James Edward Person

On February 1st, James Edward Person, a passionate, lifelong seafarer boldy and too soon departed this world for distant shores. His big sister, Susan, had the tragic privilege of holding his hand as he set his last sail on a mercifully tranquil sea. Jim lived in Point Loma his entire life, having graduated from Point Loma High School in 1984. He was preceded in death by his father, Dr. Edward A. Person, and mother, Joan F. Person.

Jim was a fan of Star Trek. And yes, his distinction as a rabid technophile was not so different from many Trekkers in that it wasn’t limited to the gadgetry itself, but also extended into the promise technology holds for the healing and uniting of humanity. What’s important about his interest in the SciFi franchise however, is that it serves as a near-perfect metaphor for Jim and the dueling natures that defined him.

On the one hand, he was the idealistic boy—good-natured to a fault and disarmingly wide-eyed; someone who gleefully pursued every moment of freedom and excitement made available to him by his bachelor lifestyle and the open waters of the Pacific. His toys were the envy of children and adults alike, and the extensive collection of rare model trains Jim acquired, catalogued, and on occasion even played with, were as much of a centerpiece of his Point Loma home as were the massive Star Wars Lego sets he assembled with the same care and precision invested by any engineer who builds actual spacecraft. Jim sailed whenever possible, and as a third generation member of the San Diego Yacht Club, he crewed on numerous racing teams and won several national championships, including the Cabrillo III and the Lipton Cup.

On the other hand, Jim was a man so intelligent and impossibly fastidious that he was able to build a professional life on a self-taught understanding of aircraft engineering and the physics of flight. During his 20 years with Goodrich, Jim led teams of technical writers who created the maintenance and technical manuals for many major commercial aircraft. If you’ve flown anywhere in the last two decades, there’s a strong chance you made it to your destination safely due in part to Jim’s remarkable skills as a writer/editor, and his love of order, clarity, and detail. These qualities also helped Jim to take his relationship with the Yacht Club well beyond the thrill of open water. Since 1999, Jim proudly served six times as the San Diego Race Committee Chairman. In this role, Jim’s capacity for disciplined vision led to some of the most successful racing seasons the Yacht Club has had in its 135 year history.

Jim embodied an uncompromising sense of professional duty and leadership ability that existed hand-in-hand with an untamable adventurous spirit—all of this fueled by the kind of curiosity and imagination that’s usually only enjoyed by the very young. Indeed, Star Fleet would have been very lucky to have him.

Those who knew Jim best understood that the love of order, clarity, and detail that served him so well professionally could also serve as a barrier set between himself and those who cared about him. This, working in tandem with a perception of life forever grounded in youth could make it difficult to know him at all. Truly, as tends to be the case with those who live life entirely on their own terms, Jim’s best qualities could also be his most challenging.

Unlike his similarly dispositioned contemporaries however, Jim was deeply sympathetic to any brave soul who chose to navigate his idiosyncrasies. As is so often said about the departed, he actually was genuinely kind and thoughtful, even if he sometimes failed to meet his own high expectations in this regard. After hearing of Jim’s passing, a long-time friend remarked that it has made him think of how he himself navigates his own relationships and how people will remember him at his own passing; realizing that, remarkably, neither he nor anyone would be able to recall a time when Jim was anything less than gentle and charitable, even in conflict. We remember Jim for those qualities above all, even as we mourn that in life he was far more humble than was appropriate, more atoning than was required.

We will miss you so much, Jim. You were our friend, our son, and our baby brother who was (annoyingly) smarter than any of us. Compounding an already crushing sense of loss is the knowledge that your departure is a far greater tragedy than you likely ever imagined.