37? Geez...Codolences and prayers to his family. Very Sad.
Fantastic natural ability to tell a tale, bring one into the moment.
Too Young.
J. Guthrie, 37, died April 12. Why is it the good die young? Quick wit, outgoing, always made everyone feel comfortable and welcome. “Mister Jim, pour yourself a drink, pull up a chair, and let’s talk,” he would say in that casual, southern drawl.
J. was a special talent, a special friend. Think deep-fried catfish, gumbo, jumbalaya, black-eyed peas, ham hocks, and turnip greens—and his love of firearms, hunting and shooting—when you remember J. Guthrie. This good old boy was as southern as southern gets. His family had roots in the Deep South, and he was proud as hell that he had family fight for the Confederacy during the Civil War.
RIP J.