Guest Op-ed Remembering Michael Delehanty

By Scott Federico

Along with the rest of the Winthrop community, I was stunned and saddened to learn of the sudden and untimely death of my childhood friend, Michael Delehanty.

I met Mike as a kid when my family moved to a new neighborhood, where he lived a few doors down. He was only 4 years old, but became an instant friend, back when kids played outside every day no matter what the season – or the weather. And when all you had to do to find someone to play with was to walk out your back door. A few months later, my family invited him to my sixth birthday party along with other friends, which as far as I can remember, was a blast. It was only the beginning of many rewarding times to come.

Mike was a friendly, outgoing and energetic kid who loved adventure. He had a big smile, a great sense of humor and was popular in the neighborhood, as well as in school. We played sports and all of the neighborhood games kids played outside back then like hide-and-seek, chase, and running bases. Bike riding was a constant, and we went everywhere on our Stingrays, sometimes doing errands for our parents to get milk, bread or cigarettes. We would sometimes bike over to visit Mike’s grandparents on Golden Drive, where we would stay for about ten minutes or so, but didn’t have much to say. I got the impression that Mike genuinely cared about them and recognized the happiness it would give them to see him, and didn’t go there just because his parents may have told him to.

In the summer, wearing our cut-off shorts, we went to the beach, fished off the bridge, and ventured into the marsh, sometimes slipping into a ditch unexpectedly and getting soaked, but were always pulled out quickly by a helping hand. We played in the parks, walked “down the center” to get subs at Terrie’s and went to the movies at Kincade’s. We never missed the ice cream truck which came every day in the late afternoon. In the winter, we made snowmen and forts, had relentless snow ball fights, ice skated, and played a lot of street hockey. One of our greatest thrills was sledding down a neighborhood hill, always head first on our Flexible Flyers or spinning out of control on our Flying Saucers. One year, though, Mike got a toboggan for Christmas, which was a big deal, as none of the kids in the neighborhood had one, much less seen one. We would drag it to the top of the hill and cram as many kids on it as we could, to experience an impressive new way of zooming down it. We were crazy daredevils who stayed out in the cold for hours.

We shared a lot of quiet time as well back in those carefree, liberal days of the early ‘70s, sometimes spending hours just sitting around doing nothing. Together we discovered on our own how to fix loose chains or flats on our bikes, how to fish, or how to ask out a girl. Every Sunday, we listened to American Top 40 on a portable radio, with high anticipation for that number one hit at twelve noon at the show’s end. We regularly ran out to buy the latest 45s by Aerosmith, Queen or Led Zeppelin at the record store on Woodside Avenue. We enjoyed building plastic car models which we bought at Kasanof’s on Crest Avenue.

My dad was a firefighter, and Mike’s dad was an auxiliary police officer, so early on we were exposed to the life of emergency first responders. Every day we would listen to the local police and fire traffic on our dads’ scanners. We chased a lot of emergencies and incidents all over town, including a lot of house fires, which was very exciting. One day we got a chance to ride in a fire truck with my dad – which was awesome – except when Mike slammed the door shut on my hand which I had mistakenly placed in the door jamb! The pain was over quickly once the door was reopened, but the ring finger on my right hand never quite healed properly and although to this day is permanently crooked as a result, has always been a fond reminder of an otherwise thrilling experience.

Mike and his big family were always up to something. I spent a lot of time at his house chiming in with whatever they were doing and going with them wherever they went. His dad was handy and would fix things up but also liked to build stuff. One time we helped him build a Soap Box Derby racer in his basement. It was a big project, but it was fun getting into the details of construction and being a part of it. When it was finally done, we could barely wait to take it out for its first ride down Douglas Street, a hilly street in the neighborhood. Mike was in the driver’s seat, and it did well, but I don’t think it went as fast as we’d all hoped. Luckily, though, the brakes worked!

Mike always had the natural ability to understand and learn anything quickly and was good at everything he tried. He was a people person who would instinctively know what to do in a sticky situation. He was keenly aware of happenings in the community. If something important was going on in town or someone needed something, he was concerned about it, and would show up quickly to help out. If someone he knew of had passed away, at times those he knew only minimally, he would attend the wake or funeral to dutifully pay his respects.

One day Mike was at my house while my parents and I were painting our living room. Without hesitation, he joined right in, grabbing a roller and giving it his best shot. We all knew he would do a good job. That was Mike, he readily got involved and was always willing to help anyone. When we were done, he had supper with us, and then called home by his mother, went home to his family. We all had a good laugh when we found out later that he never told her that he had just had supper at my house. He always did have a tremendous appetite!

As we grew older, continuing to seek thrill and adventure wherever we could find it, we also got into trouble together. We tested the limits of everything and challenged the system to see what we could get away with – and we got away with a lot! Like me, Mike had a wild side, and we did spend some of our time on the wrong side of the law. Among other things, we egged houses, drank while underage, raced our cars and burned a lot of rubber, sometimes all in the same night! Ironically, the tables were turned when the cops started chasing my car around the town on many a night, with Mike often riding shotgun, which in hindsight was useful experience for his future career. We were classic rebellious teenagers back then, when we thought we owned the town, but still had a lot to learn about life.

Mike and I loved cars and spent a lot of time working on my ’65 Chevy Belair, but when I upgraded to a white ’67 Chevy Impala coupe with a small block V-8 and red interior, there was a lot more potential for picking up girls. We washed them constantly, changed the oil, and played around with the engines to get more power out of them. We shopped at every auto parts store and pilfered small parts at junkyards. I put thousands of miles on those cars driving around with Mike just in Winthrop.

We had jobs together while in high school, one at G & M Supply Company on Main Street, where we worked after school and Saturdays, and then, with our well-honed skills at driving twice the speed limit, delivering pizza for the Pizza Center, even during the Blizzard of ’78, when we received huge tips! Later on, I remember how proud Mike was when he became an electrician and started working for Massport.

Mike was the person who truly did it all, a fearless, charismatic character with big shoulders, and a real go-getter. He had a genuine demeanor, was a man of his word and was never rude or judgmental. Anyone who has ever met him would say that he always listened to and supported you, and always gave you the benefit of the doubt. It was no surprise that he followed what he had grown up with, had come natural to him and was passionate about. How fitting that Mike would develop a strong rapport with and have a positive impact in the community he grew up in and loved through his profession as a police officer and detective, which he had basically prepared and trained for all his life.

Sad to say, we fell out of touch with each other over the years, especially after I moved out of town. Of course, I felt bad about that, even more so now. Through the grapevine and social media, I followed his life from a distance, and had some idea of how he was doing. I made a donation to his online campaign for a new heart and, like everyone else, amazed that he received one so quickly, expected he would make it through. Apparently, Mike’s big heart could never be replaced.

I want to take the opportunity to say how proud I am of all of Mike’s achievements, memberships, volunteer work and of the honorable life that he led serving others. He was always there for his family, friends and especially his community. He served this world well and set an extraordinary example of what it is to live a meaningful life.

I am sorry that Mike is no longer with us, and for the pain and suffering he had to endure in the last months and moments of his life. But I firmly believe that his ambitious spirit will continue to be present in our lives, to inspire and guide us on our journey. I found the uplifting poem by Ellen Brenneman, “His Journey’s Just Begun” to be particularly fitting for Mike. The last stanza reads, “And think of him as living in the hearts of those he touched, for nothing loved is ever lost and he was loved so much.”

I miss Mike, but am grateful for the deep friendship we shared and cherish all the time we spent together and memories we made, which have had a lasting influence in my life and will always have a special place in my heart. For me, looking back, growing up with Michael Delehanty was the ride of a lifetime. Farewell, my friend, may you rest in eternal peace.

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