James Michael McNamara

James Michael McNamara, affectionately known as “Mac,” was born to Myrtle Frances Boyle and Wallace J McNamara on September 3, 1934, in Midvale, Utah. He was the fourth of five children. (He was preceded in death by all his siblings: Betty Jean McNamara, Shirley Ann Brobst, Kathryn Frances Canida, and Robert Wallace McNamara.) Growing up on a farm, he learned to work hard at an early age. He grew vegetables, collected and candled eggs, and milked the cow to earn spending money. He spoke of those days fondly.

Mac’s early professional life was a little eclectic. He worked first in a lumberyard and then as a milkman before discovering that he excelled as a salesman, almost certainly on account of his genuine curiosity and exuberance towards others. He did a lot of traveling, with moves between Washington, Idaho, and California, until he became a partner in 1980 at Eclipse Marketing Group in Redmond, Washington. He valued the quality people he worked with there, and learned so much from rubbing shoulders with them until he retired in 2000.

Mac did not pursue formal education after his graduation from Jordan High School in 1951, but he was always learning and exploring, constantly completing crossword puzzles and hardback books from his favorite authors. He played bridge often and competitively, achieving the rank of Bronze Life Master from the American Contract Bridge League in September 2022. He was an avid golfer until back surgeries eventually curtailed that passion. But that didn’t stop him from enjoying life. He took up hiking and backpacking, venturing off solo and organizing “MacPacs” for family members to backpack together. He hiked most of the Pacific Crest Trail, traversed the Grand Canyon, summited many mountains, including Mount Rainier, and even went bungee jumping. He wanted to live his life to the fullest, and many of his stories will live on as cautionary tales, notably surviving food poisoning from foil-wrapped Alfy’s pizza while climbing Mount Rainier.

After retiring, Mac and his wife Avie Burton decided to sell the house and travel the country in an RV they named Thunderhead. They loved traveling in every state and visited all the National Parks, leaving an impressively detailed record of their routes in a highlighted road atlas. Visits with friends and family wherever they were always the highlight of any trip. They took cruises to see the world and absolutely had the time of their lives. Mac loved experiencing other cultures, and even though he often didn’t understand the languages, his enthusiasm won people over. Later, they left the road and settled down in Munds Park, OR, Crooked River Ranch, OR and finally Sun City West, Arizona. Together they participated in local gatherings for bridge games and banter and played host to their loved ones until Avie passed in 2020.

Mac didn’t like to live alone, and was fortunate to share his life and a home with a new partner, Marilynne Harney, with whom he enjoyed traveling, playing bridge, and regular Friday night dancing over the last couple years.

In June 2023 he was diagnosed with lung and bone cancer. As his condition became more serious, he went on Hospice and moved to live with his daughter, Michelle, in Everett, Washington. His son, Brad, drove him up from Arizona, and in true Mac fashion, they made a final road trip of it. They stopped to see family on the way, and afterwards Mac recounted their adventures for his many visitors, marveling at the many instances of what he called “serendipity” on the drive, when chance events felt particularly magical. Oh, what fun he had reconnecting with old friends and family and savoring newer connections in idyllic Seattle summer weather! He went out for lunches and dinners and basked in love and opportunities to connect at family barbeques. He saw people he hadn’t seen for decades and was so happy. A tremendous highlight of his final days was reconnecting with colleagues he had cherished and who cherished him at the annual Eclipse Marketing golf tournament during his final weeks. He was grateful for the loving attention of great-grandchildren, who gently kissed his knees, rubbed lotion on his arms, “read” him stories from the hallway outside his room, and crawled giggling under his bed. He had an unbelievable number of opportunities to soak in the presence of four generations in the same room, and rallied his strength to make silly faces that made the youngest members of his family laugh. He declined very quickly. He went from driving a cart around Costco on a Tuesday to being mostly confined to bed three days later. He passed away peacefully the next Monday, August 7, 2023 at 11:08pm surrounded by family. We were blessed to have him here. We are sad and miss him, but also know he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The telling of this man’s life would not be complete without acknowledging and honoring the full range of joy and pain, hope and heartbreak encompassed by family. Mac spent little of his 88 years single, first marrying as a very young man at 17, ultimately marrying four times and divorcing three. (Martha Steed, Joanne Berrett, Janice Rettig and Avie Riley Burton.) Mac’s experience of family was defined by these unions, ruptures, and changes, both limited and expanded how he could live and express the depths of his love. Mac recognized and regretted that he let down important family members, and he was disappointed by the distance between his desires for family unity and togetherness and the reality of some of those relationships. What is true is that Mac cherished his family and wished to have good relationships with all. Nothing made him prouder than his large progeny, and he lit up talking people through the vast family tree displayed in his room. It mattered to him that it was made by his oldest son. He worked hard until the very end of his life to bring his family members together and to better understand those who had touched his life and those whose lives he had created and shaped, whether he raised them or not. He is survived by his children: Mike, Maryanne, Julie, Charlotte, Brad, Michelle, Sean, Pam, Dianne, Barb and Sue. He is also survived by his many grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, who will forever remember him sharing his pistachios, playing “to boogey” on his knee, sending cards for every holiday, singing “Happy Birthday” with gusto over candles and voicemail, and urging everyone to reach out to each other.

Written by Michelle Topham (daughter) and Quinn Topham (granddaughter)