James S. Mann

James Stephen Mann, 87, of Watertown, MA, passed away peacefully on January 20, 2026, after a lengthy battle with dementia. He was born on March 31, 1938, in Lowell, MA, to the late Catherine (née Bamford) and Orison Mann.

Jim spent his entire working life as a teacher at Canton High School in Canton, Connecticut. He believed deeply in the importance of sparking curiosity and encouraging students to think for themselves. In the classroom, he was well known for possessing a remarkably loud "inside voice" when he needed to get students' attention-a sharp contrast to the man at home, who was softly spoken and rarely, if ever, raised his voice. He took pride in his work and believed in showing up, doing the job well, and treating people fairly.

He proudly served his country in the United States Air Force and later put himself through Salem State College in Salem, Massachusetts. As a young man, Jim also worked as a home builder, skills and craftsmanship that stayed with him throughout his life and informed his love of woodworking.

Jim married the love of his life, Susan Kelly, in 1967, and they shared a devoted and enduring marriage until her passing in 2023. Together they built a life grounded in laughter, curiosity, and compassion for others.

Jim's favorite novel was The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, a book whose themes reflected his own deeply held values. Like Steinbeck, Jim believed in the dignity of work, the importance of caring for those in need, and the responsibility we share for one another-especially for people seeking safety and shelter. He understood that none of us truly owns this country, and that all people deserve to be treated fairly and with respect. Having grown up with very little and later found stability through hard work and opportunity, Jim never believed that wealth made anyone better than another; he believed character was measured by actions, integrity, and values. He also held that one of the greatest gifts and responsibilities of being a U.S. citizen was the right to vote, a privilege he deeply respected.

One of Jim's greatest joys in recent years was his granddaughter, Harper, whom he absolutely adored and of whom he was immensely proud. Harper gave him the name "Boppa," and as her Boppa he delighted in spending time with her-gardening side by side, sharing his fascination with the natural world, and even letting her gently touch Garter snakes, much to her grandmother's alarm and her memorable cries of, "Go wash your hands so you don't get salmonella!" Those moments brought Jim deep happiness and laughter.

Jim had a lifelong fondness for animals and shared his home over the years with several beloved dogs and cats. He took genuine pleasure in their companionship and cared for them with the same quiet patience that defined so much of his life. One of his most well known family stories captures both his love of animals and his dry, unexpected humor. While trying to locate a cat he intended to put outside-and unaware that his daughter was listening-Jim was heard muttering in frustration, "Cat, your ass is grass and I'm the mower." The moment became instant family legend, offering a rare glimpse of his mischievous side and never failing to bring laughter.

A lifelong learner and early technology enthusiast, Jim was a first adopter of personal computers, beginning with the Commodore VIC He was a prolific reader, a careful and capable writer, an avid gardener, and a skilled woodworker. He was also an excellent photographer with a keen eye for detail and composition and at one point he maintained his own darkroom.

Jim's early life was shaped by hardship and remarkable resilience. After the loss of his mother when he was just five years old, he and his two brothers spent a brief time in an orphanage before being lovingly taken in and raised by his sister Catherine and her husband, Frances Cummings. Their generosity and compassion left a lasting imprint on Jim and informed his lifelong empathy and advocacy for others.

Jim was predeceased by his wife, Susan Kelly Mann, and his siblings Henry Mann of Liberty, ME; Maureen Mann of Winter Haven, FL; Orison Mann of Yuma, AZ; and Catherine Mann Cummings of Sun City, FL. He is survived by his daughter, Kelly Mann, and her husband, Michael Travers, by his beloved granddaughter, Harper Ruby Mann Travers, who was the light of his later years and by several nieces and nephews.

The family extends their deepest gratitude to the care team at Evans Park in Newton, MA-especially Jacky and her team-for the compassion, dignity, and love they showed Jim in his final years. Sincere thanks are also offered to Good Shepherd Hospice for their gentle and attentive care. A special thank you is extended to Caryn Eichenbaum for her guidance, kindness, and expertise in helping Jim's family find such an exceptional assisted living community.

Donations in Jim's memory may be made to any local food pantry or community refrigerator. Jim believed that caring for others was worth the cost and that dignity should never be compromised-especially for children-often saying to "buy the brand names." He welcomed and respected immigrants and those who came to this country seeking opportunity, believing that hope, effort, and shared humanity mattered far more than where someone began. In no uncertain times, he also believed deeply in the importance of voting, civic responsibility and standing up for others.

Services will be announced at a later date. Jim will be interred at Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, MA, beside his beloved wife, Susan.

Jim will be remembered as a loving husband and father, a devoted grandfather, a gifted writer and photographer, a quiet advocate for those in need, and a man who lived with curiosity, humility, kindness-and a dry sense of humor that never failed to surprise. We love you, dad.

"I'll be all around in the dark – I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look – wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build – I'll be there, too." John Steinbeck, "The Grapes of Wrath"