Obituary:
John Bolger
(1959-1987)

Image when you're less than ten years out of high school, death is the farthest thing from your thoughts. For John Bolger even near death at the age of 28, it was still the farthest thing from his thoughts. He was always full of life.

We all knew John as a kid and he kept a lot of that humor, playfulness, charm and impishness with him throughout his young adult life. He was the first to knock your books out of your hands, but he was also the first one to help you pick them up. He would pinpoint your weaknesses by showing you his own.

He would enjoy your company just because you grew up with him which meant a lot to him. He still recalled stories of being an altar boy, a safety and writing stories for our one-of-a-kind school paper. He too remembered the smell of mimeograph paper and believed it became one of the driving motivations for him to write.

By now we have all learned that the value of life is not measured in time, riches, or achievements. It is truly measured by the number of people we have touched in the time that is given us. In this respect John lived a valuable life. He was our friend and classmate. He shared the experiences we had at St. John's and at Bishop McDevitt with us. He was in the shows at McDevitt where he proudly represented the Parish of St. John of the Cross in such a visible way. He was with us through the thick and thin of it all, but he also heard his own drummer. Rarely falling into stereotypes or giving into pressure as a kid or as a teenager, John knew what he wanted. He knew who he was, and he pursued it with an energy and vitality that we were taught to have about our lives.

What many of us don't know about John is that he was an Eagle Scout, an actor and a dancer. The arts meant more than just entertainment. They eventually became his life even moving to New York to pursue a career in dance. You would not know it to look at him, but he was strong as an ox and his mind and intelligence were equally strong. He gave everything his all. He did not do things halfway. He was on many levels, a perfectionist. He was intolerant of thoughtlessness. He was unforgiving of carelessness, but always forgiving of mistakes. He appreciated people who at least tried and made the effort because he would. He understood the soul probably because he had so much of it himself.

John left behind his parents who still live on Arline Avenue, two sisters and a brother and...us. His funeral was at St. John's where he so often got in trouble for talking during a practice for a Mass, an altar boy rehearsal or the choir. He even once went up against the terror of Father Henry by once whispering to us around him during one of Father Henry rants, "...boy that priest can yell." When Henry caught the small commotion from the pulpit and asked, "who is talking down there?" John stood right up and said, "I did" We thought we would never see him again, but we did, and it increased the respect we had for him. He knew that you took responsibility for your actions even as a ten year old boy who was already on his way to being a man.

His dedication to us is reflective in the many ways he became a part of us, touched us even if it was just for a little while.

Obituary:
Wilbur Henry
“The Gentle Giant”
(1959-2005)

(by David Kraynik and Frank Michael D’Amore)

He arrived in our lives as a larger-than-life figure—literally and figuratively. Wilbur’s commanding presence immediately captured our attention when he became a student at St. John’s. We were captivated by this man-child, whether it entailed craning our necks to say hello as he towered over us when walking the halls or when we watched as he tried to wedge himself into those cramped desks. What ultimately bonded us to him, though, was his enormous heart, which dwarfed his physical dimensions.

Wilbur grew up on Phipps Avenue, just a few blocks from an array of sports fields and basketball courts. He was a gifted athlete, whose coordination, extraordinary physical gifts, and determination made him a compelling figure in all sports. We first saw this on the football field, as Wilbur not only played tight end and was a defensive stalwart, but also had the agility and touch to be our place kicker. Many of us fondly remember him blasting an extra point kick that sailed through the goal posts, over a fence, down a hill, and into a nearby pond.

Wilbur also excelled on the basketball court, as he teamed with Rodney Basketbill to provide a 1-2 punch that was second to none. Wilbur owned the backboard, and patrolled the lane fearlessly, as he snagged many rebounds and swatted away numerous shots. He was our stabilizing force, especially in the biggest games, as his calm demeanor kept us at ease, even at the tensest moments.

First, and foremost, though, Wilbur was a friend to everyone. We all recall his hearty laugh, which punctuated the din that sometimes was buzzing in our classrooms. Wilbur’s caring nature belied his intimidating presence. He spent many a day working with us on projects, doing all those wonderful altar boy tasks (such as cutting palms!), and generally hung out with us at school, practices, parties, and other activities.

Wilbur joined many of us as he attended and graduated from Bishop McDevitt. Just like at St. John’s, Wilbur was a popular figure at McDevitt. He earned All-Catholic honors in football and was named to the Montgomery County All-Star team in his senior year.

After high school, Wilbur attended Montgomery County Community College before starting a career at Standard Press Steel in Jenkintown, where he worked for over 25 years until his untimely passing.

He married in 1984 and he and his wife, Dawn, were the proud parents of Jason and Jennifer, who are now in their early twenties.

He enjoyed all sports and many family pursuits. He also enjoyed a cold beer and was very proud of the “beermeister” in his den, where he entertained family, friends, and classmates from the St. John’s Class of 1973.

It was with great sadness that we heard that he died suddenly of a heart attack in January of 2005. He died on a Sunday afternoon in his den almost immediately after watching his beloved Philadelphia Eagles win the NFC Championship Game to get them into the Super Bowl. Many of his classmates attended the funeral, which was held at St. John’s. It was quite poignant that our football coach, Mr. Brett, quietly sat in the back of the church as Wilbur’s short life was celebrated. There was nary a dry eye to be found as our good friend was taken away from us, and his family, much too soon.

We will miss Wilbur and his wide-eyed smile that literally lit up a room, but the vivid memories that we have of him will be with us forever.