James Weldon Wesson

April 29, 1931 — November 22, 2020

This is an account of a man who walked a long and rich pilgrimage on earth. Not just the chronology, although

certainly the timeline is important, but an attempt to convey the depth of a life so well-lived. James Weldon Wesson

crossed over to the other side on a Sunday, November 22, 2020, and resides now in the beautiful City of God. To

capture his life story seems a task almost insurmountable, because the way he lived his days had so much to say to

all who knew him. Here are some of the highlights, written and ever remembered by his children:

Dad was born in April 29, 1931, and grew up in Mills County, Texas, the fourth of six children. The Wesson

heritage tells a tale of a clan tethered together in an unbreakable bond. Dad emphasized how fortunate he was to

grow up in a full and happy house, with a most humble and sweet mother, who served homemade biscuits and

popcorn by the hearth. His father was a share cropper who worked long days in the time of the depression.

Sometimes when reflecting on his childhood, dad emphasized to us the disparity between life then and life now.

With a matter-of-fact face, he would tell us how, as a child, he “walked ten miles to school, barefoot, in winter

snow.” We were very young, but old enough to question how in the world this could even be possible.

Understanding years later that Dad sometimes embellished to make a point, we had no doubt he and his siblings

learned to value hard work and education, alongside a deeply rooted family love.

Dad began college on a basketball scholarship. But he enlisted in the Navy in 1951 and was honorably discharged in

1955.He was a superb storyteller and gave detailed accounts of the pranks he and his buddies played along the way.

“Have I ever told you about dress blues and tennis shoes?” he would ask. And although he had, we always wanted

to hear those stories again and again because he told them so masterfully. After returning from the service, he

worked his way through college and finished his undergraduate degree at Texas Tech University. He moved to

Snyder town, Texas, to coach P.E., and that’s where he met our mom, Janet Chloe Hunt. Their 62-year marriage

speaks volumes towards the sanctity of a marriage. Dad wholeheartedly adored mom, and their faithfulness and love

for each other is unquestionable. Both started their careers as coaches and eventually earned Masters degrees in

counseling.Dad and mom shared all of life. We were privy to some of their deep conversations about education and

counseling and religion. We will remember every day the depth of devotion he had for mom and for the three of

us.

We were a tennis family, and from Dad we learned that tennis is a life time sport. He was an avid player who

personally coached us and came to every match we played. We also learned that there is “no excuse for double

faulting.” Dad took us to Texas tournaments and partnered with us in the mixed doubles and men’s doubles

competition. The thing is that his reputation as a skilled tennis player seemed much better known around town than

any of ours. He was probably around sixty-years old when he and one of his senior citizen tennis buddies challenged

some of the local high school stars to a match. The hotshot kids laughed at the challenge from the old men. But as

the story goes, the high school superstars hardly won a point. At least that’s the way dad told it.

Dad was the epitome of the great outdoorsman. Hunting and fishing with family and friends was Dad’s description

of fun. Jay and Jeff speak of so many memories of adventures with Dad and how he taught all of us, and later his

grandchildren, the beauty of being amidst nature’s wild life. He also had an affinity for dogs, especially the Brittany

spaniels he trained. And somewhere in all of that activity, without saying so out loud, dad conveyed how much

nature can enhance a life. He had high expectations for us all in that we have a tremendous responsibility for the

way we choose to live this one life. Dad strongly believed God is love and that our biggest calling is to

unconditionally love others without judging, until “you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.”

I’ve often heard about the sanctity of a daddy/daughter relationship. It isn’t something I wished for; it’s something I

had every single day of my life.He taught me how to read and write and ride a bike. Dad was a gentleman and a

scholar who made life fun to live. I remember, way back before I attended kindergarten, how he sometimes let me

comb and style his hair, even accentuate it with bright barrettes. But he certainly was a startled one day when his

good friend rang the doorbell and walked in, and there Dad was all fixed up from my lil’ salon.

Jay recalls that from the time we were small, Dad was a Christian example to us, saying “after I left home, I always

had a feeling of peace, knowing that home was just a phone call away. I loved listening to the stories of his

childhood. One that will go down in history is about he and his brother Kenneth. The story goes that Dad sprinkled

sand on a large pile of cow manure, then drew a line in the dirt and challenged his brother to jump from the line into

the pile of “sand.” His brother gladly took on the challenge, jumping from the line with both feet, landing directly in
the pile of sand and sliding all the way, and chunking rocks at dad. Jeff remembers so well all the hunts and the

tennis matches and particularly the unspoken expectation to seek the things that matter most.

East Side Church of Christ was the church Dad loved and attended for so many years. He has a long history there of

serving as an elder, taking communion to the elderly and visiting those in the hospital. But his servant-hood went far

beyond formal church, especially in the students he coached and counseled. Numerous stories have been told from

former students who recount the influence and encouragement received from dad, words that made a difference in a

life.

Our dad was preceded in death by his mother, Lillie Wesson, and father, Craig Wesson, by his two sisters, Ovella

Knight and June Jernigan, and his brother, J.C. Wesson. He is also survived by and especially close to his brother

Kenneth Wesson and his sister Wanda Westlake, and a host of wonderful nieces and nephews.

Dad leaves quite a legacy. He eventually became “Pop” by his grandchildren, eight of nine who survive him, along

with twelve great grandchildren. And by the time he died, most everyone called him “Pop.”

Dad is survived by his wife Janet and our mom and by us, their three children:

Pop is survived by Jana Wesson-Martin and husband Ricky Martin , their son Ricky Wesson Martin (Wes).

Their other son Jed preceded Pop in death, and so Pop is survived by Jed’s wife Lindsey and their children, Pop’s

great grandchildren, Tober and Livi Martin.

Pop is survived by the family of his son Jay Wesson and wife Deborah - their daughter Kalli and her children, his

great grandchildren Autumn and Emilie; their son JW; their daughter Tayla and husband Hayden Saylor, as well as

their son, Pop’s youngest great grandchild JD.

Pop is survived by the family of his youngest son Jeff Wesson and wife Holly - their daughter Micah Mitchell and

husband Brad and their children, Pop’s great grandchildren, Heidi, Halle, and Wyatt; their daughter Jacey Dennard

and husband Dex and their children, Pop’s great grandchildren, Deacon and Jaye; by Craig Wesson and wife Kallie

and their children, Pop’s great grandchildren, Jolene and Carter Craig; and lastly Pop is survived by their son Cody,

one of the nine of Pop’s grandchildren.

Pop is survived by two very dear people who lived next door: Ila Ruth Newton and Barbara Sojourner, who we

called “Slo” and “Goof.” They babysat us as children and shared our lives and are our forever family.

Maybe is in the lyrical poetry of music that best concludes this unfinished summary of Dad’s life. Several

Christmases ago, we gifted Dad with an Alexa . I wish we had taken a pic of the perplexed and joyful look on his

face, when he realized he could call up most any song. Alexa became Dad’s daily companion, although he often

chided her if she didn’t get it right. He listened to music every day, recalling songs from way back when.Dad comes

from and leaves us with a “long line of love.”There is much for us to learn from his life and much to hold close

until we see him again. “Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then. It’s a love without end. Amen.”

To order memorial trees or send flowers to the family in memory of James Weldon Wesson, please visit our flower store.

Service Schedule

Past Services

Funeral Service

Saturday, November 28, 2020

11:00am - 12:00 pm (Central time)

East Side Church of Christ

201 31st Street, Snyder, TX 79549

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