SEAN
My sister Modie used to babysit Sean in The Chippendale Apartments and then brag to her friends about her baby cousin Sean who was born with a tan.
I saw a sign that read Cousins are Your First Friends in Life. And not everyone is lucky enough to have a cousin of the same age. It’s really special. And that could not have been any more true for me and Sean. I don’t remember ever not being joined at the hip with him. During our childhood, we would trade off weeklong visits at each others’ houses and I would watch the countdown on my mom’s calendar. It read “Jennie - Callahans” with an arrow extending the entire week. It was like Disneyland for me. We visited Old Chicago and then grabbed a sack of Arby's to bring home for dinner. Aunt Nancy would cut my roast beef in half and it tasted so much better that way. We played games in the basement on the plaid carpeting while Sean’s huge KISS poster stared at us. We’d be sent to bed in the bunk beds of course and I would lie there with Gene Simmons’ face stuck in my brain, unable to sleep.
I remember one time Aunt Laura was in during one of my visits and we were bored. So Aunt Laura suggested we go digging for gold. In Western Springs. We had backpacks and pots and pans clanging on us like we were 49ers setting off for California. We were “mining” in someone’s peonies when Sean spotted three of his buddies walking down the street. He grabbed me and yanked me behind the bushes and told me to be silent. Can you imagine the embarrassment of being seen gold digging in someone’s flower bed with your GIRL cousin?
I remember visiting Sean when he lived in Boulder. He almost had me committed to move out there; we had a blast, hiking, making black bean burritos, hearing cool bands, not wearing deodorant. And I remember one morning he said we were going to the library. I was like, um, OK. This is not what I had in mind when I headed west to the Hippie Capital of the World. Well, we were going so he could read The New York Times. It was then that I learned how much he loved reading newspapers. He read the entire paper from front to back. And he really loved The Funnies and satirical cartoons.
I really missed him when he was in Boulder, so when he would be coming through with the Dead he would hit me up and tell me, “I’ll be selling corn on the cob. Look for me.” That was as specific as he got. But I really missed him so I actually looked for him. I searched for his dreads and corn on the cob and a tie dye, which included about 98% of the people descending upon Soldier Field, so we didn’t always meet up, but he would follow up with me. “That was the best version of Space EVER!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that that was when I would leave to go to the bathroom, because he was so passionate about that part of the show. And there was nothing better than logging on to facebook to see that Sean had posted a Spotify on my wall. “Terrapin Station. Live. Redrocks. 1980.” He communicated so much through music. He showed people he loved them through music.
Just a few months ago I received the box set of Jerry Garcia’s Electric on the Eel from him. He had told Bill about it and it was a surprise. Those CDs will remain with me in my Hyundai, always, as a reminder of Sean’s love.
I am also fortunate that Sean (and Nancy) shared Grand Beach with me, whether it was golfing (in which I usually won), cruising in the golf cart, snow mobiling, or testing our moms as we swam farther and farther out into the lake. I can see Nancy standing up from her beach chair now, waving us to come in. And every week-long visit always included a trip to Redamacks. Now it seems like everyone in the Midwest knows of Redamacks, but when we were kids it was a special treat.
To say that Grand Beach was important to Sean is an understatement. Grand Beach was in his bones. He had Lake Michigan water in his blood. All of his friends from Grand Beach were the fabric of his life. His extended family. They called him “Skinny” - even some of the parents. I remember Sean telling me to ask John Bracewell to prom - that’s how much trust he had in his Grand Beach buddies. When he moved to Boulder, he ordained Pat Kelly as “Annie’s protector.” Annie said that Pat took that order quite seriously, which doesn’t surprise any of us. We knew the value Sean placed on his Grand Beach friendships. We would expect nothing less. Annie, Sean will forever be your protector. And so will we. We will not let Sean down. Annie you are the most positive, selfless, giving woman we know. Sean’s love for you was powerful; I felt it when I was around the two of you. Your bond only grew stronger these past few years. You are a part of him just as he is a part of you and nothing will ever change that.
Other passions in Sean’s life were baseball. And fishing. Sean was a huge Sox fan. Sean loved loved to go to Puffers before games and to watch games. He had a great Bridgeport crew at Puffers. I never thought Sean would root for anyone but his beloved White Sox, but when he moved to DC he adopted the Nationals as his new team. It took me a while to get used to his Facebook posts “Go, Nats!”
He loved to fish with his dad and Annie and his uncles. His favorite place was The Keys. His favorites were tarpon and snapper. One time Annie, Sean and Jerry went barracuda fishing and a barracuda jumped into the boat and Sean about had a heart attack. Jerry and Annie could not stop laughing at how terrified Sean was and they teased him about it relentlessly. But he was always a good sport. The three of them knew how to have a good time. Jerry made up a thing called NABS and Sean would do this tiny movement to Annie all the time from across the room and it would drive Annie bananas.
Anyone who knows my Aunt Nancy knows that when you are talking, she makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. She makes you feel important. Sean was the same way. When Nancy and I spoke on the phone the other day she said Sean was such a gentle, gentle soul. So kind and loving. And all I could say was, “That’s because he’s just like you, Aunt Nancy.” Our best traits usually come from our parents. My sister-in law Margaret phrased it best when she wrote me, “If Sean was anything like his mom, then I know he radiated light and joy and pure fun.”
In the words of Buddy Holly, made most famous by The Grateful Dead, all I have to say is
Our love for you is real, Seany boy. Please help me express our love to Sean, a love that will never fade away. Please join me.
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
I saw a sign that read Cousins are Your First Friends in Life. And not everyone is lucky enough to have a cousin of the same age. It’s really special. And that could not have been any more true for me and Sean. I don’t remember ever not being joined at the hip with him. During our childhood, we would trade off weeklong visits at each others’ houses and I would watch the countdown on my mom’s calendar. It read “Jennie - Callahans” with an arrow extending the entire week. It was like Disneyland for me. We visited Old Chicago and then grabbed a sack of Arby's to bring home for dinner. Aunt Nancy would cut my roast beef in half and it tasted so much better that way. We played games in the basement on the plaid carpeting while Sean’s huge KISS poster stared at us. We’d be sent to bed in the bunk beds of course and I would lie there with Gene Simmons’ face stuck in my brain, unable to sleep.
I remember one time Aunt Laura was in during one of my visits and we were bored. So Aunt Laura suggested we go digging for gold. In Western Springs. We had backpacks and pots and pans clanging on us like we were 49ers setting off for California. We were “mining” in someone’s peonies when Sean spotted three of his buddies walking down the street. He grabbed me and yanked me behind the bushes and told me to be silent. Can you imagine the embarrassment of being seen gold digging in someone’s flower bed with your GIRL cousin?
I remember visiting Sean when he lived in Boulder. He almost had me committed to move out there; we had a blast, hiking, making black bean burritos, hearing cool bands, not wearing deodorant. And I remember one morning he said we were going to the library. I was like, um, OK. This is not what I had in mind when I headed west to the Hippie Capital of the World. Well, we were going so he could read The New York Times. It was then that I learned how much he loved reading newspapers. He read the entire paper from front to back. And he really loved The Funnies and satirical cartoons.
I really missed him when he was in Boulder, so when he would be coming through with the Dead he would hit me up and tell me, “I’ll be selling corn on the cob. Look for me.” That was as specific as he got. But I really missed him so I actually looked for him. I searched for his dreads and corn on the cob and a tie dye, which included about 98% of the people descending upon Soldier Field, so we didn’t always meet up, but he would follow up with me. “That was the best version of Space EVER!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that that was when I would leave to go to the bathroom, because he was so passionate about that part of the show. And there was nothing better than logging on to facebook to see that Sean had posted a Spotify on my wall. “Terrapin Station. Live. Redrocks. 1980.” He communicated so much through music. He showed people he loved them through music.
Just a few months ago I received the box set of Jerry Garcia’s Electric on the Eel from him. He had told Bill about it and it was a surprise. Those CDs will remain with me in my Hyundai, always, as a reminder of Sean’s love.
I am also fortunate that Sean (and Nancy) shared Grand Beach with me, whether it was golfing (in which I usually won), cruising in the golf cart, snow mobiling, or testing our moms as we swam farther and farther out into the lake. I can see Nancy standing up from her beach chair now, waving us to come in. And every week-long visit always included a trip to Redamacks. Now it seems like everyone in the Midwest knows of Redamacks, but when we were kids it was a special treat.
To say that Grand Beach was important to Sean is an understatement. Grand Beach was in his bones. He had Lake Michigan water in his blood. All of his friends from Grand Beach were the fabric of his life. His extended family. They called him “Skinny” - even some of the parents. I remember Sean telling me to ask John Bracewell to prom - that’s how much trust he had in his Grand Beach buddies. When he moved to Boulder, he ordained Pat Kelly as “Annie’s protector.” Annie said that Pat took that order quite seriously, which doesn’t surprise any of us. We knew the value Sean placed on his Grand Beach friendships. We would expect nothing less. Annie, Sean will forever be your protector. And so will we. We will not let Sean down. Annie you are the most positive, selfless, giving woman we know. Sean’s love for you was powerful; I felt it when I was around the two of you. Your bond only grew stronger these past few years. You are a part of him just as he is a part of you and nothing will ever change that.
Other passions in Sean’s life were baseball. And fishing. Sean was a huge Sox fan. Sean loved loved to go to Puffers before games and to watch games. He had a great Bridgeport crew at Puffers. I never thought Sean would root for anyone but his beloved White Sox, but when he moved to DC he adopted the Nationals as his new team. It took me a while to get used to his Facebook posts “Go, Nats!”
He loved to fish with his dad and Annie and his uncles. His favorite place was The Keys. His favorites were tarpon and snapper. One time Annie, Sean and Jerry went barracuda fishing and a barracuda jumped into the boat and Sean about had a heart attack. Jerry and Annie could not stop laughing at how terrified Sean was and they teased him about it relentlessly. But he was always a good sport. The three of them knew how to have a good time. Jerry made up a thing called NABS and Sean would do this tiny movement to Annie all the time from across the room and it would drive Annie bananas.
Anyone who knows my Aunt Nancy knows that when you are talking, she makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. She makes you feel important. Sean was the same way. When Nancy and I spoke on the phone the other day she said Sean was such a gentle, gentle soul. So kind and loving. And all I could say was, “That’s because he’s just like you, Aunt Nancy.” Our best traits usually come from our parents. My sister-in law Margaret phrased it best when she wrote me, “If Sean was anything like his mom, then I know he radiated light and joy and pure fun.”
In the words of Buddy Holly, made most famous by The Grateful Dead, all I have to say is
Our love for you is real, Seany boy. Please help me express our love to Sean, a love that will never fade away. Please join me.
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Our love for Sean will not fade away (clap)
Comments