James T. Nalls

James Thomas Nalls

There is my father. His huge hand covers mine completely while we walk. If I walk too slowly, he counts to three and throws me forward. The crowd converges towards a tunnel. When we get to the bottleneck he moos like a cow. I laugh and moo too. Soon the whole crowd is a herd of cattle. When we emerge from the tunnel, a man barks ‘PROGRAMS!’ Dad hands me a dollar and says, “better get one boy, Uncle Bobby is too cheap.” We are at RFK for a Washington Redskins football game, and this is the best day of my life.

There is big Jim Nalls striding down the center aisle at St. Matthew’s in Flint, MI.  He has a crooked grin and a sparkle in his eye. On his right arm is Joan Marie Goggins, stunning in all white, and he might not realize it yet, but this is the best day of his life.

Jim and Joan Nalls are the parents to eight sons: James Thomas Jr, Timothy John, Anthony King, Patrick Willard, Michael Joseph, Daniel Gerard, John Goggins and Joseph Paul. To make it a complete team, they pick up another kid from the neighborhood: Richard Regis McArdle. JT loves his sons and they love him. Fatherhood is a joy to him; it is his greatest blessing and one of his greatest talents. His family is one of so many of the terrific families in St Jane de Chantal Parish. The O’Neills, the Cunninghams, the Keehans, the Reyes, the Hathways, the McKennas, the Kanes and the Sheas are some of many good friends.

JT is relaxing on the beach in Ocean City, MD. Even amidst the chaos of a large family, and surrounded by more kids from other large families, he knows how to lounge. At the beach or anywhere else, he always seems to be comfortable. Memories of Anchor Eight with the DuFiefs, the two triple bunk beds at Nalls Niche, trips to Frontiertown, bike rides on the boardwalk and Jimmy Jr on the guitar around a bonfire on 124th street; all as timeless as the sands.

There is JT walking off the gangway at Dulles Airport. He sees us waiting for him and for a split second I can see the sparkle, but then he senses that something is wrong. His son Tony is no longer with us. The news knocks him to the ground. For the rest of his days he is different…. he hugs longer and drinks less. Sometimes he cries at family parties.

Jimmy Nalls is not the best student, but he has an impact at every school he attends: Blessed Sacrament, Gonzaga, Notre Dame, Bullis and Georgetown. He is a good football player. He earns All Prep honors twice, a half scholarship on the ‘hamburger squad’ at Notre Dame and a full scholarship to Georgetown. He is fiercely loyal to all of his schools, especially Gonzaga. Gonzaga is his school and he is their highest ideal. He is a founding father of the legendary 44 Club and they all remain close friends. Jim Nalls is a man for others.

It is 1932 and there is little Jimmy Nalls singing for candy bars in front of the drug store on Brookeville Rd. As he grows older, he loves to sing and fancies himself a singer, but he is not. He is a showman. He sings and performs any time he gets a chance, oftentimes uninvited. He sings with joy and he spreads joy when he is in front of people. That is why we love it.

Private James Nalls is stationed at the US Army base in Fort Dix, NJ. He is on his knees next to his bunk, saying his nightly prayers. Despite the curious stares and ridicule from the other soldiers, he does this every night. He is a man of faith who has the courage of his conviction. God is with him and he knows it.

Jim is not guilty of taking himself too seriously. He values goodness over greatness. When he meets Joan Goggins and she asks him about his military service, he replies: “I defended Philadelphia… and it’s still there.” He loves to laugh and tell stories. What little filter he has as a younger man is completely gone as a senior. But however inappropriate he is sometimes, somehow he always gets away with it, probably because his heart is true.

Jim Nalls is the son of John Willard Nalls and Edna Mazzullo Nalls. His brother Willard is one of his best friends. He loves his sister Eleanor and admires her beautiful singing voice. He loses his brother Michael tragically. Remarkably, he is blessed with another baby brother Malcolm who is 21 years younger. When Jim is a young man, his Dad always tells him: ‘Even if you have a little hot dog stand, if it’s your own business you’ll be better off.’  Jim makes Poppy proud by becoming owner and president of the Lockwood Dental Company after over 20 years of selling Cadillacs.

JT is skiing in Snowmass, CO. He loves to ski and takes many memorable ski trips, but this trip is different. He is 71 years old. At his friend Joe Merrilli’s funeral, Joe’s very gracious children had invited the old man to their annual family ski trip, not realizing that JT was the kind of man who would actually show up. So this is day three. He catches the edge of his ski in the snow, falls ass over teakettle, and breaks his tailbone.  Mom is furious, so I am assigned the task of taking him to the doctor.

When I arrive, he is standing stark naked in front of the bathroom sink. He is in too much pain to dress. He is 71. He has been through double bypass surgery, colon cancer, kidney removal, Meniere’s disease, high blood pressure, diabetes and a half a dozen mishaps similar to this one. It is not a pretty sight. He looks over at me with a crooked grin and a sparkle in his eye and says: ‘Best three days of skiing of my life!!’

He is the ultimate optimist. Appropriately, he joins the Optimist Club and the Knights of Columbus. He believes that every golfer is entitled to at least one miracle putt per round. He doesn’t leave his seat if there is time left on the clock, because he knows that anything can happen.

There is JT, holding the flagstick for Doc Crilley on the 3rd hole at Columbia Country Club. JT is wearing double knit polyester trousers with a spandex waistband designed for variances in girth… lime green. At this precise moment in time, the spandex gives in to an eight year battle against the force of JT’s belly, and finally snaps! The lime green double knits flop harmlessly to the putting green, revealing a worn pair of boxer briefs. Doc Crilley, true to form, makes his miracle putt.

There is Pepa on his tractor. He waves proudly when you pull up to the barn. The ‘drugstore farmer’ is in his cowboy hat and is cutting his grass in anticipation of the next big family or Gonzaga event. He loves his place on Bullfrog Rd and he loves it when people come to enjoy it with him.

Pepa is great at being Pepa. He loves his grandchildren and their children too. He is thrilled at every wedding and every baptism. He loves going to games or shows, watching games or shows, or just presiding at family events. He never loses his passion for sports… or for food. His grandkids know not to leave a cookie within his reach. It is less than a month away from his final meal and he is banging his silverware on the table in anxious anticipation of his dinner. Every bowl of ice cream receives the same greeting: “That little bit! Is that all I get?”

There is Pepa again. It is Christmas and he is surrounded by most of his 27 grandchildren and his 22 great grandchildren. He is the perfect patriarch. He loves them all and he loves being around them. The feeling is mutual. Santa miraculously comes to the house. Pepa drinks it in…. can’t wait to go to choir.  He is Christmas in our family.

And so it goes… The polyester fabric of humanity can no longer hold the girth of a jolly old soul. Today there is a hole in our family, in our community of friends, and within each of us who loved him, that can never be filled. But if you are a man of faith, and an optimist, like my father, then maybe you know that it is not a hole but a window. And if you are the kind of person who can quiet your mind and see through that window, then you will see a new star in the heavens, with a crooked grin and a sparkle in his eye. There is James Thomas Nalls. There is my father.