Jim W. McCleskey passed away on August 11, 2020 at the age of 75. Out of abundance of caution, his children will hold a private celebration Labor Day weekend. Jim McCleskey was born in Dalhart, Texas on October 27, 1944, to Hal and Ruth McCleskey. Jim graduated from Dalhart High School in 1963, attaining All-State Honors in football as his teams fullback. He attended Texas A&M on a football scholarship, severely injured his knee, and transferred to Texas Tech. He settled in Dalhart and started his family. Jim raised cattle, wheat, and corn. He was a member of Lakeview United Methodist Church and served on the Dalhart School Board. Jim served in the New Mexico National Guard, attaining the rank of buck SGT. He spent his retirement years in Costa Rica and happily resided there until his health began to fail. He was in Coon Memorial Nursing Home for 7 months prior to his passing; he greatly appreciated their good care. Jim was an above average horsemen, a terrible mechanic, and despite years of practice his rain dance never yielded anything of consequence. He could make a superb cream gravy, refused to eat chicken, and it was rumored he could polish off two Fat Albert burgers in one sitting at Frostys Drive-Thru. Jim was a lifetime amateur cowboy poet with many handwritten poems that expressed Jims love for the land, farming, ranching and the agrarian way of life. One of Jims heroes was Will Rogers. Jim loved country music and was a pretty good singer of which he enjoyed showing off to many friends. Jim is survived by five children: Rebecca Otieno; of Houston, TX; Bart McCleskey and his husband, Archie Palencia of San Diego, CA; Chris Zey and her husband, Edward Zey of Corpus Christi, TX; Jimi Lee Thomas and her husband, Daniel Thomas, of Midland, TX; and Justin McCleskey Fredricks of Costa Rica; 4 grandchildren: Taylor Zey, Meredith Zey, Grayson Thomas, and James Thomas; his brothers, Joe McCleskey and Jack McCleskey; and a gaggle of dear friends who hung with him through thick and thin chief among them is his best man, Roger Hinds, and his co-conspirator for many years, Slick Countryman. Our dad always said, "home is where you hang your hat". Whether in a house, a restaurant, or a church - men of his day sought a peg and, once found, felt at home as they walked inside. We know it meant more. It is his humble declaration of an innate desire to find belonging, contentment, and an opportunity to add goodness wherever he went. Someday, if we are lucky, we might hang our hat on the peg next to our fathers hat once more.