Tom Cassidy was born in Crescent City, California on April 9, 1961 and passed away from congestive heart failure on August 7, 2019 at the age of 58. He leaves behind his wife Michelle, whom he married on June 21, 1986.
We were teammates, both sprinters, running track and field at Del Norte High School, where Tom graduated in 1979. It leaves me very sad knowing that Tommy crossed the finish line ahead of me.
Rest in peace, Tom.
“When I got here, I seen that marquee out there with my name in lights on it. My name’s never been up in lights before,” he said in his distinctive Southern-drawl, “But I’ll get over it and sing some for ya, which is why you’re all here tonight.” His enthusiasm was authentic, infectious and the gathered audience ate it up.
I couldn’t help but smile at this familiar act and that’s when I knew I’d been lucky to have seen him perform before fame failed.
There once was a time when they all stopped, wanting to get closer to her magnificence, her beauty, her power. Today, she barely garners a second glance, charm less dazzling, yet with a more subtle type of lovely only to be noticed by those willing to take the time, to slow down, to really look.
As an aged steam engine, she can no longer makes those whistle stops.
“You better make sure you know where our umbrella’s located,” Mom says to me.
But I’m a big boy and she worries too much.
“I’m on an adventure,” I laugh as I make my way to the shores edge, intent on finding sea shells, chasing and being chased by the rolling waves.
Two minutes later: “Where’s our umbrella? Which one is ours. They all look the same.”
Starting to cry, Mom finds and brings me to our umbrella. Now she won’t let me out of her sight, where I must be contented digging holes and building castles in the sand.
The Old Blog in the Desert 