Recently I attended a memorial for Joe Scanlan. A buddy I’ve known for thirty years. It was three decades of great times and guffaws. In early May, our friendship was suddenly terminated by freakin’ cancer.
You may recall I once wrote a blog about Joe and his brother Pat. (AKA Team Trauma).
The memorial was at Denver’s Washington Park Boathouse. After checking into a nearby hotel, I ambled to the park knowing I was a mental mess over Joe’s passing. Upon arrival, I exchanged a little awkward small talk and sad sighs with brother Pat. He took me over to a table which held old photos, ticket stubs and a framed article I wrote about the Dynamic Duo for the Denver Post.
Pat handed me a dozen photos, “Here! These are from our Team Bar2Bar days on Ride the Rockies. You are in a few.”
Sure enough, the photos held memories, “Oh! I remember THAT crazy day!” I started to smile despite not feeling very happy. I then spoke to a scattering of Scanlans whom I’ve met through the years. (There’s a lot of Irish Catholic Scanlans!) Our conversations were brief as if we were all thinking the same thing. “What is there to say? This sucks!”
As the crowd grew, I retreated to my position of comfort. I went and stood in a quiet corner of the Boathouse.
While nursing an IPA. I looked out upon the reflections on the lake while noticing squadrons of barn swallows flittering nearby. I thought about Joe and the finality of never being able to share a joke, a Rockies game or to click pint glasses with him at a Happy Hour. I sighed a lot.
Every now and then, I glanced at the gathering of Joe’s greatest fans. Many were regaling those around them with comical antidotes of episodes with Joe. Of course, they were complete with imitations of his raspy voice and emphatic hand gestures. Everyone had a story to tell and memories to share. “Oo! There was that time when Joe and I...”
Then again, I saw some gushing of tears too.
As the keg of beer began to drain, a few strangers approached me. “Weren’t you the guy who wrote that article about Joe? He spoke about you often. I had to come by and meet you.”
With an introduction like that, I went into my greatest hits with Joe stories. They laughed and nodded as they envisioned the hilarious yet believable scenes.
As Joe’s celebration of life was coming to a close, Rosie (a mutual friend and honorary Scanlan) came by for a teary hug. When we regained our composures, she pointed out the urn which contained Joe’s remains. Rosie looked at me and said, “Joe loved you!”
I know. The feeling was mutual. This was a hard loss. I’m sure going to miss him.
On an upbeat note: Don’t be surprised when there’s an announcement for the “Joe Scanlan Cancer Sucks Memorial” tentatively set for June, 2020. Yes, it’ll more than likely be held at a Rockies game at Coor’s Field. Somehow we will spin a fund raiser for a cancer charity chosen by the Scanlan family. I’ll buy a ticket for Joe and place a can of Coors on the empty seat. He’ll be there in spirit. Plan on attending. Joe wouldn’t want you to miss this one.
Our dream became a reality. The Joe Scanlan Memorial Cancer Sucks fundraiser is now live. Please donate whatever amount you can. Let’s strike out cancer.
Cheers to Joe.
{{{{{{{Jeff}}}}}}} I'm so very sorry for your loss. Cancer is indeed a b*tch!
ReplyDeleteThis is great. Thank you. I miss him so much. It was a lovely, fun celebration with the family and friends. Ball game sounds good to me.
ReplyDeleteThanks for making Joe a legend from your writing past and present. Very poignant
ReplyDeleteSorry for the loss of a special person Joe
Peace to Joe and his family during this time of transition 🌎