Tribute to Jeff Monroe Long

Jeffery Monroe Long

HIGH POINT — High Point resident Jeffery Monroe Long, 48, died suddenly Thursday night, March 27, 2008, at High Point Regional Hospital.

A memorial service will be held 2 p.m. Sunday, March 30, in First Presbyterian Church by the Reverend Dr. Kenneth Broman-Fulks.

He was a self-employed freelance photographer who often covered High Point Market events and whose work was most recently featured in American Profiles in a feature story about High Point. He also worked part-time for Tru-Colors.

Son of Arless Long of Greensboro, N.C., and Lee Jeremias of Newberry, S.C., Jeff was born September 23, 1959, in Mount Airy, N.C., and lived and worked in Winston-Salem before moving to High Point in 1996.

Formerly, Jeff worked as an electronics technician for a number of companies, including Arrington Police Distributors. For more than a decade, he was an active volunteer for the Winston-Salem Air Classic, where he led ground operations for the air show year after year. He also frequently volunteered for the boat races on Oak Hollow Lake.

Jeff was an avid boater and radio-controlled airplane enthusiast. When he wasn't skimming across local lakes, he loved to decorate the home at 501 Montlieu Avenue to celebrate the holidays. His whiz-bang, over-the-top presentations are known throughout High Point, and last Halloween drew more than 600 trick-or-treaters. That night, he photographed many of the children and parents and presented them with his wonderful shots as gifts to parents and children in the neighborhood, many of whom he'd never met.

His love of the outdoors and the lake was celebrated when he and his wife, Kimberley Wray were married one summer morning surrounded by friends and family in a hot air balloon over Oak Hollow Lake.

Jeff is survived by his loving wife, Kimberley and their house full of beloved pets; a loving mother-in-law, Barbara Wray; his parents, Arless Long and Lee Jeremias; Margaret Jones, long-time companion to his father; as well as a daughter, Renea Long. A great aunt, Elizabeth Ramey of Kernersville; and his aunt and uncle, Carol and Richard Hoover, also of Kernersville also survive.

He was preceded in death last year by his younger brother, John Darren Long of Newberry, S.C. The family will receive friends in the church parlor following the service.

Memorial contributions can be made to the Jeffrey Long Memorial Fund, c/o High Point Bank, P.O. Box 2270, High Point, NC 27261.

Sechrest Funeral Service is serving the family. Please share your condolences and memories with the family at www.mem.com


Here is his eulogy posted below:
Jeff loved the simple things in life…a cold Coke-cola, a good hotdog, Saturday morning breakfast with his wife at Carolina’s diner, two eggs over, country ham, toast, grits, and always a small box to put the leftovers in to take home as treats for the animals he loved and who worshiped him. Such a weekend breakfast was usually followed by a trip to Lowe’s for one thing or another that Jeff needed for whatever project he happened to be “puttering” with that day.

Over the years, his “citi-fied” wife would try to expand his tastes to what she thought were some of the finer things in life, but he rarely came to appreciate them. To Jeff, a fresh shrimp cocktail was really just wasted “bait.”

Jeff was truly of the earth and uncannily in tune with it. Kim always suspected the Cherokee blood of his ancestors running through his veins, when he would look up at the sky and read the coming weather more accurately the local newscaster. “Rain is coming,” he’d say. And it would. Or, “it’s going to be a boomer,” and the thunder would begin to crash. Often out on the lake, long before the whiz-bang weather systems would begin to issue warnings, Jeff would read the clouds and say it was time to pack up. Then, when headed back to dock, he’d stop long enough along the way to alert each boater he passed that trouble was on the way, and from which direction it was going to come.

Kim’s Mom used to refer to him as the “Indian,” because he always moved so quietly. “Where did you come from?” she’d exclaim. And he’s say something, like, “I heard you needed something moved, or Kim told me you’re having trouble with the lights in the kitchen,” or ‘We’ve been calling you and you’re not answering again. Dinner’s on the table.” From the day they met, the day after Kim’s Dad died, Jeff began looking after Barbara, and whether it was carrying over-size bags of dog-food, or driving all night from North Carolina to Pennsylvania or New York dragging trailers full of family belongings, or standing on ladders installing motion detectors to light up the house when Barbara came home alone, or crawling through second-story windows when her house keys were no where to be found, Jeff was the family hero. In fact, one of the first times Barbara watched Jeff directing jets and flight crews out on the tarmac at an air show, bent down, one knee on the ground, headphones slung around his neck arms raise over head signaling props, completely in control and in his element, Barbara exclaimed, “My God, he looks like John Wayne!”

Kim’s sister Glynis said Jeff was the most “amazing, brother-in-law. He was our Macgyver, always there to fix what nobody else could and to help me move (even in the middle of the night when that was once necessary). He was my long distance technical support, whether it was computer problems, or teaching me about what to do with water-lines and leaking refrigerators. He taught me how to drive his boat and let me go as fast as I wanted, even when Kim was screaming for us to slow down.. He took my friends out on the boat and made them feel right at home, and when I went for a swim, and my arms weren’t strong enough to pull myself back in, he would quietly nudge the boat into the shallows and help me up the ladder without making it obvious to everybody else. My brother-in-law was quiet, but he was always caring and in tune with you. When I had gastric bypass surgery and couldn’t eat much, he brought me a cheese platter for Christmas. It was the best gift. And I can hardly remember a time in their living room when Jeff didn’t have the fire blazing for us. He thought roasting marshmallows in the fireplace was a little silly, but he’d do with me anyway, especially if I bribed him with his favorite peanut butter kiss cookies. Even when I didn’t make the cookies, I’d wake in the middle of the night, and the fire would still be blazing. He showed love by what he did, and he took care of all of us.

Mostly, though, he loved and took care of Kimberley. One very late night, early on in their relationship, he found her in home office, you might say vibrating a bit fast than normal (as well all know Kim can do). She had a major story due in the morning and was trying to transcribe a taped interview of a French executive with a very heavy accent. The only problem was that the micro-cassette tape was defective and the heavy French accent was nothing more than unintelligible whisper. Kim was really shook up and Jeff simply said, “Hold on.” And then he went to work. Stripping and splicing wires, dragging in the stereo speakers from the living room, re-wiring computer speakers, and less than 10 minutes later the Frenchman’s words were emanating in surround sound, loud and clear all around the room. Kim says she’ll never forget the way he looked in the doorway at 3 a.m. that morning, in nothing by his underpants, unshaved, hair sticking out every which way, and grinning like a little kid because he knew he’d saved the day. She said, “He never looked more beautiful to me then.”

Even if you weren’t lucky enough to be there that July morning, most of you have heard the story about their wedding. At dawn in a hot air balloon, out at Oak Hollow Lake surrounded by people they loved. What you might not know is that rather romantic venue and theme was all Jeffery’s idea. And thanks to the many friends he’d made over the years working the Winston-Salem Air Classic, much to Kim’s surprise, he not only booked the balloon and pilot, has asked the captain of the civil air patrol to marry them. He also marshaled the science project that ensued when Kim ordered butterfly cocoons from California that had to hatch just in time for the event. With just days left to go, one night Jeff appeared at Kim’s side with a triangle-shaped cardboard box that housed a single cocoon. “Look,” he said, and gently pulled back the corner. Kim peered inside and two little black eyes and a pair of moving antennae looked back. For the rest of the evening, the three of them (Barbara had to be alerted to this little miracle), gently peeked inside 200 little boxes of butterflies, quietly appreciating the miracle and wonder of life. One year later, on their first anniversary, he asked her how she thought they should celebrate. “I don’t know,” Kim said. “Well,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about this. How about we plant a tree?”

When you drive past the house today, you’ll see the enormous flowering Bradford Pear that Jeff spent hours digging in to ensure its roots would take. 10 years later, Kim sees its blossoms from her kitchen window on a spring morning and remembers the man she loved and who loved her dearly back.