James "Jimmy" McIntire

James Louis McIntire, a man of few words and immense wit, passed peacefully on September 29, 2025. He leaves behind a legacy of laughter, stubborn charm, and perfectly seasoned meals. Of Scottish descent, Jimmy lived life on his own terms — clever, unconventional, and always with a dash of mischief.

He is survived by his beloved spouse of 33 years, Marilyn Dickinson, who loved him through every wild detour — including his habit of exiting moving vehicles, insisting the remote control was his domain, and delivering his signature one-liners at maximum volume. His children, Erica and David McIntire, carry forward his creativity, compassion, and an uncanny ability to detect bullshit from a mile away.

Jimmy was a tender soul wrapped in a dry sense of humor. His love for sports and tomfoolery traces back to his childhood. In 1972, he skipped school to celebrate the Bruins’ championship and landed on the front page of the Boston Herald — a moment of rebellious glory he never stopped talking about.

He appreciated a well-cooked meal and a perfectly-timed joke. Cooking was his passion, and he was his own worst critic. But his family and friends cherished those meals made with great care and a good deal of impatience. Music, from rock to orchestral movie scores — was always playing on repeat — and his enthusiasm for sharing new songs verged on obsession.

An avid reader and political junkie, Jim devoured everything from historical biographies and Raymond Chandler novels to Hemmings Motor News. Detective shows — specifically, all things British — were another source of delight and inspiration. Fascinated by different countries, cultures, and compelling stories, he never judged others and had a soft spot for the underdog. He had a firm intolerance for stupidity, bad writing, and excessive sentimentality — but his heart was always open.

Preceded in death by his mother, Michelle M. Faria, in September 2024 — who always insisted he had the most beautiful head of hair. And honestly, she wasn’t wrong. From childhood to silver strands, it was a crown he wore proudly, and everyone who met him took notice.

Jim will be missed more than words can say. We’ll remember him in the meals we cook, the mysteries we read, and the quiet times — like sipping a Bushwacker on Diane and Tracey’s porch — one of his favorite pastimes.

So, raise a glass. Cue up a Bruins game. And remember Jimmy with love, curiosity, and a touch of charisma and defiance.