Duncan Cameron, 64, teacher, poker player, man of happy habits

Atlanta, Georgia -- Duncan Cameron collected more poker buddies than he did poker chips. But that was fine by him.

For 40 years, Mr. Cameron hosted Wednesday night games in the wood-paneled basement of the same Lithonia home where he'd grown up.

Most of the faces he studied across the card table belonged to friends he'd known for much of his life, some as far back as his Lithonia High School days.

Very little about Mr. Cameron's poker nights changed over the years. The well-worn chip carousel he set out, a hand-me-down from his aunt, was at least 80 years old. Even his jokes made their way around the table more than once. That's exactly how he liked it.

"He was nothing if not consistent," said his daughter Kari Kendall Cameron of Atlanta.

James Duncan Cameron, 64, of Lithonia died of lung cancer Sunday at Rockdale Medical Center. The funeral is 2 p.m. Wednesday at First Baptist Church of Lithonia. Henry Funeral Home is in charge of arrangements.

Mr. Cameron was born in Lithonia and grew up there, his daughter said, when it still had a small-town feel. It was a feeling he tried to re-create every week around the poker table.

After he earned a bachelor's degree from West Georgia College in 1966, he returned to Lithonia, taught school for 33 years in Gwinnett County and retired from Shiloh Middle School in 2000.

He also served three terms as Lithonia's part-time mayor in the 1970s and '80s — mainly, his daughter said, because he loved to meet people.

"And we lived so close to City Hall, he could just pop in a few times a week and do what he needed to do," she said.

Along with his poker pals, Mr. Cameron cultivated a gang of regulars with whom he drank beer and tailgated at Georgia Tech football games for almost 40 years.

His assigned task was always the same. He was in charge of grilling.

"He was a man of habit," his daughter said, "even with friends."

Mr. Cameron was so set in his ways, his daughter joked, that he still played every day with an Atari 2600 — an ancient video game console from the 1970s with a bridge game cartridge stuck in it.

Like that relic from another era, Mr. Cameron's poker games kept going strong for decades.

"It was more than a poker game. It was a gossip group," said Forrest Isley of Covington. "Between us, we had the news on everybody."

A relative newcomer, since he only joined the group 12 years ago, Mr. Isley said it was Mr. Cameron's warm jokes that made him feel welcome.

"Duncan always had a wisecrack about everything," Mr. Isley said.

To get him back, his friends would return Mr. Cameron's good-natured teasing by kissing him on top of his bald head.

"To tell you how tight this group of friends is, our wives would comment on how good it was to see a bunch of men go visit someone in the hospital and then hug the guy and kiss him when they were ready to leave," Mr. Isley said.

"Men usually don't do that sort of thing, but these friends know they can count on each other for anything they needed, any time of day."

At his funeral today, Mr. Cameron's poker buddies will serve as pallbearers.

"Our plan is, we want to get through this funeral," Mr. Isley said, "and then we want to continue our poker games in memory of Duncan — so we can get together and talk about him some more."

Survivors include another daughter, Kimberly

News Added: 20 February, 2008

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