JAK

I stood before many of you two weeks ago to say farewell to my mother. I stand before you today in sadness and shock as we say farewell to another one of a kind. Jerry Killam was a loving husband, father and grandfather. Lois has a heavy heart and a feeling of emptiness, with the sudden loss of her soul mate. Rich, Shelley and Danny have feelings of sadness and worry as they prepare to let go of their father and embrace their heartbroken mother. The grandkids have feelings of sorrow and grief because the Patriarch of their family has been taken from them too early. You always hear “Life isn’t fair.” It’s days like today, that you truly comprehend that saying, as the pain of losing someone so special cuts so deep.
That’s not how Jerry lived his life, however, and he would not want us to be sad or bitter. Jerry took his lumps throughout life, and even though he only stood slightly over five feet tall, he was a giant to his family, his friends, and this community. He always said, “Don’t knock short people.” Today, my friend, we wouldn’t think of knocking you!
Jerry always rose above conflict or adversity, and lived every day with a positive attitude and whimsical approach to life. No matter what the situation, Jerry could always find the good in someone or make a wisecrack to bring a smile to your face. When my Mom was in the hospital before Christmas, Jerry and Lois came to visit her, and he entered the room in his yellow protective gown but added his own “Killer” touch by wrapping a garbage bag around his head. He came in and sat down beside my Mom’s bed without cracking a smile, looking like an 80 year-old woman wearing a plastic rain hat. It made all of us laugh, including my Mom who struggled to smile during her final days. When we think of Jerry Killam, you have to smile. He had a childish, ornery side to him, but his personality was electric and could light up a room.
His ornery side started as a young boy when he once pulled a chair out from under T.H., leaving him lying on the floor. Jerry ran under the bed, out the door and down the lane to hide. He also kicked the pony that his cousin David Killam was riding out at Uncle Jess’s farm, causing the horse to buck David off and nearly crack his skull on the concrete. I’m sure Jerry’s sister Kay could share a few stories depicting Jerry’s ornery side as well.
To complement that ornery side, Jerry also had a soft and sweet side. Whether he was looking after Lois and the kids, or looking after other family members or the grandkids he adored, he did so with compassion and authenticity. He was one of the most caring and unselfish individuals I have ever met. When his Dad was sick and his Mom had to work in Springfield, Jerry went to his Dad’s house every day for a year to make him eggs and toast. When his kids were out during their younger, wilder days, Jerry would lurk in the darkness, waiting up for them to make sure they made it home safely. When Shelley needed something moved, he would bring his trailer up to Springfield to help her out. When Rich and Dan needed help on the farm or with anything else, he would always jump in to lend a hand. When Jay made Dane choke on a peppermint at the Macoupin County Fair, Jerry did the Heimlich Maneuver on Dane, stating “You’re lucky I watch COPS or I wouldn’t know how to do that.” When Tyler needed someone to take him for his shots, Grandpa Jerry came through. When Amanda played soccer, Jerry was one of her biggest fans on the sidelines. When he took Dalton and Kirsten to King’s Island, they had the time of their life. When their home was in the path of a tornado in 1979, he drove right along with the twister as it winded down Dutch Lane to get home to make sure Lois and the kids weren’t in harms way.
He went above and beyond for his friends and family. Last winter, he even cut my Dad’s toenails in Florida. I know many of you haven’t seen my Dad’s toenails, but I’m here to tell you, they’re not pretty. What he did was beyond the call of friendship as he sat Indian style at my Dad’s foundered feet and began the procedure. That’s the kind of man he was though—he would take care of his people from head to toe—literally! Jerry was an active member of Jaycees and the Macoupin County Fair Board. Annual trips to the Fair Convention with Bev & Dale, Jim & Gloria, Louie & Nancy, and Keith & Donna were always an event to remember. Throw my parents in the mix, and you have a pretty fun group of lifelong friends.
In addition to being a great friend and family man, he had a strong work ethic. It started as a young boy showing cattle in 4-H, which led him down the agricultural path to farming. He worked the fields in Bird and Carlinville Township for over 40 years. In his spare time he sold cars and machinery. Jerry was the type of guy who could sell ice to an Eskimo, and I know that first hand. He sold my Dad a car for my sister Jana, and I swear it had Alaskan license plates.
When it came to Jerry’s own vehicles though, it was a different story. In his most recent search for a new truck, he drove from Carlinville to Taylorville to Hillsboro to Kincaid to Effingham and back to Carlinville to buy it at Bates’. He loved to find the best deal, no matter what the purchase was, and if he had a coupon for something, it was even more exciting. Although he didn’t get to put many miles on the truck he just bought, he loved his truck as much as he loved country music. New truck or old truck, he always made it very clear, “this truck only gets country music.” Not too long ago, my parents went with Jerry and Lois out to Beaver Dam for supper. As they were listening to country music on the way back to town, Jerry said, “Greeny, pullover, pullover.” My Dad pulled over by Macoupin Station, Jerry got out in the middle of the road and started dancing, stating, “This music just sets my feet to dancing.” I can just hear Lois and Tootie now, cackling in the back seat.
When Jerry wasn’t driving a pick-up truck, a grain truck or a tractor, you may have seen him driving a big yellow school bus. It’s a wonder he still had a license after he was kicked off the Go Cart track in DuQuoin when him, John Rosentreter, Frank Meyers, Fred Smith and my Dad were being a little too rowdy. There are a lot more stories from the DuQuoin days, but we are in a church, so I will refrain.
Jerry was a wild man. From Illinois to Florida, he wreaked havoc on every acquaintance in-between. When he and Lois bought their place in Florida, he was in 7th heaven. He loved stopping off in Kentucky to see Gary and Cindy and always looked forward to connecting with his Florida friends, like Charlie, Dan, Keith, LB, Jimmy, Don and John Deere Eddie. Jerry loved going to flea markets and yard sales down there. He didn’t need a thing, but he always thought he might find something that would come in handy. He was a master at wheeling and dealing. There was one item at a sale that was marked 10 cents. He looked it over and said, “Would you take a nickel?”
Even while in Florida, his Carlinville roots would follow him as friends and family would come to visit. Last winter, Mike and Rhonda and my parents took a road trip to the sunshine state. After an afternoon of shopping and socializing, Mike and Jerry decided to have a foot race. If it weren’t for a last minute dive for the finish line that Tootie was holding, Jerry would have beaten him. Had he won that race, I am quite sure you would have seen him do the infamous chicken dance or “Killam Shuffle” with his elbows out, his feet foot loose and fancy free, and his smile wide.
Jerry always had a smile or a smirk on his face. He smiled as he strolled the beaches in Florida, wearing cowboy boots and swimming trunks with no leg showing and only tufts of hair sticking out above the boots. He smiled as he greeted Blue Mound Bob for coffee and then headed out to check on the boys at the RJD shop. He smiled as he came home very late one night, snuck into the bedroom as Lois was sleeping and sat on the edge of the bed to take his pants off. Lois woke up and said, “Jerry what are you doing up so early.” Jerry smiled as he pulled his pants right back up and said, “I have a world of work to do Lois,” and he went off to sleep in the tractor the rest of the day. He smiled when Rich, Shelley and Danny were born. His smile got brighter when Jay, Dane, Dalton, Amanda, Kirsten, and Tyler were born. He was busting at the seams when Allie came into their life.
Jerry Alfrey Killam, initials J-A-K was a friend, a farmer, a father, and the foundation to the Killam family. His cousin Matt Killam used to call him JAK for his initials. Although he answered to Jerry, he was a JAK of all trades. He could sell you a lawn mower, load it on his trailer, haul it to your house with his pick-up, and mow your yard without batting an eye. He was JAK in the Beanstalk, as he thrived on growing not only beans, but any other grain, grass or plant he could grow in his fields, lawn or garden. He was like JAK Benny as he entertained the masses and made people laugh. He was JAK be nimble, JAK be quick as his short, little legs propelled him in a foot race. He was like the whiskey JAK Daniels, with his intoxicating personality and zest for life. He was like Wolfman JAK, with his hairy arms, legs and chest. He was also the JAK of Hearts, as he loved his wife and his family more than anything in the world.
Jay will miss hearing him say, “When you sit down to eat, take your hat off or your hogs will die.” Amanda will miss hearing him say, “What are you Monkeys up to?” Lois will miss hearing him say, “I didn’t eat soup when I was poor.” Everyone will miss hearing him say “Adios”. It’s not goodbye however, it’s until we meet again. Jerry hated to be late, he was always on time, if not early. He definitely arrived to Heaven early, way too early. I can picture him now at the Pearly Gates trying to negotiate with St. Peter on how to get his trailer in with him. I’m sure Tootie is just inside the gate, asking St. Peter to let him bring the trailer in because she’s probably already accumulated a load of stuff that needs moved. Lois once said to Jerry, “Do you love me?” Jerry replied, “I’m still here, ain’t I?” He did love you Lois. He loved your entire family. Even though he’s not here anymore, he will live on in our memories and our hearts forever. Rest in peace little man—you left a huge footprint on this world.

Jeena Greenwalt
January 10, 2010