My Friend Connie
Meanwhile, up in heaven...
Last Sunday, approximately 30 minutes before the Eagles took on the Saints, I was absolutely devastated to find out that my dear friend Connie Hoy had passed away.
I first met Connie in 2008, when I bartended at the gone-but-never-forgotten sports bar Philly West in Westwood, CA. The moment I met her, I knew that she was what we all wish we could be; real. I would look forward to hanging with her every shift as she came in to watch the games and root for her Chicago Bears.
When I stopped working there to move on to other pastures, I became a regular customer myself and am so glad I got to see my Birds win the big one there. A few years after I left, my old boss asked me to cover a few shifts as a favor, and I accepted in no small part due to the fact that I knew I'd be able to hang with Connie once again.
It was so fun talking music and film. She’d always give me a hard time for not liking Bob Dylan (“It’s the 60’s, man!!!”) The film/music conversation would flow like lovely river, always. The jukebox would start up a new song and off we went to the races!
That said, I also must give her credit for the time when, circa 2009, I was still bitter over a recent break up and I will admit that I didn’t exactly hide it during my shift. UNTIL:
“JORDAN. GET IT TOGETHER. COME ON.”
I snapped out of it.
That was Connie; she kept it real but she kept it all with love and compassion. No excuses, Connie, you were right. The world does not run on my feelings.
In March of 2016, Connie and I both went through terrible losses at the same time. My father passed away in South Carolina. A week or so after I got back to LA, I went to Philly West to watch a game. About an hour in, I noticed Connie and her friend walk in and sit down. Head down, she was wearing a fedora, not smiling, and I suspected that something was up.
I asked the bartender, “What's going on?”
“Buck passed away.”
Buck, her beloved husband of 35 years. Buck, I only knew you casually, but, shout out coming down below.
Connie and I commiserated together, shared stories, and the next week, she had some bracelets made. With one word.
Onward.
Connie, my sister from another Mister, I sobbed when I found out of your passing. I’m sorry that I didn’t know about your passing in August until now (Thank you, Erich, for telling me). Your last text to me was wishing me a Happy Birthday in June. I think I speak for all of us who loved you that part of me is still in denial that you’re gone, I’m still waiting for you to call me back. That’s the grieving process.
Alas.
Connie, buddy, I, WE, will always miss you. And I am so grateful I got to call myself your friend. I promise to always take your advice. To stop feeling sorry for myself. To let go of the negativity. To do my best every day.
Onward.
Buck, buddy, I take solace in knowing that you and Connie (seen here) are finally reunited in heaven.
Connie, to quote one of my favorite films about resilience and courage…we’ll see you again. But not just yet. We love you forever.
Jordan
PS: Connie, I am officially adding your script, “XII,” to my, “Cinematic Bucket List.” You were trying so hard to get this incredible heist picture made as a tribute to Buck. If I can be of any assistance to make your dream come true, I would love to so do.
