Joey Sullivan was absolutely my very best friend from the age of 3 to 8.  For most of my childhood, he was a part of my life.  When his family lived on Winton Road I spent as much time at his house as I did at mine.  Preschool was not common during that time, but each morning in our own homes we would watch Ding Dong School with Miss Francis and then I would make my way down Ashbourne Road to his house.  My family lived in a Post WWII small and square colonial.  But Joey had a grand home, in my eyes, with an antic, old furniture that was solid and available for hiding under,  and what appeared to be a grand secret passageway that led from the dining room to the sunroom.  In my memory...  Once in my adult years I again visited that home and like so many it had diminished in size.  I remember his father, his mother who was great friends with my mother, the Mercy photo of his sister Mary who had left the home for the convent.  I remember his brothers Walter who smoked a pipe and was in college except for short visits home, Tommy, and Jimmy . I loved his mom and was awed by his Dad who would come home each evening, in a wonderful suit with a white shirt. He would sit in his chair and read a paper.  It was his time to have quiet and my time to leave.  However, as much as I was able I would sit in front of him smiling and usually I got at least the lift of an eye over the paper and once in awhile a smile.  My joy and I left.

Joe was the baby in the family and his brothers were often away.  At his house we made ant castles and poison for evil people in the world.  Once in awhile this might be Jimmy.  On those occassions, we'd mixed our potion which consisted of mud and water complemented with poison red berries...whatever kind we could find...our moms had told us not to eat them.  Joey would have somehow acquired a glass from the kitchen.  For the in- home assassinations we would leave this concoction on Mrs. Sullivan's lovely dining room table.  The plan involved Jimmy comiing home and thinking this glass was filled with delicious chocolate milk and he would drink it.  I am not sure how many of these muddy messes were left on the Sullivan's dining room table but nary a word from his Mom.  Joey and I went from kindergarten to eighth grade together.  Our days always involved hanging out with a gang of kids using my yard to place hide and seek in the summer and fox and hounds on the Fosters yard in the winter.  Not to mention softball my Dad orchestrated and red rover and simon says and red light green light and chicken on the subway tracks at the end of Ashbourne Road. I do believe that I am responsible for teaching him how to skip and correctly play hopscotch.

My parents in their enthusiasm managed to bring six children into the world and while I longed for the relative silence of Joey's childhood he thrived with all the Heagney noise and chaos.  I know he loved my mom and Dad and brother Bill and probably me for awhile. When Mr. Sullivan died too early Joey came and spent the night at our house.  His eyes were red and cried out.  Joey was put to bed in my brother Bill's room but ended up with me and we held each other all night.  

As we headed toward what would be middle school now, we drifted apart, not before we tried to outsmart each other in school.  We actually were very bright youngsters and did not mind showing it. One summer during this phase  we were discovered that boys and girls were not to be as close as we were. It was an awkward summer and near its end Joe grabbed me in the backyard and gave me a big kiss on the lips...and then it seemed that our friendship was over.  And that buzzard that was Joe Sullivan was grumpy and grouchy with me.  Off we went to different high schools, the Sullivans moved, off I went to Wisconsin for my undergraduate work, Chicago, Seattle, marriage,work, children, grandchildren, retirement and more. Yet,  I always thought I would see him again. 

I know Joe's life was complex.  I understand that he was difficult at times...perhaps many times. My brother Bill who still lives in Rochester would see him. We were never friends again..I have always been careful with my kisses since...He was the core of my early childhood, he was always the person I wanted to see in my old  age.  He is a person that I always remember with love.  With him I had an amazing childhood and he set a precedent for my life which I believe has been full of love and learning and adventure.  My condolences to his family especially his daughter.  This is so sad for me, I just always thought I would see him again.  Joan Heagney Neville