James Roy Howard Sr.

Jim Howard Sr.’s worldly journey came to an end on November 19, 2025, at the age of 77, at home in Concord, New Hampshire, with his wife and children holding his hands. And what an incredible journey it was—led with unwavering love and devotion, filled with humor, fueled by adventure, and defined by a deep appreciation for the true miracle that he got to spend even a single day alive on Earth, let alone more than 77 years with his family, friends and community. Because of the way he lived his life with us, and how he shared his passions and perspective, his spirit and energy will remain, bouncing around us all, and the mountains and waters he loved, for as long as any of it exists.

He spent his final years facing the challenge of Alzheimer’s Disease. As the early symptoms began to show around the age of 70, he lived with it as he did most things—with compassion, and an understanding that what was happening was to be part of his experience here. He brought us with him on the journey. He showed empathy for what he knew we were going to endure in helping to care for him. He showed us that he accepted that any pain and suffering is part of the human condition, and would be far outweighed by the greatness of the life he lived.  Most importantly, right up through his very last moments, he never lost sight of his guiding principle: to make the most of every single day, with his loving wife of 47 years, Denise; his children and their partners—Jim Jr. and his wife, Annie; Bonnie Sisak and her husband, Stephen; and Alfred and his partner, Caitrin Brisson; his five grandchildren—Clara, Lucy, Sam, Margot, and Stella; his sister, Janis Wharff, and her husband, Wesley; his sister-in-law, Virginia Dimarco; his brother-in-law, Thomas Daudelin; and his friends and family from New Hampshire, New Jersey and beyond. He was predeceased by his parents, Roy and Pearl, of Sangerville, Maine.

Jim was born on February 7, 1948, at Patterson General Hospital in Patterson, New Jersey. He attended Manchester Regional High School in North Haledon and participated on the school’s track & field team, running hurdles. He graduated in 1966 and, in the fall of that year, enrolled as an undergraduate at the Pennsylvania Military College (PMC) in Chester, Pennsylvania. While at PMC, Jim was a member of the college’s national champion Pershing Rifles Drill Team, traveling the country, performing precision routines in ceremonies and competitions. Decades later, on family hikes, he would sometimes keep everyone moving on the trail with his marching orders of “left, left, left-right-left.” He graduated from the civilian side of PMC (now Widener University) in 1970.

In 1972, Jim obtained a master’s degree in public administration from Southern Methodist University (SMU), in Dallas, Texas.  While he was in graduate school, Jim’s parents, Roy and Pearl, and his sister, Janis, moved from New Jersey to an 85-acre farm on Silvers Mills Road, in Sangerville, Maine.  Roy and Pearl’s farm, with its fields, pond, cattle and horses, Farm-All Cub tractor, flower and vegetable gardens, and giant barn, was a place of respite, family gatherings and adventure for decades.

After graduating from SMU, Jim returned to New Jersey to begin a 40-year career as a committed public servant in municipal finance.  Around this time, he began to explore the great outdoors in earnest, canoeing and camping in the Delaware Water Gap, and frequently traveling to Maine to paddle with his father, and to ride horses on the farm with his sister. In the mid-1970s he worked in New Jersey for the city of Newark, then as assistant finance director for the county of Passaic, and finally as finance director for the town of Teaneck. It was in Passaic where he met the love of his life, Denise, who worked as an administrator in his office. They married in 1978, and later that year, their first son, Jim Jr., was born. Their daughter, Bonnie, was born in New Jersey two years later.

But with the farm in Maine on the northern horizon, and a burgeoning drive toward adventure in the outdoors, in late 1980, Jim moved his young family from New Jersey to Concord, New Hampshire to take the job as the city’s first Finance Director, a position he would hold until he retired 30 years later, in 2010. Soon after moving to New Hampshire, Jim and Denise’s third child, Alfred, was born. 

Jim worked hard for his community for three decades. He found deep value in his many contributions to the city of Concord. He spent long hours, nights and weekends, especially during budget season, grinding away, with an eye toward fiscal responsibility and sustainability. He could be found late at night, alone in a 2nd floor conference room in Concord City Hall, with the Talking Heads, Radiohead or Pink Floyd playing on a speaker, working and reworking spreadsheets, first on paper, and then later, as he led the push to modernize the city finance infrastructure, on computers. He worked closely with several City Managers, including, for 9 years, Duncan Ballantyne, a dear friend he referred to as “Braveheart,” who died in 2013, as well as with current City Manager, Tom Aspell. After retiring from the City of Concord in 2010, Jim consulted in the municipal finance field, taught courses he developed at the University of New Hampshire on public finance and sustainability, and he immersed himself in grassroots political causes. He was a staunch opponent of gerrymandering and dark money in politics, believing firmly that true democracy is more than just a form of government, it is an ethos for living that reflects the inherent worth and fair potential of every individual in a society, which we have a moral obligation to protect. He canvassed and knocked on thousands of doors in support of local candidates in New Hampshire who championed these views.

Of all the things in Jim’s life, what made his spirit soar, and what drove his life force, was adventures in the mountains and waters of New England and the American west—with his family, and a few close friends.

He began rock and ice climbing in the early 1980s in the White Mountains, topping out many challenging routes with his friend John Courtney on Cannon Cliff, the Black Dike, the Eaglet, Whitehorse and Cathedral Ledges, Rumney, Frankenstein Cliff and Huntington Ravine. He was a prolific hiker for decades. He covered all of New Hampshire’s forty-eight 4,000-foot peaks with his good buddy, Andy Lane. He hiked and climbed in the Cascades, Rocky Mountain National Park, the Tetons, Wyoming’s Wind Rivers, Utah’s Wasatch, and in the American southwest.

Jim loved adventures on the water. He was an avid whitewater kayaker and C-1 closed-canoe boater. He paddled big water with his father, as Roy kayaked well into his 70s. In the mid-1990s, he taught himself to windsurf, because, while he wanted to spend as many moments as possible with Denise, he didn’t love sitting on the beach. Windsurfing offered a way to be near his wife and taste some adventure. This turned into a passion for sailing as well. He sailed the Boston Harbor out of the Boston Sailing Center as well as in Charlotte Habor, Florida, near his and Denise’s winter home in Punta Gorda. He raced J-80s on Lake Winnipesaukee for many years.

Jim was a serious road, gravel and mountain biker right up until the last couple years of his life. He would regularly do mixed-surface rides from his house in Concord, to the summit of Mt. Kearsarge, hike over the top with his bike strapped on his shoulders, ride down the other side back along the Northern Rail Trail, returning home to Pleasant View Avenue. An 80-mile loop, road and trail, hike-a-bike over a summit, at 73 years old. He pedaled the highly technical trails behind Concord Hospital thousands of days over 30 years living in Concord’s West End. He knew and loved every root and rock on those trails. He mountain biked all over New England, the Pacific Northwest, and in northern and southern Utah. In 2011, Jim pedaled the 100-mile White Rim Trail in Canyonlands National Park with his pal Norm O’Neil and his sons and their friends. He loved a full day in the saddle at Kingdom Trails in Vermont—40 or more miles—finishing with a swim in the river and a beer at the Tiki Bar. 

His favorite part of all these adventures, and the element that really filled his soul, was to share it with his family. He kept a detailed journal of family hikes, climbs, camping and canoe trips for more than two decades.

He was fortunate toward the end of his life to share these experiences with his five grandchildren—Clara, Lucy, Sam, Margot and Stella—complete with hikes in the Winant and Swope woods of Concord, and full-family mountain bike rides at Kingdom Trails. You could see on his face that he felt completely content as a 75-year-old grandfather on Heaven’s Bench, with all his kids and grandkids on bikes, together.

Jim was an avid gardener. He loved sitting by his patio garden with Denise on a summer evening, after hours of yardwork, sharing a glass of wine, or walking his grandchildren through his perennials—grown from bulbs, roots and cuttings that he divided from his grandmother’s garden in New Jersey, more than 40 years ago.

Although Jim enjoyed the first 32 years of his life in New Jersey, his soul took root in New Hampshire. He was a man of New Hampshire and was an explorer here, in every sense. On its coldest winter nights, he could be found with his headlamp on, alone after dark, in the woods of Concord, breaking trail on his cross-country skis.  He paddled its rapids, sailed and windsurfed its lakes, climbed its icicles and granite cliffs, hiked every one of its 4,000-foot peaks, pedaled its singletrack and its long country roads. He admired its artists, including his friend Farid Haddad, and traveled many times to Cornish Colony to be among “the Oaks,” Maxfield Parrish, and Augustus St. Gaudens.  In the mid-1990s he discovered the New Hampshire poet, Donald Hall, as the author wrote about the grief of losing his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, to cancer. He would travel the state, attending prose and poetry readings in small churches and old schoolhouses. At a reading and celebration of Jane’s life at the Concord Auditorium in October of 1995, Jim discovered the poet, Robert Bly.  This was the start of what would be three decades of deep inquiry and introspection into comparative mythology, depth psychology, and spiritual humanism. Through Bly, Jim discovered Joseph Campbell, through Campbell, he discovered Carl Jung. His study of Jung brought him to Stanford humanities lectures. Before the age of podcasts, Jim would record tapes of these lectures. He would drive around New Hampshire in an old blue van or green Jetta—as he traveled to hike, to teach at UNH, or to canvas the electorate—and he would listen to these tapes.  It was decades of exploration and self-discovery that ultimately led him to his core tenet—that THIS was the point—this process of discovery, this exploration, the simple awareness of being alive, being grateful for it, and building compassion—for oneself and the human condition—is what makes us who we are.  And when you can do it all with a steady dose of laughter, and without taking everything too seriously, well then somewhere along the way, bliss is to be found. This is what should provide us all with comfort today, as we know that his loss, and our grief, are part of our own exploration, and or own journey. It brings us together—to feel pain together, to find comfort together, to laugh together, and to lead us to love and appreciate each other, and each moment, that much more.

It is said that the hero has a thousand faces, and, by God, his was certainly one. 

A celebration of life will be held at Phenix Hall at 38 N. Main Street in Concord on Wednesday, December 10, 2025, from 4PM to 7PM. If you’d like to share a sentiment or a story, please post it to the Legacy.com page or email it to [email protected].

In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to the Jim Howard Sr. Trails Fund with the New Hampshire Charitable Foundation (https://give.nhcf.org/jimhowardsr). Donations are tax deductible and will be used to support the trail systems, conservation efforts and charitable causes that Jim loved. And . . . most importantly . . . make every day count.