James Gassaway

James Gassaway
March 1, 1954 - May 21, 2020
On Thursday, May 21, 2020, we said goodbye to James Gassaway. He was 66 years old.
Above all else, Jim was devoted to family, so we, his wife Barbara (Buchignani), and daughters, Michele (Hyndman) and Rachel (Martin), offer this tribute in our shared voice. We are, and will remain - as he affectionately called us in his faded Texan drawl - "his girls."
Jim was the youngest of five siblings, born on March 1, 1954 in Fort Worth, TX, to John and Evelyn (Anders) Gassaway. The grandson of two contractors and the son of an engineer, he grew up in Ft. Worth and Smithfield, TX working with his hands. In his teens, he saved up to buy a drum kit and taught himself to play the drums, fueling his lifelong passion for classic rock n' roll. After four years in the US Navy, Jim chose a career in machining. He spoke fondly of learning his trade by apprenticing with an expert machinist at ITT Cannon in Phoenix, AZ. Over the next three decades, Jim grew into an expert machinist, expressing with pride that he had come full circle when he returned to work for ITT Cannon in Santa Rosa, CA and spent the last decade of his career mentoring younger machinists.
When he wasn't machining, you could find Jim supporting Barbara behind the scenes as, over the course of their 23 years of marriage, she grew Uniquely Chic Floral & Home into the thriving main street Healdsburg business it is today. He let each of us know in direct and subtle ways that he took more pride in being married to Barbara, and raising two strong daughters than he did in any of his other accomplishments. His favorite day was Sunday because it was his and Barb's day - her shop was closed and they spent the whole day together. Jim would grocery shop and cook delicious meals, and they'd both work in the yard and cuddle with their furry family Frank (Poot), Fred, Rosie and Lily.
Throughout the week, Jim loved to call his beloved mother and siblings in Texas and his daughters in Mountain View, CA and Saint Paul, MN to "chew the fat" (Texan for having a lengthy conversation). As those of us who lived with Jim or received his calls can confirm, his appetite for watching and talking about news, political commentary, and NASCAR races was insatiable. As a son of Texas, born into the Jim Crow south, we regret he didn't live to see his passion for racial justice and racing collide in June when NASCAR banned the confederate flag from its venues and drivers and crew walked in solidarity behind Bubba Wallace, the circuit's only Black driver. Though Jim took family, politics and racing seriously, he had a full-body laugh that could, and often did, stop us in our tracks. He'd laugh so hard his face would turn red and when he ran out of air, his wheezing laugh would fall silent. His momentary silence would be broken by a rough round of coughs as he'd settle back into conversation with a few audible "wooh" sounding exhales and a twinkle in his eyes.
One gift of having an ancestor with deeply held and freely expressed opinions is that we continue to hear and experience him every day. His booming voice reminds us not to get complacent about ongoing injustices in our country and also to be sure to load the dishwasher with the mug handles facing the same direction. When our hearts are overcome with grief at losing him suddenly and during a time of pandemic and physical distance from each other, we hear his loving, firm voice say, "Honey. It's OK." As our hearts ache to hear his truck "Big Red" roar up the driveway each night, we feel his hands on our shoulders, pulling us in for a bear hug followed by his signature rhythmic pat. We can sense his love, and for a moment at least, our hearts can let go.
Jim was preceded in death by his father, John. He is survived by his mother Evelyn, his wife Barbara, his daughters, Michele and Rachel, his grandchildren, Frances, Sydney, Earl, and Mason, his siblings Yvette, John, Annette, and Larry, several cousins, nieces and nephews and his beloved cat, Poot. We are planning a small, private service for September - with Jim's favorite ribeye steaks and twice baked potatoes - and a larger celebration to follow.
"Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done.
Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."
- Kansas (one of Jim's favorite bands)