In Memory of

I’ve always appreciated the irony of our name, the Fearsome Five—four of us, at least, were anything but fearsome.   In what was supposed to be our fiercest and most rebellious moment, our coming of age, we hatched a plot to egg the 8^th grade math teacher house– Mr. Candelori’s house.  As we boldly ventured out into the night, we were soon exposed for the wimpy kids we really were. Our bravado began to dissolve even before the first volley of eggs was released.  As we approached the target, our fearless leader Bob Jansen dropped to the back of the pack and timidly disposed of his eggs on the ground.  I at least unleashed one of my two eggs.  I can’t honestly say what happened to the second egg.  It may in fact never have made it much farther than Bob’s eggs as I was hightailing it home almost before the sound of exploding eggs reached our ears.  So I suppose it isn’t entirely fair for me to call Bob “Eggs Benedict” for not throwing his eggs.

Bob and Andy were in Mr. Candelori’s clutches before Andy could mutter his patented phrase, the one he used every time Tim picked on him—which was frequent and often–“freakin, freakin”.  Surely Bob and Andy wouldn’t rat on their fellow Fearsomes, I assured myself as I cowered beneath my bed sheets, feigning sleep, as if the sheets could shield me from discovery.  I didn’t have to wait long to find out.  The Fearsome code of silence lasted about as long as it took Mr. Candelori to say “I’ve called the police”.  Bob and Andy spilled their guts and soon all five young lads, heads hanging low and tails between their legs, accompanied by their parents, were assembled at Mr. Candelori’s in the eerie flashing lights of  a patrol car.  It was the beginning of the end of the Fearsome Five.  It was our scared straight moment.  We had dipped their toes into rebel waters and had decided it was a bit too hot for us.  No more rocking the boat. Conservative and conventional and conforming were more comfortable places for us.

That is, except for Tim.  Tim was different.  He was always different.  The rest of us talked a big game but were really just wimpy kids at heart.  Tim was Fearsome in the true sense of the word.  He wasn’t conventional.  He didn’t conform.  When the rest of us were wavering as we approached Candelori’s house, Tim became bolder.  I can still see him dashing out in front of us all whooping and laughing as he let fly with the eggs.   He had committed to the mission and there was no doubt that his eggs were going to hit their mark.  As his whimpering comrades were being accosted, Tim coolly dove into a thorn bush as if to dare his pursuers to come in after him.  They knew where he was, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t get to him because the thorns were too treacherous.   Later, when even Tim was forced to turn himself in, he was still flashing that ever present impish grin at us, even though his face and arms covered with scratches.  He had the presence to see the humor in the situation—for that matter, in every situation.   The rest of us were too traumatized to think about anything but our impending punishment.

The not so fearsome four of us—me, Jim, Andy and Bob—went on to live relatively safe, traditional and conventional lives.  Not Tim.   He preferred unicycles to bicycles.  He liked to juggle baseballs, not throw them.   He delighted in entertaining rather than studying.  He charted his own path and pursued his passion for magic and mentalism. He became not just a good magician, but a great one.  And in the process he became, in my view, the most successful and most Fearsome of us all.

The following is an excerpt from a quote attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, which captures Tim’s life well:

To laugh often and much
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure betrayal of false friends
To appreciate beauty
To find the best in others
To leave the world a bit better
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived
This is to have succeeded.

To Tim’s family and loved ones  (His father LTC Conover, his mother Rose Marie, his beloved brother Mike and sister Shari) we want you to know that Tim was an inspiration to us, his fellow Fearsome Five.  He showed us how to live a successful life.

Tim, we love you, we miss you and we look forward to one day laughing together again with you.