Eulogy For A Friend

The following was printed in the September 18, 2009 edition of the Lawrence Eagle-Tribune.

HAVERHILL — Stephen R. Landry Jr., 26, of Haverhill, passed away unexpectedly at his home.

Stephen was born in Lawrence on April 20, 1983 to Allyson (Engels) Senee of Haverhill and Stephen R. Landry Sr. of Bradford.

Stephen was the cherished grandson of Cecelia Landry of North Andover, Garrett Engels of Malden and Alice Engels of Seabrook, N.H. He was predeceased by his grandfather, Reginald Landry.

It is with tremendous sadness that I write today’s blog entry. Steve Landry, one of my great childhood friends, recently passed away. I’d like to take this opportunity to share some of my thoughts and memories of Steve.

Steve enrolled at Thomson Elementary School in North Andover sometime in third or fourth grade, and though I don’t remember the impetus behind us becoming friends, we hit it off fairly quickly after his arrival. Steve lived on Beverly St., two streets away from my home on Middlesex. The families of Thomson students lived in pretty close quarters, and Steve quickly became a fixture in the neighborhood and in my group of friends at the time. Steve and I remained close through middle school and freshman year at North Andover High School, after which he moved to New Hampshire. I saw him sparingly from that point.

Steve had a rather legendary temper. More often than not, he was pleasant to be around. But certain things would happen that would set him off and he’d go into a rage. To be fair, his temper and mood swings could be somewhat frightening, but he would never direct them at me or our other friends. Steve acted as a sort of protector; he had the gumption to say what was on his mind and he never backed down from anyone. If he perceived that he or any of us were being slighted, he had no problem getting in the offender’s face. It didn’t matter if it was a peer or a teacher. Sometimes this would get us into a bit of trouble, but Steve felt it was his duty as a friend to help us if we ever had any issues. We admired and respected him for that.

As a child, I (and probably most kids back then) had self-esteem issues. At Thomson, I was young enough to put those thoughts out of my mind by playing a video game or riding my bike or something. When I arrived at North Andover Middle School, however, those issues became magnified. I started becoming worried about girls. I worried about coming off as “cool”. It was a confusing and often troubling time. Steve wasn’t just protective muscle. He became a confidante, and we would talk about these childhood problems. He gave me an outlet to vent about my situation, and I provided the same for him. I felt like we worked through our problems together, and without that, my experience in middle school undoubtedly would have been much worse.

Of course, Steve was also hysterical. He loved mischief and he loved a good laugh. I mentioned previously that he’d say anything to anyone. In seventh grade, we had a science teacher named Ms. McMillen. None of my classmates much cared for her at the time, and we’d often interrupt her classes with idiotic questions guised as serious inquiries. Two of my other classmates and dear friends, Matt Steele and Jeremy Cote, still talk about a time that he interrupted Ms. McMillen, mid-sentence, to ask, “I know astronauts can go up. But can they go down?” It was such a stupid question, asked with a perfect tone of sincerity. We all had a good laugh. Another time, Ms. McMillen had had enough of Steve’s antics for one day, and kicked him out of the class. Steve protested and asked specifically why he was being kicked out. When Ms. McMillen said they would discuss it later, Steve asked with incredulousness, “Forget that. Why don’t we get it out in the open now?” Of course, in a group of thirteen year olds, all looking to ruin the class, this comment inspired complete lunacy; one of those sublime moments where the teacher completely loses control of the class.

In eighth grade, we had an English teacher named Ms. Erickson. We were reading detective novels and Ms. Erickson, doubling as the drama teacher at the middle school, had arranged “crime scenes” in the back of her classroom based on the books we were reading. Steve, Jeremy, and another friend of ours, Chris Weller, would break all of the crime scene props daily. Each day, Ms. Erickson would set everything up again, and each day everything would be broken and smashed. Eventually, she turned to gluing everything down as a way to prevent this. It didn’t work. I remember nearly peeing myself laughing as Steve yanked chess pieces off of a chessboard they were glued to and stomped them on the floor. Sure, it was immature, reckless destruction, but we were fourteen, and that kind of stuff was hilarious to us then.

I think what I’ll remember the most about Steve is simply being a kid with him. When I think of what childhood was like growing up near the Lawrence border of North Andover, Steve is one of the first people that pops into my mind. He and our other friends played baseball at Carl Thomas together, we went to each other’s birthday parties, we watched Saturday morning wrestling, and we bought candy at Frannie’s and Joe’s. It sounds really corny, but he really will live on in those memories forever.

Though I hadn’t seen Steve for many years, the idea that I won’t see him again is one that fills me with sadness. For those that knew him well and counted him as a friend, he was one of the best. So long, pal. Death comes for us all; but it shouldn’t ever come this soon.

John Lacey