Apparently, my old next door neighbor, Jerry Moynihan, recently died.
Jerry and his wife, Deb, who works for the state of Minnesota, moved away and I guess were then divorced at the same time of the move, a few years ago. Before that Jerry lived right next door to me, within 35 feet of me, for at least five or six years, maybe longer.
I can't decide which I find more shocking:
That Jerry was only 60 years old. Or
That people who presumably knew Jerry describe him now using the terms "good friend" or "funny, big-hearted" or compliment him on his talent and "beautiful voice".
I take this from Jerry's Legacy.com page. At first I thought the postings were for some other guy or were tongue in cheek. They DO seem to be from people who, CLEARLY knew Jerry at another time in his life, not in the last 5-6-7 years. Because if they did I bet they would not be using glowing terms like "big hearted" or "funny" to describe him. I really seriously doubt it. The terms they would be using would be as far as you can get from funny, and opposite from big-hearted.
I kept a Word doc on Jerry for a while because I always thought that at some point I'd write a story for the Atlantic or Boing Boing about the absolutely awful experience we had living next door to Jerry Moynihan in Red Wing.
I knew that maybe someone who hadn't seen old Jerry in action would have a hard time believing my stories about Jerry. So the notes might help, I thought.
The stories are really that unbelievable I've found. Really, in dinner conversations I have told a few "Jerry stories" as we in the neighborhood like to call them, and the response is usually "no way" until my wife or one of the neighbors confirms that Jerry Moynihan did these things, the response is always "Oh, I am so sorry".
"Don't speak ill of the dead" is an interesting phrase. That I don't really buy. Were Hitler's transgressions erased when he died?
Okay, so Jerry Moynihan wasn't Hitler but he was the worst, troubled and menacing person I have ever lived by in my entire life. There were times that I stood in the street with my fellow neighbors and we discussed buying pistols and getting carry permits solely because of Jerry. Because we feared that the next "Jerry incident" would be him losing complete control and we would need to protect ourselves from him.
There were so many Jerry incidents over the years that it's tough to just describe one. The mental images of him storming out of his house and screaming at the top of his lungs--he did have a voice for screaming--at some stranger who had dared pull into his driveway slightly in order to turn around, or Jerry threatening the neighbor kids (5-6-7 years old at the time) for touching his precious grass when they rode down the sidewalk, or Jerry screaming at the kids for walking on "my sidewalk" or Jerry screaming at the city plows when they inadvertently put snow in his yard, on his precious grass.
Jerry loved his grass and his driveway, we discovered.
Here's a good "Jerry Story":
I once owned an ATV. I didn't use it and offered it for sale on-line. A man from North Dakota contacted me and after hearing the details he decided to drive down. He wanted it and we set a price on the phone. He attached a trailer to his truck and drove 4-5 hours to my house. All was well.
Until the North Dakota man inadvertently parked his truck so that the front of said truck hung six inches over Jerry's driveway.
He was parked on a city street but was older and had mis-judged slightly where the curb ended and Jerry's driveway began. He was a friendly man and stepped out of the truck with his wife and started to look the ATV over, as it sat in my driveway. All was well.
I think the last thing he said to me was "I brought cash".
Just then the door to Jerry's house exploded and he with it. GET THAT FUCKING TRUCK OFF MY PROPERTY NOW! MOVE YOUR TRUCK! I'M CALLING THE POLICE. MOVE IT NOW!
The buyer and I both tried to calm old Jerry Moynihan down, "... calm down Jerry he'll back his truck up" ... but Jerry was livid and just kept screaming at me and the old fellow.
I said, please move your truck back six inches ... and the guy, clearly scared, said yes, I will. He and his wife quickly jumped in his truck. I walked over to the window and told him that I was sorry and Jerry would probably go inside after he backed it up.
The old fellow looked at me as he rolled up the window and he had real fear in his eyes. He said "I'm going home. I'm never coming back here again." And he did just that. He was hammer down down the street with the empty trailer bouncing behind him, as he drove home to North Dakota.
Jerry ranted for a while longer, then went inside. He stumbled down the sidewalk a little and raised his arms triumphantly and said I OWWWWWWN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD. I RUN THIS STREET.
I waited for his wife, Deb, to come home from her State of Minnesota job that night. Once she exited her van I approached her and calmly told her what had went on that day with Jerry, the old guy and the truck. She listened, sort of apologized and confessed she was only staying married to Jerry until their daughter graduated high school. She said that the next time Jerry did something like that, to call the police.
I always thought that was a profound incident, that when a man's own wife tells people to call the police on him it really is something.
I sit here and try to think of one simple thing about Jerry that would put him in a positive light, but I can't come up with it. One time, Jerry--reeking of alcohol--stood on my porch once and proclaimed "I AM A GOOD NEIGHBOR, I AM A GOOD NEIGHBOR." I think Jerry, in some kind of inebriated way, really did think he was a good neighbor. He stepped off the porch and then screamed some more, "MY MOM HAD A STROKE TODAY." I told him I was sorry but to please go home. He then turned, almost fell and then went back to screaming, to no one, I AM A GOOD NEIGHBOR!
The last time I saw Jerry they had their house for sale and the neighborhood was brimming with rumors that "Jerry and Deb" were getting divorced at her behest. He walked up to me in a Perkins parking lot and said hello.
I had never experienced this with Jerry, non-screaming verbal communication from him, and replied "How's it going, Jerry?".
He replied in an odd way."I am okay, today. I am doing okay, today. I don't know about tomorrow. Today, I am good." He seemed lonely, seemed to want me to ask more but after seeing the darker side of his personality and life, for a half decade--up close--I'm afraid I had no sympathy for him. I begged off, got in my car and drove away.
Now Jerry is gone from this earth, his former grass is full of weeds and his former precious driveway is pitted and cracking.
I've really got to write that Jerry Story.
Jerry and his wife, Deb, who works for the state of Minnesota, moved away and I guess were then divorced at the same time of the move, a few years ago. Before that Jerry lived right next door to me, within 35 feet of me, for at least five or six years, maybe longer.
I can't decide which I find more shocking:
That Jerry was only 60 years old. Or
That people who presumably knew Jerry describe him now using the terms "good friend" or "funny, big-hearted" or compliment him on his talent and "beautiful voice".
I take this from Jerry's Legacy.com page. At first I thought the postings were for some other guy or were tongue in cheek. They DO seem to be from people who, CLEARLY knew Jerry at another time in his life, not in the last 5-6-7 years. Because if they did I bet they would not be using glowing terms like "big hearted" or "funny" to describe him. I really seriously doubt it. The terms they would be using would be as far as you can get from funny, and opposite from big-hearted.
I kept a Word doc on Jerry for a while because I always thought that at some point I'd write a story for the Atlantic or Boing Boing about the absolutely awful experience we had living next door to Jerry Moynihan in Red Wing.
I knew that maybe someone who hadn't seen old Jerry in action would have a hard time believing my stories about Jerry. So the notes might help, I thought.
The stories are really that unbelievable I've found. Really, in dinner conversations I have told a few "Jerry stories" as we in the neighborhood like to call them, and the response is usually "no way" until my wife or one of the neighbors confirms that Jerry Moynihan did these things, the response is always "Oh, I am so sorry".
"Don't speak ill of the dead" is an interesting phrase. That I don't really buy. Were Hitler's transgressions erased when he died?
Okay, so Jerry Moynihan wasn't Hitler but he was the worst, troubled and menacing person I have ever lived by in my entire life. There were times that I stood in the street with my fellow neighbors and we discussed buying pistols and getting carry permits solely because of Jerry. Because we feared that the next "Jerry incident" would be him losing complete control and we would need to protect ourselves from him.
There were so many Jerry incidents over the years that it's tough to just describe one. The mental images of him storming out of his house and screaming at the top of his lungs--he did have a voice for screaming--at some stranger who had dared pull into his driveway slightly in order to turn around, or Jerry threatening the neighbor kids (5-6-7 years old at the time) for touching his precious grass when they rode down the sidewalk, or Jerry screaming at the kids for walking on "my sidewalk" or Jerry screaming at the city plows when they inadvertently put snow in his yard, on his precious grass.
Jerry loved his grass and his driveway, we discovered.
Here's a good "Jerry Story":
I once owned an ATV. I didn't use it and offered it for sale on-line. A man from North Dakota contacted me and after hearing the details he decided to drive down. He wanted it and we set a price on the phone. He attached a trailer to his truck and drove 4-5 hours to my house. All was well.
Until the North Dakota man inadvertently parked his truck so that the front of said truck hung six inches over Jerry's driveway.
He was parked on a city street but was older and had mis-judged slightly where the curb ended and Jerry's driveway began. He was a friendly man and stepped out of the truck with his wife and started to look the ATV over, as it sat in my driveway. All was well.
I think the last thing he said to me was "I brought cash".
Just then the door to Jerry's house exploded and he with it. GET THAT FUCKING TRUCK OFF MY PROPERTY NOW! MOVE YOUR TRUCK! I'M CALLING THE POLICE. MOVE IT NOW!
The buyer and I both tried to calm old Jerry Moynihan down, "... calm down Jerry he'll back his truck up" ... but Jerry was livid and just kept screaming at me and the old fellow.
I said, please move your truck back six inches ... and the guy, clearly scared, said yes, I will. He and his wife quickly jumped in his truck. I walked over to the window and told him that I was sorry and Jerry would probably go inside after he backed it up.
The old fellow looked at me as he rolled up the window and he had real fear in his eyes. He said "I'm going home. I'm never coming back here again." And he did just that. He was hammer down down the street with the empty trailer bouncing behind him, as he drove home to North Dakota.
Jerry ranted for a while longer, then went inside. He stumbled down the sidewalk a little and raised his arms triumphantly and said I OWWWWWWN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD. I RUN THIS STREET.
I waited for his wife, Deb, to come home from her State of Minnesota job that night. Once she exited her van I approached her and calmly told her what had went on that day with Jerry, the old guy and the truck. She listened, sort of apologized and confessed she was only staying married to Jerry until their daughter graduated high school. She said that the next time Jerry did something like that, to call the police.
I always thought that was a profound incident, that when a man's own wife tells people to call the police on him it really is something.
I sit here and try to think of one simple thing about Jerry that would put him in a positive light, but I can't come up with it. One time, Jerry--reeking of alcohol--stood on my porch once and proclaimed "I AM A GOOD NEIGHBOR, I AM A GOOD NEIGHBOR." I think Jerry, in some kind of inebriated way, really did think he was a good neighbor. He stepped off the porch and then screamed some more, "MY MOM HAD A STROKE TODAY." I told him I was sorry but to please go home. He then turned, almost fell and then went back to screaming, to no one, I AM A GOOD NEIGHBOR!
The last time I saw Jerry they had their house for sale and the neighborhood was brimming with rumors that "Jerry and Deb" were getting divorced at her behest. He walked up to me in a Perkins parking lot and said hello.
I had never experienced this with Jerry, non-screaming verbal communication from him, and replied "How's it going, Jerry?".
He replied in an odd way."I am okay, today. I am doing okay, today. I don't know about tomorrow. Today, I am good." He seemed lonely, seemed to want me to ask more but after seeing the darker side of his personality and life, for a half decade--up close--I'm afraid I had no sympathy for him. I begged off, got in my car and drove away.
Now Jerry is gone from this earth, his former grass is full of weeds and his former precious driveway is pitted and cracking.
I've really got to write that Jerry Story.