I was only in Jim’s presence a number of times, but it didn’t take an overly sensitive person to feel his open-hearted warmth and acceptance. I will be forever grateful for one magical night that I spent playing music with Jim, Mark, John, Lori, Denise, and some of their friends. Except for playing with my own son, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more encouraged and less self-conscious in singing and creating music. Indeed, it was an experience of great communal and musical harmony. I think that is why I’ve thought of Jim at some point every day since his passing. He was a universal spirit who could resonate and harmonize with so many over such a broad spectrum. I judge a man like that to be a holy man. I write with tears in my eyes and can only imagine the blessings of love, friendship, fun and mischief that he shared with those who knew and loved him over the years on so many levels. I wish I could have experienced more of what you all are able to cherish.

As the holiday nears and we all try to just breath and get through it, please know that Jim would want everyone to enjoy gathering together, good times, good laughs and such. He rather despised the "commercialism" the holiday has become but loved seeing everyone and spending time with family and friends. Please take time to recognize those special moments that we're given each and every day. I miss Jim every moment but try to keep on keeping on knowing that's what he would want. It Is ~ Forever and Beyond.

Contributed by Lori Witty (Spouse-Soulmate) on December 19, 2008

This poem was written for Jim by my friend Randy. Thank you Randy for your kind words: Oh, what a human being. Infectious laugh, Scruffy beard. See over the next hill, gotta see. The hill, the urge described, For all… Creation and grace. That eye glint, that smile, Turn of phrase Heart embedded words… Poetry and funny magic. A husband, a dad, A son, a friend. Unique, unforgettable and precious. Oh, what a human being.

Contributed by Mark Quon (Friend) on December 15, 2008

I miss Jim every moment of every day. The outpouring of love and support I continue to receive is amazing. My strength comes from my memories and the realization of the unique once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that Jim and I shared. I'd give anything to have people know what that feels like. It made Jim and I so happy....in a contagious kind of way..and what a better world we'd live in if everyone could know that kind of love. "It Is"....always will be. Lors

Contributed by Lori Witty (Wife-Soulmate) on December 5, 2008

I dreamed of Jim last night. We were at an outdoor concert, walking around the crowd. He asked me "what happened?" and I said, "you don't know?" "My mom said something about my stomach." "Jim, you had a heart attack," I cried. "Oh," he said, and then he was gone.

Contributed by Mark Quon (Friend) on December 4, 2008

Thank you so much, Mark, for providing this forum for our memories of this unique and good man. And thank all of you who knew and loved him much longer than I for tolerating my presumption in commenting here. Jim and I were tramping about on a fine, nasty, cold day last winter when we encountered a party of coyote trappers. I was not even remotely interested in becoming acquainted with these characters. However Jim, of course, immediately struck up a lengthy and sincere conversation with them. He found something meaningful, something worth engaging in these folks. Part of this may have been his reportorial instinct--he was every bit the professional after all. But I think it was more his genuine interest in and liking for people of all experiences and backgrounds. Jim may have been the most non-judgmental person I have ever known. Perhaps his nearly preternatural optimism about, and his joy in, the world and its denizens flowed from this. Though I sometimes thought I should start addressing him as "Dr. Pangloss," I had much, much left to learn from Jim. This man left the world he touched much the better for his having been in it. Perhaps this may be not the least of the legacies he has left to us.

Contributed by Peter Howse (Dear Friend) on December 1, 2008

A million thoughts fill my mind all at once when I think of Jim. Our more recent past had been both rocky and amicable with our very last communications being quite upbeat. We were finding our way.... I find my thoughts turn mostly to the humorous things. And there are so very many that it's hard to pick anything out in particular. I will remember Jim as being a happilly-upbeat-jovial-animated person. With such amazing writing and people talents that there are none that can quite compare left among us. I will cater to the visions and dreams he had for his sons and granddaughter- the things most all parents wish for their children. I hope I make him proud with the directions, suggestions and advise I give them for both of us now. I once loved him as a husband very much and never wanted our marriage to end- I mourned him then intensely. But nothing compares to losing him now as a dear friend. I know he is still with us, inside us... maybe even right beside us. And though we can't see him everyday or even talk to him on the phone whenever we'd like... he's still with us. Just in a different way- but always. A hui hou and aloha my friend. Donell

Contributed by Donell Arvin (former wife & friend) on November 28, 2008

Thank You Mark for creating this venue for memoralizing Jim. Today the family and I took a hike through the Oregon forest, and we felt Jim every step of the way. Jim came into our family in the early 80's like a breath of fresh air. We all adored him, and since he was the first "son in law", he was definitely the favorite. For me, he modeled what a "man's man" acted like, and as a consequence, I married someone very similar to him. Outdoorsy, in love with nature, spontaneous. But even my husband, who I adore, will never have Jim's love of people, which is such a gift and something I will miss the most. I had the pleasure of spending time with Jim about 60 days before he passed away unexpectedly. I will never forget his love of his sons, his love of BOTH of his wives, current and former, and how completely content he was. He said to both me and my husband, "Gretch, I've never been happier". He proudly showed me the poster of him and Mark's bday party (which was brilliant), and we hung out in the music room drinking wine. He called me when Alexis Jean was born, and I was so honored. The morning I got the news of his death, I called his cell phone just to hear his voice. I imagine him in heaven with my Dad Joe, having a cocktail and laughing about how complicated our mortal souls like to make everything. Ground control to Major Tom. I know you can hear me. Thank You for being our favorite rockstar.

Contributed by Gretchen Wilcox (Former/Forever Sister-in-law) on November 28, 2008

I'm sure I'll be in a better frame of mind to write more at a later date. For now, as simply as I can put it, I am the most blessed person on Earth to have been given the time I had with Jim. My heart will never beat quite the same but I'm holding on to all the beauty and love that Jim not only gave me in life, but taught me and showed me. So many incredible places I've been and amazing things I've seen thanks to him....and to share those with him...well..that my friends is indescribable. Our love can not be duplicated or replaced. He will forever be the one true love of my lifetime. I'm thankful to have had with Jim the kind of love that most people search an eternity for but are never lucky enough to find. Thanks Jim...."It Is".

Contributed by Lori Witty (Wife & Soulmate) on November 26, 2008

You knew Jim Witty. Even if you never met the man, you knew him. If you have hiked the Badlands or river trails, you knew him. If you have fly fished the lower Deschutes or explored the Steens mountains, you knew him. Jim was the outdoors writer for The Bulletin. He wrote about the great outdoors, the well known, and not so well known locations around Central Oregon. So whenever I took a hike or cast a line I always thought of Jim. His writings will be sorely missed.         Jim died Monday morning at the young age of 50. He was not my friend.     He was my best friend.     And you knew him.         He was the guy who struck up a conversation with you at the bar.     He was the guy who turned the negative conversation to positive.     And he was the guy who got way too excited about sage and juniper.     Jim was not an expert outdoorsman by any means. I would always kid him about getting us lost half of the time. He rarely used a map. I got the feeling he wanted to get lost.     But when he wrote about his outings, you could sense his passion for the outdoors. He had a writing style that made you crave Central Oregon. He loved that seemingly barren desert to the east. He had an affinity for the Badlands. I would accompany him on many outings and he would be moved by the most basic scrub on the ground. Something you or I would simply walk over. After reading a write up from one of our particularly “ordinary” outings, I had to wonder, “was I even there?”         Jim’s other passion was the written word. Combining nature with writing was a dream job. He was born to be a journalist. When Jim was 11 years old, he and another childhood friend named Tom started their own neighborhood “newspaper” called The Kanola Progress. They produced the paper in Jim’s garage.     Conflict arose when another venture of theirs became more profitable than the paper. Inspired by a carnival game they saw at the fair, they set up a similar game. When it proved to be more of a moneymaker, Tom wanted to focus on the game. Jim’s passion was the paper.     Jim became sole owner of The Kanola Progress.         We met as freshman in high school with a common love of music. The words and albums of David Bowie brought us together. We memorized the lyrics to every song. Anticipated every new album. Emulated the rooster hair cut.  Although he moved around quite a bit, we always kept in touch. I had come up over the years to visit Jim in Bend. When Jim married Lori, my wife Linda and I came up from Southern California for the wedding. Three months later, we were in escrow on a house in Bend.     I can’t say we moved here to be near him. That was a perk. But we never would have moved to Bend WITHOUT him. It was the best move of our lives.         I saw Jim just last Friday. We met some friends at Silver Moon for beer and then headed over to my house to play guitars. He stopped to pick up a pizza and called to let me know it was taking a while. He said he’d be there shortly and then signed off with “OK, love y....” He caught himself and stopped short.     I hung up the phone. Did Jim just tell me he loved me?     We laughed about it later. He was so used to ending his phone conversations with his wife Lori by saying, “love you.” But he did love me and I loved him. Lori jokingly referred to our relationship as “manlove.” So be it. As friends, we were soul mates.     We played guitars and sang songs until midnight. Since we had other guests, I liked to pause between songs for conversation. I could see Jim bouncing with his guitar. He wanted none of that.     “How about that Neil Young song we do?”     Playing music was the ONLY time Jim had no patience for conversation.         On the morning Jim died, I helped clean his house in preparation for the arrival of Lori’s mother from Baltimore. Jim had converted his garage into a living space dedicated to music. Posters and albums cover the walls. Jackson Browne. James Taylor. Johnny Cash. Guitars sat on guitar stands. Couches and chairs set up for the listeners. We jammed in this room. We scrawled our set list on the wall. He was proud of this room. As I was vacuuming the carpet, the strangeness of the situation hit me. I kept thinking what Jim would say.     He would be chuckling.     “Mark! What the hell are you doing? I just DIED!     I know Jim.     I know.

Jim was my husband's best friend He was my family, kind of like a brother to me I shared Mark's heart with him I still do and always will I've known Jim for nearly 22 years But I really came to know and love him when we moved here to Bend four years ago. We had spent time together He was our best man We saw him occasionally when he lived in Hemet We visited him in Hawaii We visited him in other small towns where he lived with his family He always spent time on the phone with me, even though he was really calling to talk to Mark I knew him mostly through the funny stories that Mark would tell I've heard the stories so many times I know most of them word for word Mic Jagger, Jack-in-the-box, Tom Moore, Huntington Beach... there are so many. Mark loved to tell Jim stories. Mark loved Jim. When we decided to move to Bend, Jim started sending me regular emails.He knew I was nervous about leaving So. Cal. He described the snow flakes drifting outside of his office window He painted pictures of the fall colors He gave daily weather reports My favorite email came in December. He told me that the people of Bend were so excited about the Quon's arrival, they were decorating evergreen trees, stringing their houses with colored lights, preparing feasts and exchanging gifts. He always made me laugh or smile, he always made me feel welcome, he always made me feel special. He was genuinely awed by the smallest things -- homemade salad dressing, a patsy cline song... it didn't matter. He always made me feel like a rock star. I feel so lucky and blessed to have been part of Jim's life and family. I will hold his kind and positive spirit in my heart forever.

Contributed by Linda Quon (Friend) on November 24, 2008