A hero has died.

James Patrick McGovern (April 7, 1949-May 25,2024) was raised in Hamden, Connecticut. He attended Providence College on a basketball scholarship, a Catholic university in Providence, Rhode Island. He served his country in the Vietnam war.  Upon his return, he moved to Boston, Massachusetts to pursue a career in commodities and real estate.

As a boy he played basketball on St. Rita's courts, where he attended school, often until the sun went down. At which point he and his friends would play cards for money. Jim was the card shark who won every game and every pot. Unbeknownst to him, Monsignor was watching from the rectory which overlooked the courtyard. Monsignor pulled Jim's brother Jack aside and said, "Tell your brother some of that money better make it into the donation box." He didn't have to ask twice; maybe not at all, because Jim, the former altar boy, was always generous. He was philanthropic from head to toe.

Although his favorite authors were Hemingway and Steinbeck, his favorite quote was from Emerson:

"What is success? To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to laugh often and much; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world, a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."

To this end, Jim was an everyday hero to countless men, women and children. In the war, Jim was a hero, receiving an Air Medal with Valor among other recognition for his service. But, Jim didn't want to talk about those days. The war left scars, but those scars never prevented him from caring for others, and helping in any way he could. So, instead, we'll share stories that reflect the kind, generosity of the man. He was big and tall, and a presence in a crowded room while being an even bigger presence in the lives of both strangers and those he loved.

Friend Richard Duffy remembers Jim was always down to earth. "I remember when he wanted to start the "humble and kind" mission. It was around Christmas in 2019.  We would go to the Food Pantry and bring canned goods and stuff to be donated by the Masons (and different places like churches) to the community room at Bedford Green. It was to help the guys who didn't have much. We did that during the Pandemic and we were always getting in trouble for it because some thought it made the community room look messy. Jim didn't care. We kept doing it anyway."

It wasn't just the food he handed out to those in need, or the charitable contributions he made, or the rides he gave to fellow vets who needed to make doctor appointments or other important trips, it was the way he had everyone's back that made him so beloved.

Women found him charming; men found in him a kindred spirit; and children felt safe with him. And to his daughter Caitlin, he was truly larger than life.

Caitlin's friend, Briana Taylor, remembers Jim being a great Girl Scout Troop Leader. She recalls him making sure every girl earned her badges and that their troop sold the most cookies. Her Mom, Dianne, remembers Jim trying to squeeze his 6'5" frame into the tiny, children's desks during parent-teacher conferences.

Caitlin's friend, Rosie Sevilla, from college, says, "When I think of Jim, there is an overwhelming feeling of love. How he embraced me as his own, treated me with the same amount of love, care, and protection as he did with Caitlin. Took a genuine interest in my life, when he didn't have to. He was my college, bonus dad. He made sure we went to the football games, and then he would drop us off at parties, and the next day, he would drive back up - ready with coffee and breakfast. He didn't care what he did, he just wanted to do it with Caitlin, and I am just happy I got to see that."

His sister-in-law Anita Stevens loved Jim for the bountiful love he had for her children; she knew he would always be there for them. Jim was her daughter Mandy Dandro's godfather.  Among Mandy's cherished memories of her uncle and godfather was her 16th summer. She flew into Boston from Las Vegas to spend the summer, and Uncle Jimmy got her a job at Durgin Park, which she loved. He chauffeured Caitlin and Mandy on tours around Boston and the North End. She fondly remembers the summers she spent with Jim and the McGovern clan on Leetes Island in Guilford, CT, including the time when the children were crying because the jellyfish were attacking and Jim rescued them all. "It hurt so much, she says," but Jim made everything okay. He always took care of us." She recalls Jim driving to her bedside in the hospital after a terrible car accident, and somehow finding ways to cheer her up.

"I met him when I wanted to rent an apartment," says Loretta McGovern, his former wife. "I was surprised at how tall and manly he was. But, I was especially taken with the Irish setter that accompanied him, Dagmar. She was one great dog and I was impressed with how much he loved her. I did rent an apartment from him. He was in real estate with Byron Angel. The company was A&M realty. They needed a receptionist, so I offered to answer the phones and in lieu of a salary, I asked to set up a phone for myself to start my public relations and marketing firm. We were quite young. He finally asked me out, and we drove in his T-top convertible to Barnacle Billy's in Ogunquit, ME. It was his go-to spot to impress a girl. He was a bit deflated when we got there, and I was warmly greeted by the owner and staff, as my family spent every summer in Ogunquit and we all were long time acquaintances. Jim really enjoyed becoming part of our annual tradition of Ogunquit summers and dinners at Barnacle Billy's."

He loved to drive. Long distances didn't phase him. But, he could be a little stubborn behind the wheel. The car was his domain. "Jim wasn't always good with directions, " says his friend and fellow veteran Wayne Livermore. "He loved an adventure. He would see several cars ahead of him making a left turn and just say 'they must know where they are going' and we would end up in some random location. I would ask him if he wanted me to turn on the GPS, but he would decline. One day, he told me that when Caitlin was much younger, he was driving her somewhere and as usual ended up on an unknown road, and she said, "Is this another one of your shortcuts, daddy?" Sometimes when we would be out driving, and he would take one of those funny turns and get lost, I would say, 'is this another one of your short cuts?' He said he regretted telling me that story."

Jim was proud of being a freemason. Wayne recalls, "without knowing that I was already a mason, he asked if I was interested in attending an interview that he had set up because of the Benjamin Franklin ad they had on television. I said sure, and when we were at the interview one of the guys said something that was incorrect, and I corrected him. Then, I showed him my membership card. Jim was surprised to find out that I was a mason. We both got involved in the Frank W. Thompson Lodge in Concord. After Jim became a Master Mason, he was appointed electrician of the lodge. An electrician's job is to regulate the lighting during the ceremonies and he enjoyed doing that."

As a memorial to his father on St. Patrick's Day, Jim brought Tullamore Dew to toast his dad. Jim wanted to have an annual toast every year on St. Patrick's Day to his father's memory with Tullamore Dew. When Jim couldn't make it this past St. Patrick's Day, Caitlin brought the Tullamore to the Lodge.

He is remembered by his friends for his humor, and sometimes "devilish" jokes. He would have been thrilled to know this. And his heart would be warmed to hear the men who became his brothers tearfully comment that he was more than a friend, he was brother, he was family. To his brother-in-law, Tom Stevens, Jim was a comfort. "When our daughter Mandy was facing a lot of surgery, rehab, and a long convalescence, Anita and I didn't know what we were going to do. Jim came down to see us, we talked, and somehow felt better for it."

When Jim himself was hospitalized with a stroke, it was evident that he impacted so many lives by the number and diversity of those who visited him in the hospital. And again, during his 95 days at Lahey hospital in Burlington, the devotion he fostered in others was evident.

His brother, Jack, remembers him as being very fair and very brave. "He was the type of big brother who made you stand on your own two feet. Jim wouldn't do it for you, but he also made sure no one messed with you while you were learning to." He was big, but never a bully. He also wasn't someone you could ignore or dismiss. Jim was stabbed in the back by a robber on a dark night in the North End. By the time the ambulance arrived a huge pool of blood surrounded his body. It appeared he had bled out. One of the EMT's said to the other, "He's not going to make it." Jim grabbed the EMT by his ankle and said, " If I die, you die." Jim was a fighter, a warrior.

His friend and former roommate, Barbara Nelson, now a federal judge in New York, remembers Jim when he returned from Vietnam. They were living in Cambridge. It was Jim's hippie days. He was taking a course in political science at the University of Massachusetts, Boston, with a rather liberal professor. The professor was expecting an essay from his students. The night before it was due, Jim confessed he couldn't think of anything to write. "So, I wrote a rather sympathetic essay on the Independence Movement in Puerto Rico for him," she says. "He didn't read it; he just turned it in. The professor loved the essay, complemented Jim and began to treat him with respect.

"A few days later, Jim read the essay, and while he was grateful for the help, he was appalled to discover he was now a 'leftist' in the eyes of his professor."

Jim had strong political views, but he was a man of the people. To make every individual feel meaningful was Jim's greatest talent. His sister-in-law, Dr. Rhonda Friedmann, appreciated Jim's awe of other's achievements. And his sister-in-law, Rebecca Ross, loved how fiercely protective he was, "Whenever anyone gave me a hard time, Jim was ready go to bat for me." He was a big man, with a big heart. He will be missed. His nephew Brent Stevens, from Georgia, remembers the trips to Kelly's Roast Beef in Revere for clams and sitting on the beach to eat them. "I remember Uncle Jim taking me to my first baseball game, and making me a Sox fan for life."

To his friend Barbara Hatfield, Jim was a solid citizen. To his friend Susan Pecora he was "a fun, crazy, impulsive, big oversized, grown up kid at heart.  He had some very high highs and very low lows in his life, but the best thing that ever happened to him was the birth of Caitlin. I remember seeing this imposing man gently carrying this teeny baby in his arms. That was a sight to remember. He adored her and she him. He would bring her to my farm to help in the garden and ride the horses. His lilies bloom every year, and will remind me of those good days."

Caitlin's memories are the most precious. "My dad was one of the special ones, and everyone who ever met him felt it." She says, "I remember daddy would shine my patent leather shoes every day before school. I would march around the corner to St. John's in my blue plaid uniform, staring at my glossy shoes glimmering with each step, singing 'I want to be an airborne ranger' changing the lyrics to I want to be a ballerina as dad feigned a grimace.

"I remember clambakes on Leetes Island, after swimming all day in the ocean letting the bluefish nibble on our toes. Trying venison for the first time and Uncle Jack and Daddy telling me it was Bambi, followed by hysterical tears and a woefully apologetic dad. I remember him sitting on the porch like his uncle and grandfather used to, being nosy neighbors and watching people pull onto Leetes Island wondering who they were here to see.

"We would listen to doo-wop and The Beach Boys in the summer, driving around with the AC blasting, and then having to 'acclimate' ourselves with a big blast of fresh air.

"I remember lots of good food: foot-long hotdogs with mustard, onion, and relish, because ketchup didn't belong on a dog. Steamed hamburgers on toast at Louis' Lunch in New Haven, where I sacrilegiously asked for ketchup. White clam pizza at Pepe's or Regina's. A slice of ricotta pie after school at Modern Pastry. He used food to establish traditions and as a way to make you open up about what was eating you. Whether it was a good meal he cooked or a treat at one of his favorite spots. I will always associate those recipes or foodie spots with the comfort of my dad.

"When I was miserable in high school, he would pick me up at 11:10 AM so that I was marked 'present' for the day and we would go home to a North End restaurant to eat chicken ziti and broccoli at the bar. There, he taught me lessons you couldn't learn in school, about finding the best spot at a bar, being a good neighbor, and how to 'play' the stock market.

"I remember summer days at Castle Island for an ice cream and to walk the dogs. Daddy would lift me up onto his shoulders to see if I could touch the planes as they flew low overhead. Sailing lessons where I took him out on the harbor, only to crash the boat into the dock. I remember bowling on Wednesday nights in Dorchester, me still in my school uniform.

"Special to me was our trip to Fort Myers Florida where we rented a red Mustang convertible, drove the Everglades and watched the sunsets to see if we could catch the optical illusion of green that flashed when the sun hit the water, and deep sea fishing right before a hurricane to get the best catch.

"But, it was also the everyday that dad made special, always showing up when you needed him (almost) no questions asked and finding contentment with smaller moments: the smell of Lagerfeld cologne, football games on Thanksgiving day, pie for breakfast…

"It's the grandfather he became, and seeing him relive all those moments of my childhood with our three beautiful babies. That was his pride, his legacy. He taught me character, and how to appreciate what matters in life."

It's fitting that James P McGovern would die on Memorial Day weekend, because he was a hero to his country, his family and friends. His accomplishments may appear minor in the scope of world events, but the world would be a better place, if everyone shared Jim's ability to love and treat others with an unconditional generosity.

If the measure of a man is judged by what he leaves behind then Jim's greatest legacy is his daughter, Caitlin and her husband Kyle Treem and their three children, Caiden, Emily, and Bennett; his former wife and good friend Loretta McGovern; his brother Jack McGovern and nephews Sean and Patrick and niece Kathleen McGovern; his sisters and brothers-in-law and their children; Anita and Tom Stevens, Mandy and Brian Dandro, Brent and Marie Stevens; Rebecca and Howard Ross, Eric Ross, Kira and Ben Rey; Rhonda and Michael Dominov, Ari Kerstein.

Visitation will be held at the Bedford Funeral Home, 167 Great Rd., Bedford, on Sunday, June 2, from 2:00-4:00 PM. A Mass of Christian burial will be held at St. Brigid Church, 1981 Mass Ave, Lexington, on Monday, June 3, at 10:00 AM. Interment will take place at the Massachusetts National Cemetery in Bourne, on Tuesday, June 4, at 1:30 PM.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions can be made to the Bedford Community Table/Pantry Inc. , 12 Mudge Way, Bedford, MA 01730 or to the Aleppo Shriners , 99 Fordham Rd., Wilmington, MA 01887.