Jim volunteered for Domestic Violence and Rape Crisis Services of Saratoga County (DVRC). At DVRC's 30th anniversary we formally remembered this fine man who had not only helped so many victims of abuse, but who had become our friend. Here are our words as we remembered our friend:

Last May, DVRC lost a good friend, a dedicated volunteer and an inspiring role model. Jim Loveday began volunteering for our hotline in 2009, but he so quickly became part of the DVRC family that it’s hard to imagine we only knew him for 3 years. Many callers were initially surprised to hear a male voice when they called the hotline. His gentle caring manner quickly overcame reticence. Whether in person or over a phone line, Jim’s warmth, kindness and compassion shone through.

Shortly after beginning as a hotline volunteer, Jim asked how he could do more to help DVRC. He began volunteering in our office providing phone  coverage during staff meetings. This is where we really got to know Jim. From the first hello and immediate eye contact, Jim made everyone feel special. He didn’t just volunteer; he became part of the team. He joined us at fundraising events…where we finally got to meet his daughters. Jim spoke so frequently about his daughters that we felt like we already knew them. There was no doubt in his mind that, above all, he cherished his family and delighted in camping trips and holiday dinners.

Jim always had a book with him, but we think his secret talent was that of story teller. At a wine tasting fundraiser, Jim was seated with several staff and a couple from out of town. Jim delighted the couple telling them about Saratoga and about volunteering at DVRC. His passion for life was contagious. By the end of the evening he had so charmed the couple, we were almost certain they were considering selling their home, relocating to this area, and volunteering for DVRC. All because Jim was so enthusiastic about how much he enjoyed each day.

No mention of Jim Loveday could omit what a wonderful and bounteous cook he was. Whenever an opportunity presented itself, Jim would astound us with a culinary creation. He didn’t just bring a dish to share; he provided us a celebration. His Jambalaya is legendary. His cooking, his volunteerism, his stories about family…they all have the same theme…a generous man spreading love person-to-person in everything he did. For this reason we all choose to remember Jim smiling and offering a huge platter of Jambalaya — spreading love, helping others, making every moment of life count.

Hi Dad,

So, when I was in my 20's I remember telling you that unless you walked me down the isle, I refused to get married.  You made me eat my words this year.  Just as you passed, I realized that the only other person who could ever walk me down the isle and give me away would have to be the only other person on the planet that you created - my sister.

You know she's been my rock - strong and steady, keeping me from sinking.  We grabbed each other's hands and asked each other if we were alright, we told each other not to cry and then as soon as we got to the top of the isle, we both pretty much lost our composure.  I chose to post the before picture rather than the after because I know you would have preferred to see your girls smiling.

Actually, I know it because you pulled it off.  Every instance during that ceremony when things were getting heavy and emotions were running rampant, I figure you must have poked the peacock.  For those of you reading this, and wondering, yes there were actual peacocks at the wedding venue.  Poking the peacock is not some weird saying I made up.  So anyway dad, you poked the peacock and he went "CAW!!!!!!"  Every time it happened, we all burst out laughing.

Well, anyway, that walk down the isle was the longest walk I feel like I've ever taken.  I wish you could have been there to hold my hand.  I really missed my father/daughter dance, but I danced my feet off and howled with the crowd during Werewolves of London.

 "He's the hairy, hairy gent,
  who ran amok in Kent,
  Lately he's been overheard in Mayfair.
 
  You better stay away from him,
  He'll rip your lungs out Jim.  
  Huh, I'd like to meet his tailor.
 
  Aaahoo, Werewolves of London
  Aaahoo, Werewolves of London"

I wish I had known what song you wanted to dance with me to.  We never did get to pick it.  Maybe its better off that I don't know, that way I won't be sad when I hear it and think of what didn't come to be.  Instead, I can be happy and howl at the moon.

I miss you dad.  Love you forever.
Love,
Kate 

I knew Mr. Loveday as the first Dad I had ever met who cooked, a dad who was kind and caring, and a Dad who loved his daughter unconditionally.  Of course he wasn't my Dad, he was my friend Katy's Dad, but with the amount of time Katy and I spent together as children, Mr. Loveday was like a Dad to me. 

My fondest memory was camping in Lake George...which apparently he is famous for as I read the other posts on this site.  I remember heading up to Lake George with my Dad, following the maroon pickup truck with the white letters JEEP on the back. Our Dad's set up small tents for Katy and I, and then set up their own, while Katy and I hung out in her cool tent.  It was cool because it was bigger than mine...plus she had a big air mattress with a down comforter, a feather pillow, a radio, and plenty of cards and games.  My little tent, was equipped with a pool float for an air mattress and a plain old sleeping bag. ha ha! 

Our Dads had a lot to talk about without our moms around.  They played the cool parent and let us go into town all by ourselves (I believe they were just across the street or something, but we still felt we were on our own).  Katy and I played in the arcade and then we walked back to the tents with our Dads.  Ah the good old times. 

Forgive me Katy, if I got any details mixed up...we were so young.  Your Dad was the best.  I love how you call him papa bear, it is so fitting.  I looked in my old photo albums for a picture of Mr. Loveday and could only find a picture of Katy and I (along with my neighbor Nicole) at one of my Birthday parties at the Roller Rink.  Remember those days Katy?  My prayers go out to you and your sister.  May fond memories of your Dad make you smile and be strong. 

love
Julia (Robinson) Bargo

When Shawn and I got engaged on Christmas Day 2010, I remember dad saying to me "I'm glad you finally got rid of all of those frogs!"

I trusted my father's judgement over my own.  History shows that my taste in men went from bad to worse.  Because of this, when I met Shawn I gave him the disclaimer: "You have to meet my father right away because if he doesn't like you this relationship will never work and I don't want to waste your time or mine." 

Shawn didn't balk at that which was the first good sign.  They met within one month of Shawn and I meeting and dad liked him.  Fast forward to two years after that happened and Shawn proposed.

Dad was happy that I had finally found a prince instead of wasting my time kissing frogs. 

I met Jim in the early 1970s through my college roommate, PJ, who worked at the telephone company and knew Jim through his job at Western Electric.

After graduation, PJ and I moved into an apartment together on Dove Street in Albany. We were two young women, working at our first real jobs and hoping our paychecks stretched to the end of the month to cover our living expenses. Since our apartment had electric heat, the bill we dreaded most came from the power company.  

Even though we kept the heat turned down, the electric bill was always enormous -- more than double what we were paying in rent. We didn't know how long we could keep living in the apartment.

PJ must have mentioned our situation to Jim because one Saturday afternoon he arrived at the apartment and asked to see our electric bills. He reviewed them, asked permission to look around the apartment and then took a flashlight and headed to the basement to inspect the electric meter. When he returned, he announced that he knew why our bills were so high: Two other apartments in the building were hooked into our meter. 

Once that situation was rectified, our electric bills were more reasonable, allowing us to stay in our first apartment. Jim had come to our rescue, and I never forgot his kindness to us. He and I became friends.

We stayed in touch after he moved to Texas, and we were reunited when he moved to Pleasant Valley, which is near Poughkeepsie, my hometown. I was able to visit the Lovedays when I was in town visiting my family. That's when I got to know Kate and even used her as a child model in a photo shoot I held at Jim's house for a magazine article I was writing as a freelancer. 

After Jim moved to Clifton Park, he called and invited me for coffee. I was delighted to hear from him because we had lost touch over the years. We spent four hours at Panera, drinking coffee and catching up. 

When a noted economist was scheduled to speak at the University at Albany, I suggested to Jim that we attend, knowing his interest in politics. We had dinner before the event at Quintessence, one of our regular haunts when PJ, Jim and I were friends in the 1970s. 

Of course, the conversation turned to those days, and I reminded Jim that he had helped solve a huge problem for PJ and me with the electric meter. He remembered, and I thanked him for coming to the rescue. In true Jim fashion, he said he had been glad to help, especially since it had meant that two young women would be able to continue living in their first apartment in Albany.   

Jim was a wonderful friend, and I will miss him.       
 
   


  

My cousin, Jimmy, and I were born 14 years apart.  He lived in Voorheesville and I in Cohoes.  Actually, his grandmother was my mom's sister (my Aunt Catherine).  His mom was my first cousin (Eleanor). 

I sometimes spent the night at his family home in Voorheesville but I have only a few memories of him actually living there because of the age difference.  One of my favorites was playing with his dog, Binky, in the back yard.  Jimmy covered me up with about four feet of leaves during one Fall visit...that's how we figured out I had allergies.   Jimmy had joined the Marines when I was about 6 or 7.

After he married Roz, Susan's mother, they built a home in Berne.  I remember loving that house for two reasons: it bordered Thatcher Park and the stones used in the stone fireplace were from the park and had fossils in it.  I think Susan was a baby at that time.
 
When Kate was born, my family could not get over how closely she resembled Susan.  Jim and Kate lived in Pleasant Valley.  We didn't see them too much but whenever Jim was in the area, travelling for his job, he would always call me.  We would meet up at the Hilton for a few cocktails and to catch up.

It wasn't until Roz passed, Jim and I made plans to meet up in Lake George.  He and Kate camped there along with Susan and her family at times.  My daughter, Elle, my friend, Annemarie and her girls, Sarah and Nicole  began camping with them a few years back.  It is now a tradition.  One that we will carry on in Big Bear's honor.     


   
    

Family was everything to Jimmy. 

There wasn't a question in his mind that he would be at Kerry's graduation from Siena last year.   And we were able to share a memorable family dinner at LeSerre
s restaurant, where this photo was taken.