James Jay Wymore

The best brother, uncle, and friend you could ask for, Jimmy's kind spirit, optimism, and playfulness were guaranteed to brighten your day.

Jimmy was born on December 3, 1948, to Lorraine Schlueter and James Wymore in a time that was not ready for him.

As a child, Jimmy would hunt for tadpoles along the LA River for hours at a time before bringing home lizards to hide in his drawers as pets.

He often spent time with his Aunt Genny (Genevieve), who adored him, and later his cousins Don and Ron.

From a young age through high school, Jimmy lived at and attended Riverside School for the Deaf, where we can only imagine he made friends as easily as he always did. One of those friendships, with his classmate Robert, lasted a lifetime.

His love of all amphibians, reptiles, insects, and really all creatures, was a constant throughout his life. He cared for more than his fair share of… let’s say, unconventional pets. Whether it was a tarantula, snakes, lizards, or an ant farm, he welcomed them all. You could often hear a cricket chirping in his apartment or on the loose, a desperate attempt to avoid becoming lizard food. When visiting his sister Mary in Texas, he was happiest wandering the banks of the Guadalupe River, searching for crawdads, fish, and whatever else he could find.

In the early ‘70s, he began working at Bank of America where he remained for over 40 years until his retirement in 2018. His coworkers became more than colleagues, and the bonds he built lasted far beyond the workplace.

A prankster, you might often feel a tap on your shoulder and Jimmy standing (hiding) in the opposite direction. Or get a Christmas present with five layers of wrapping paper and thick layers of packing tape between each one (turning a gift into a 30-minute unwrapping challenge).

His thoughtfulness shone through in everything he did. No matter where he was going, he got there early. He woke up at 4 or 4:30 to go to work (much earlier than he needed to, we suspect!), and arrived 30 minutes before any scheduled dinner or party, waiting for everyone else to arrive. If you visited him at his apartment, he always walked you to your car before following you down the driveway, waving goodbye the whole time.

If you were out walking on Eagle Rock Blvd, getting lunch in Glendale, or taking the bus into Pasadena, you might have run into Jimmy. And if you did, you'd see his remarkable ability to connect with people. A stranger to no one, hanging out with him often felt like hanging out with a celebrity. Everyone seemed to know him. Everyone considered him a friend.

The joy and optimism he brought to the world is a gift, especially given the many hardships he faced in his early years. Never phased too long by neglect or thoughtless cruelty, Jimmy believed the best of others even when they perhaps didn't deserve it.

In January 2024, Jimmy moved out of his apartment in Eagle Rock and into the British Home in Sierra Madre, where he was surrounded by a fantastic group of residents and staff (Susan, Jane, Katelyn, Juan, Sylvia, and many more) who treated him like family, on a beautiful campus that felt immediately like home.

Jimmy died on February 20, 2025, with his sister Donna by his side. In the days leading up to his passing, many relatives, friends, residents, and current and former staff members stopped by to visit, sit with him, and say their goodbyes, an outpouring of love that was a testament to the remarkable person he was and the impact he had on others.

Jimmy is survived by his sisters, Mary and Donna; his nephews and nieces, Danny, James, Ryan, Matthew, Michael, Kristen, Anne, and Leslie; great nephews and nieces, in-law nieces and nephews including David, Claudia, and Jonathan; many friends who were his second family, and of course,

all the wonderful little creatures crawling, walking, swimming, or flying around the earth.

Jimmy's legacy lives on in the many lives he touched with his gentle and joyful spirit, kindness, and humor.

Services will be held on Saturday, March 8, 2025 at Turner & Stevens Live Oak Mortuary in Monrovia, California.

In lieu of flowers, we ask that you feed an animal in Jimmy’s name.