James Lyle Blummer

Born in Houston on April 14, 1959, to Paul Edward Blummer and Sara Ann Blummer, James was the youngest of six children—the baby of the family. In true James fashion, the last one out of the womb became the first one into Heaven. Those who knew him well know there may have been just enough of a competitive streak in him to appreciate that distinction.

James attended Oak Forest Elementary School, Black Middle School, and Waltrip High School. He continued his education at the University of Houston, where he earned his bachelor’s degree in hospitality management.

His career took him to San Antonio, where he lived for a time while working at the Tower of the Americas. Throughout his working years, he also held positions at Luther’s, Valley Ranch, The Home Depot, and Nationwide Tools & Supplies. His varied career reflected his adaptability, strong work ethic, resourcefulness, and willingness to take on just about any challenge placed before him.

James was the very definition of a Blummer: a little socially awkward, incredibly stubborn (although he would have preferred the word determined), and endlessly handy, creative, inventive, and resourceful. He was independent, loyal, dependable, and a natural problem-solver. You could hand him a perfectly good set of directions, and he would immediately decide they were merely a suggestion. He could fix almost anything, find a solution when no one else could, and was always willing to show up when someone needed his help.

Although James was a man of few words and did not always express his emotions openly, he loved his family deeply. Nowhere was that more evident than in the way he loved his daughters. Catherine and Liz always knew their dad would be there. He attended their games, concerts, lessons, drove whatever distance was necessary for school and activities, and created a home that remained a safe place for them throughout their lives.

James taught his daughters that they had freedom to make their own choices. He assured them that he would always be there, while also making certain they understood that every decision came with consequences. He gave them the freedom to become their own people while providing the steady love, guidance, and accountability they needed along the way.

James was also completely on board with whatever crazy ideas his daughters came up with. When they were young, he let them pretend they were hosting a cooking show in the house, even as they mixed random ingredients and created some truly disgusting smells. He would let them build tree houses on top of the swing set, even though it would have never passed an inspection code. He encouraged them to express themselves by painting their bedroom walls different colors and turning the living room into a stage for dance performances and concerts. After watching Cat remember every word to every song, James often questioned how she could memorize all those lyrics but somehow could not remember what she needed to pass a test at school.

Their childhood was also filled with games of Around the World and Four Square in the driveway, kickball in the front yard, numerous water balloon fights, and countless rounds of Mexican Train, Uno, and Connect 4, which Liz vividly remembers because her dad never let her win. Apparently, building character was more important than taking it easy on his daughter.

James even let his daughters miss school when he thought it was worth it, such as when he took them to Catherine’s high school basketball playoff game in Austin. On the way, he got pulled over for speeding, which made Liz nervously ask if he was going to jail.

The fun did not end when his daughters became adults. Their time together sometimes turned into late-night house parties with Catherine, Liz, and Don, complete with drinks, music, laughter, and funny stories. Their adventures also included games of bingo, trips to Mexico and Florida, visits to amusement parks, drag shows, Formula 1 virtual reality, and late nights playing pool at NJ’s. No matter the activity—or how unusual the plan may have sounded—James was almost always along for the ride.

James was also the proud grandfather of four-legged grandchildren: granddogs Bruno and Rudi and grandcats Buffy and Scarlet. While James was in the hospital, Catherine and Liz made the humbling discovery that neither of them held the title of favorite child. That honor was apparently shared in a tie between Don, his son-in-law, and Rudi, Liz’s dog. It was a ranking his daughters may never fully recover from, but one that brought much-needed laughter during a difficult time.

On the final Friday of James’s life, Catherine and Liz spent the day beside him at the hospital, loving him and making sure he was not alone. After they left that evening and had each reached their respective safe places, they received the call that their dad had taken his final breath. Even in his last moments, it felt as though James was still being their dad, waiting until he knew his girls were safe before peacefully letting go.

James never wanted to inconvenience anyone and was known for saying, “Don’t worry about me.” But those who loved him always did, because he mattered more to them than he probably ever realized. His love was rarely loud or complicated; it was steady, dependable, and demonstrated through his presence in every serious, silly, ordinary, and unforgettable moment. He was always ready for a good time, a new project, or an opportunity to lend a hand. His quiet loyalty, unmistakable humor, resourcefulness, and steadfast presence will be deeply missed.

James was preceded in death by his father, Paul Edward Blummer; his mother, Sara Ann Blummer; his niece, Sara Lin Blummer; and his brother-in-law, Gary Haught.

He is survived by his daughters, Catherine Blummer and Elizabeth Nash and her husband, Don Nash; his siblings, William Blummer, Arthur Blummer and his wife, Nannette, Carl Blummer, Thomas Blummer and his wife, Suzanne, and Ina Haught; six nieces and nephews; seven great-nieces and great-nephews; his beloved granddogs, Bruno and Rudi; his grandcats, Buffy and Scarlet; and many extended family members and friends who loved him dearly.

James’s life was not defined by grand speeches or elaborate gestures. It was defined by showing up, solving problems, caring for the people he loved, and making sure his girls always had a safe place to land. His daughters will carry his love, lessons, humor, determination, and unmistakable Blummer spirit with them for the rest of their lives.

Last one out of the womb, first one into Heaven.

Rest peacefully, Dad. You were loved more than words could ever say, and we will carry you with us forever.