Next month we will be returning to St. Edmund Parish in Oak Park, Illinois for what has become an annual concert. The parish holds great memories for us, especially the early days when we would play an Irish pub in Naperville, Illinois or even Milwaukee and get home around 3 a.m. Our clothes would reek of second-hand smoke and it wasn’t unusual for us to stumble into St. Edmund wearing the previous night’s outfits so we would be on time for the 9 a.m. Mass. Kathy Halfpenny, the director, would nod to us as we hurriedly opened our cases. The choir would comment on the smell of beer and Marlboro cigarettes wafting out of our cases. We would be bleary-eyed but ready to play as soon as Father Ruiz would signal his presence from the back of the church.
One person, who had a personality like a cup of good java, was Tom, the energetic and outgoing husband of Kathy. He was part ringmaster, part preacher, and even part liturgical dancer. Where most men (and a few women, too) would shrink in horror at the idea of dancing down the aisle in praise of God, Tom was there, stepping in where angels feared to tread. He had no sense of inhibition. The 9 a.m. Mass became a favorite for us and some of our fans, who would come to St. Edmund after seeing us play at a pub. Eventually it was the road that took us away from our standing Sunday gig, but our recollections of Tom and the choir would fuel many a nostalgic talk as we would roll along some back road in Kansas.
About three years ago we were commissioned to write Masses and songs of worship. The first person we contacted was Kathy to see if St. Edmund would want a Mass and a concert so we could “test-fly” our first Mass. She was elated, and we had a reunion at her Victorian house (that sports the world’s largest wind chimes) in Oak Park. Of course, Tom was there. We would smell him before we saw him as his pipe smoke would precede his noisy entrance into the room. All senses were entangled in his laughing, smoking, darting gestures, and quirky anecdotes. Tom ran a jewelry business which eventually ended up in his house. “Come into the parlor” had a vested meaning with him, as he would burst into the room during our music session with Kathy and dazzle us with rings, necklaces, and brooches at back-of-the-truck prices. We would end up getting a jump start on our holidays and anniversaries and Mother’s Day with these irresistible offerings. Kathy would tolerate Tom’s takeover during our work sessions until a certain point when she would banish him to his office. That would last about 15 minutes until he came back again, a big grin on his pipe-clenching face, holding up a coral necklace he forgot to show us. We would smile and obediently reach for our wallets.
Last fall we met with Kathy to plan another Mass and concert. We were going on the road and she asked us to write five songs for a “Mass of Healing.” It was a different house. As we crossed the threshold, there was no whiff of the pipe. The jewelry was stacked in cases. Tom had passed away suddenly over the summer. The reality of that passing came full force to us when entering the Halfpenny house. The ringmaster wasn’t there to greet us. We didn’t talk about Tom as we worked on the music, but the void of his zany presence was the elephant in the room.
One of the most rewarding parts of being musicians is that we’ve had a chance to meet people whose energies are larger than life. Like a Paul Bunyan, Tom would tower over people with his generosity, joy, and enthusiasm. He was always excited about simple things like a church raffle or a new liturgical dance step. Even when the power company tore his front lawn up earlier that summer, he took that as an opportunity and told his next-door neighbor that the fresh mound of earth was where he had buried Kathy. The neighbor didn’t talk to him for weeks.
The impact of grief is always the wish of one more word spoken, one more bracelet bought, and one more chance to smell the pipe smoke. Our best way of honoring a life like Tom’s is to continue to play music. And play it with a bit more zaniness, enthusiasm, spontaneity, and yes, maybe a dance step or two. If we start selling jewelry at the show, don’t blame us, blame Tom Halfpenny.
~ Brian and Marty
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