn’t take himself so seriously or have such a fragile ego that he couldn’t laugh at himself.
With advancing age came several health issues, but he always dealt with them with grace, humor, and a complete lack of self-pity. There was no self-pity in his genetic makeup. He took the blows and kept coming back, like the Hughes he was.
It won’t be the same without Jimmy. I’ll have the many fond memories of the times we spent together, and I’ll think of him often. He was a good and decent man as a husband, father, grandfather, and great grandfather. He was also a pretty darn good uncle, too. I shall miss him.
RIP, Uncle Jimmy.
