Tim’s Eulogy
Given by: Matt Laughlin
Timmy and I met at the Kindergarten bus stop on the first day of school. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that he was the one moving. While most of us clutched our mom’s leg, Timmy was in constant motion. At 5, you don’t have the words to describe it, but Timmy was equal parts confidence and energy. I knew I wanted to be his friend.
Timmy and I built our friendship at recess. We were both incredibly competitive and the playground provided the perfect place. Everything was a competition and Timmy’s greatest advantage was his imagination. He’d come up with these ridiculous races that only he could win. Run to the jungle gym, go down the slide, climb the bars, hang upside down from your legs for five seconds, then make three bird calls. On your mark, get set, go…by the time I figured out what we were doing, Timmy would already be on his way down the slide.
I knew I was in Timmy’s inner circle when he bestowed upon me a nickname. I was affectionately known as Hamster. While I pleaded for Timmy to explain to me why, he never relented or provided me with a reason. But I will say, my nickname certainly wasn’t his harshest, and even to this day, when I see any rodent – be it ground hog, gopher, beaver, or squirrel – I smile thinking of Timmy and my nickname.
It also didn’t take me long to figure out that Timmy could scare me a little bit. I am a rule follower, Timmy was not. He’d push us to ‘ride our bikes a little further than we were allowed’, he’d want to figure out ‘what’s at the end of this dark tunnel’, and suggest that we find the answer to the question ‘will this break if we throw it’? Apparently, Timmy’s fire department would ask the question – ‘What would Timmy Smith Do’ – the answer is – ‘he would throw it’. At the Smith’s, these choices often resulted in Pat raising her voice or Lynn raising his eyebrows. Surprisingly and slightly annoyingly, at my house, Timmy could do almost no wrong, regardless of the situation. I’m pretty sure my dad admired Timmy’s chutzpah (huts-puh).
Preparing for today’s eulogy was a reminder that Timmy was truly one-of-a-kind. My memories of him and who he was, what he liked, how he acted, brought out such a variety of thoughts and I’m sure I’m leaving out many of his unique idiosyncrasies. But when thinking of Timmy, these things came first to mind:
• His memory – Timmy had absurd recall. It seemed like he remembered the minute details of every story - who said what, how they said it, where we were or where we were going…it was incredible
• His whistle – if you know, you know. It was piercing and had so many practical uses. I was beyond jealous and tried for years to learn how to do it. Timmy said it was easy, it was not
• His impressions – He could imitate how people walked, looked, and spoke. Arguably, animal impersonations were his strongest. The Smith’s always had multiple animals and Timmy could mimic each of his pets to a tee
• His love of spice - The hotter the better. If it didn’t burn, it wasn’t worth it. I served him one dish with Siracha, probably 15-years ago, and he brought it up almost every time we talked
• His love of fire – Both starting them and putting them out. Timmy became a fireman, which was so perfect. While we are all told to do what we love …few of us actually do it. Until I read his obituary, I didn’t know that Tim was Rookie of the Year. Maybe I should add humble to this list too
• His love of family – one of the biggest perks of being Timmy’s friend was the opportunity to spend time with the Smith’s and the chance to hear Timmy tell stories about his family - many of which involved trips to High Rock Lake, Ocean City, Ohio, Hawaii, or Mexico and what he viewed as each trip’s most absurd event. But I also remember our most serious discussion about family, when he told me he was marrying Meaghan. “I’m getting married, for real”. I know Timmy set a really high bar to become a Smith, a bar Meaghan gracefully cleared
It would also be unfair if I failed to mention that Timmy was a World-Class agitator. A flick of the nose (known as a nostril knocker), a comment, a joke, an impression. He could needle with the best of them. But as the recipient of many of Timmy’s agitations, I can say that it never felt mean. He was always looking for some amusement and his giggle or reaction always brought some warmth to the situation.
Timmy was an incredibly loyal friend. He always showed up. Weddings, birthday parties, funerals, Timmy was there. He’d even make an effort when you didn’t know it. I found out a couple of years ago that Timmy and Lynn would visit my Dad’s grave site when Timmy was in town to drink Crown Royal and play cards. They would still deal my Dad into every hand.
Timmy had a way of making you feel at ease, like only an old friend can. Even if it had been years since we last spoke, he would answer the phone excited, share a random comment from our past and pick up the conversation like we had just spent the last weekend together. We spoke over the phone quite a bit the past couple of years. Our conversations covered many topics, but I always made a point to ask about his kids because I loved hearing him talk about them. He was such a proud father! He was long-winded, detailed, and excited when discussing Lucas and Olivia. You could tell, just by the tone in his voice, that he was in awe of them, just like a great dad should. I particularly enjoyed when he would mention their ornery behavior, with surprise, as if he wasn’t the tree.
But what I’ll remember most about Timmy, and what I admire most, is his attitude over the past couple of years. Even though he was dealt a terribly unfair and untimely hand, he remained remarkably positive. So positive, that many of us didn’t fully understand the severity of his illness. He never complained, he committed to fighting, and he spoke in certainty about winning. It was a selfless act, displaying the strength and courage that we all needed.
I am so grateful for Timmy’s friendship and for Timmy’s example. I miss him and in future card games I’ll be sure to deal him in, until we meet again.
Thank you.
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