Funerals are for the living.
They always have been.
I will not participate in your grand show for a man none of you really got to know.
He didn’t understand people who rowed only to win.
He genuinely loved the sport.
Rowing with his father, being on the water.
He valued family.
He sang in the Saint Dennis church chóir with his father.
He had a beautiful voice.
He was in 2 musicals in high school – and a few high school bands. (And Sweet Iowa of course)
He bought a bass guitar and an amp with money he saved up for years from his paper route in 8th grade. It cost $200. That was a ton of money back then. He was deciding between that and a horse.
He was the bassist and lead singer in those bands – the Shades (they all wore sunglasses), little caesar and the Romans, the distant future – I think those were the names. They mostly played covers.
He hitchhiked to California once with John and tried to watch the sunrise over the ocean. It got all the way up before they turned around.
He also climbed Mount Washington in shorts and a T-shirt.
Rode all the way to Boston on a bicycle and damaged the nerves in his hands to the point they were stuck like claws for 6 months.
Lost a knife fight with a frozen bagel that ended in an ER visit and surgery. Twice.
Dressed as Jesus in his youth. The picture survives. Full loin cloth, stigmata, he went all in.
Told my mother once the mincemeat pie was made from an animal called a mince. Proceeded to describe said animal in detail.
Taught at some tough schools. He told me once he gave every student who stopped showing up a 50%. He had to fail them, but he said, if they ever came back to class, they could pull up a 50%. He wanted them to have that chance. He didn’t call parents either. He didn’t know what kind of home life his students had. He was afraid of the consequences for them.
He was troubled. Our relationship was frequently strained.
There was a sadness in him.
But also a light.
A desire to change the world.
And maybe the world broke us both.
But I remember. I remember the days when things were good.
The igloos so big he could stand up.
The soda fountain.
The tandem bike.
The best dad.
Those are the times I want to remember.
All I need is my dad in my heart.
I don’t need to grieve with strangers – that is what you are.
Laughs and Lobotomies 