Remembering Dan Cavanaugh

By Tim Schreiner

Because we don't always know much about our classmates who died, how they died, and how they lived, I thought we would ask people who knew each deceased classmate to write something, even if it's short, about them, whether it's about how they died or a story about their life. I will kick it off with an edited version of a eulogy I gave at Dan Cavanaugh's wake. Dan died of a massive heart attack while snow-blowing his driveway during halftime of a playoff football game. Please add your comments below.

Dan Cavanaugh

May 17, 1948 — January 12, 2012

It’s not easy to frame Dan’s life. It’s a big frame and he filled all of it. Husband, Father and Grandfather. Brother. Co-Worker. Friend. Deeply religious. Dan excelled at them all. And he made all of us in every corner of his life feel as though we were the most important people in his life.

He was a great example of a tremendous human being.

Like you, when I was with Dan, he made me happy to be alive, and happy that I was his friend and that he was my friend.

We will always remember that smile. It wasn’t only his mouth that smiled. Dan was such a joyful presence, his mischievous smile was in his eyes and across his face and the tilt of his head when he filled himself, and you, with joy.

Think of Dan and you think of that joy — and of his youthful exuberance. As we grew into adulthood, most of us left that youthful wonder behind. The really special thing about Dan was that he, more than anyone I know, became a man, a husband and father — but kept that inner craziness that made us all want to be with him. When you were with Dan, everything else melted away. And yet, when we needed advice, about gardening, about fishing, about investments, about life — we called Dan.

Dan and son Nathan

Dan had three children — Danielle and Nathan and Matt. Their friends all wanted their dads to be like Dan. His co-workers wanted all of their bosses to be the kind of boss Dan was. The priests wanted more of their parishioners to be like Dan. How many people do you know who walked happily and successfully in both worlds — youthful fun and mature adulthood — the way Dan did?

Dan’s wife Sandy, bless her heart, generously shared Dan in a way most spouses would never abide. She put up with the many of us who made their house our first stop — when we were sad, or needed advice, or just wanted to declare a “fish emergency.” We would all like to think of our house as a place people like to gather, but their house was always full of people coming and going. It was the most welcoming home I’ve ever been in. And they were the perfect pair for it. Dan was the social director and Sandy was the Den mother. And it was renewed when Dan began having grandchildren a decade ago.

And before all that, the large Cavanaugh family squished into that house on North Main, where Dan learned to work with many personalities. It’s where I believe he learned his management skills. You’ve all met the Cavanaughs; you know what I’m talking about.

Think of the qualities that Dan exhibited:

Dan had a sense about the equality of people that we all aspire to and pray for, but he lived it. It didn’t matter if you were a wealthy doctor or you were a nearly penniless, Dan was generous with his time, his love and his friendship.

That man loved a beer, but most of all he loved having it WITH someone.

Dan never held his intelligence over others. If anything, he played it down, like he was just a big dummy, but make no mistake, Dan was incredibly smart. He could be book smart when he needed to be (most people didn’t know he had a masters degree) but he was also street smart, and most of all he was people smart.

Dan and Sandy

Dan could be frugal with his money, even cheap sometimes. (I’m thinking here of the brands of beer he drank.) But he was generous in other ways — perhaps the most important ways: He was generous with his time. He was one of the best listeners I’ve ever been around (and that’s another reason why we liked being around him). He would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

If you asked Dan for help, he almost always gave it. And if Dan turned you down, it was time for YOU to ask yourself what was wrong with your request because he probably had a very good point.

Dan was a hard worker, and a scrapper. He was the undersized center on an overachieving Central High basketball team that made a totally unexpected run at the state championship and fell just short.

And he was loyal — to his family, to the phone company he represented for decades,  to his friends and to his faith.

But no man is perfect. And Dan wasn’t either. He had his faults, but frankly it took me a long time to think of one.

He had his pride and he could be stubborn. He could be just unmovable. (Ask his brother Tom) That man. Sometimes you just wanted to physically pick him up and shake him.

You might remember some tough period of your relationship with Dan, maybe some perceived slight. But that’s not important now. 

Because our world is rocked when Dan died. We miss him, and his great big twinkling smile. And the way he made us feel. And the joy he brought to our lives. And the way he made us laugh. And that little bit of out of the box craziness that kept him young. He had a big heart, and it worked hard for all of us.

We have to remember that Dan taught us, and gave us, joy — the pure pleasure of a life happily lived, with a ton of extra kindness thrown in for good measure.