Brendan’s Bench Dedication at Derby Park, Santa Cruz 9/7/19
“Life isn’t meant to be lived perfectly…but merely to be LIVED. Boldly, wildly, beautifully, uncertainly, imperfectly, magically, LIVED.”
On behalf of Adolfo, Brendan’s sister Bridget and her family, and myself we welcome you all here today for this ribbon cutting ceremony of Brendan’s Memorial Bench at Derby Park, renowned as one of the first skateboard parks in the world. We especially want to thank dear Wendy without whom this kernel of an idea never would have borne fruit.
I was introduced to Derby Park many years ago in a most unique way. With Brendan as my guide, we parked in a nearby company’s parking lot, did a bit of bushwacking, edged our way across a culvert, scampered up an embankment, crawled through a hole in the chain link fence then emerged at this spot. (My apologies to the Parks Department.) But this gives you a brief insight into Brendan’s character. Why arrive the conventional way when it could be turned into an adventure?
Life with Brendan was always an adventure, sometimes WAY too adventurous. We knew early on that we were in for a wild ride. I recall around the age of 3 when Brendan tossed blankets and dolls from Bridget’s Holly Hobby doll carriage, piled in some dirt and converted it into a worm farm. Carriage firmly in hand, he wandered the neighborhood turning over rocks and flagstones in search of specimens for his collection. He was always fascinated by nature and we still have his collection of bird nests and butterflies from those early years. And through his many years in Santa Cruz we were graced with treasures of rocks, shells, fossils and bones that he continued to amass, each a treasured memento that now hold even greater significance in our hearts.
Even at an early age, while most kids shied away from adults, he was comfortable having conversations with neighborhood parents stopping to say hello, asking about their day and was given the unofficial moniker of Mr. Mayor. But while growing up in an affluent town that measured success by wealth, social status, and power Brendan recognized early on that this was not his goal. He viewed life through a different lens which made his school years extremely challenging for himself, his teachers and especially his parents. I recall a conference with his fourth grade teacher telling me that when she asked him for his home address he told her the question was “too personal”.
Ignoring rules and testing limits often put him at odds with authority figures while attracting a legion of the unconventional: fellow skaters and rule breakers. For his sister Bridget, a classic overachiever, it was akin to being Ferris Bueller’s older sister.
Skateboarding was a refuge from a world that didn’t fit his personality but offered all the excitement and daring that he craved. Deep inside we always suspected he’d be California bound, the land of year-round skating, no snowy ice-bound months to contend with while waiting for spring to emerge, so at age 20 he left Massachusetts behind and headed west, eventually landing in Santa Cruz.
I recall the first time I came to visit, driving over the hill from San Jose, awe struck at my first sighting of redwoods, super cautious of the serpentine “17” and finally cruising into Santa Cruz, immediately feeling the magic of the California coast, meeting his west coast friends (family… ALL Brendan’s friends he considered as family) realizing that Brendan had found the perfect fit for his personality.
As he honed his skateboarding skills and gained his reputation in the professional skateboarding world we marveled at his determination along with the sacrifices he willingly made to pursue his profession. I’ll let others with true understanding extol his skateboarding skills but realize that the common thread throughout his entire life were the deep and lasting friendships he made and maintained. A true and remarkable achievement of its own.
While it was not the life we would have chosen for our son when he was a child, as that man/child, his dad and I came to truly appreciate and admire his tenacity in holding stubbornly and fiercely to his inner compass.
When we came to visit him or travelled on vacations together Brendan’s sense of adventure, fearlessness, and curiosity always added an extra dimension to the experience, venturing to edges, enticed by and ignoring “Do Not Enter” signs to explore further, and his ubiquitous disappearances, always reappearing when we were desperately wondering where he had wandered, if he was okay, and if he would return. And, at the end of our visits, when it was time to say goodbye, being the recipient of one of his bear-like hugs punctuating the moment, feeling his love and affection pour through. THOSE… we will miss the most.
In the meantime we’d like to thank everyone for keeping in touch, whether in person, swapping stories, sharing photos, by note, through the dreaded social media or simply sitting alongside us as we all learn to live with and process our collective loss.
My last memories of Brendan were of Christmas 2017 in Santa Cruz. We spent hours working in the garden, pulling weeds, repotting plants, while the glowing and crackling fire pit kept us toasty, Stevie Wonder providing the sound track to our day’s activities. With that sense of harmony I envisioned spending many more years, sharing those cherished moments together. I deliberately left behind a new pair of garden gloves knowing that I’d be back soon to spend many more days with him. Alas, it was not meant to be.
We love you Brendan and feel your presence with us constantly and know you’re here today enjoying a proper and lively skate session with all your extended family whom you dearly loved.
In closing I’d like to share this bittersweet poem, Meditation Before Kaddish, written by Merrit Malloy.
When I die give what’s left of me away
to children and old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
cry for your brother walking the street beside you.
And when you need me, put your arms around anyone
and give them what you need to give me.
I want to leave you something,
something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I’ve known or loved,
and if you cannot give me away,
at least let me live in your eyes and not in your mind.
You can love me best by letting hands touch hands,
and by letting go of children that need to be free.
Love doesn’t die, people do.
So, when all that’s left of me is love,
give me away.
