Eulogy for my father

John Konecsni of Saint John's University, RIP, 1946-2023

Yes, this is the eulogy I presented for my father on Saturday. I wrote it out on Substack so I could work on it from multiple workstations… but since it’s here, I might as well hit the publish button.

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As some of you may know, I write novels under the name Declan Finn—something my father encouraged, with an alias he provided. For one series, I created a saint in the making, Saint Tommy Nolan. While I wrote this character, my saint-to-be was often confused by other people remarking on his good deeds. When Tommy took in stray humans off the street and give them a room in his house, he would shrug and say, “We have the spare room. Why not?” When Tommy gave money to charities, he would say “We have the cash. Why not?” When he was kind to people who were rude to him, he smiled and said, “It drives them crazy. Why not?”

I am not certain if my father ever noticed that I was quoting him in all of those cases. We’ve had over a dozen people live in our house for no other reason than they needed the room and we had it. During his time as an Assistant Dean of Saint John’s University, one toxicology student explained to my father that they spent six hours a day in transit to and from Pennsylvania. Dad’s response was “Don’t be ridiculous. I know a place 15 minutes away from school. They room students for free.”

Dad never told any of these guests that “I know a place” meant the student was being moved in with his family. Dad let us break that to them. He never cited “clothe the naked” or “feed the hungry.” He said, “We can do it. So why not?”

In the weeks since he died, I have lost count of the students who insisted they wouldn’t have made it through school without his intercession. That their lives would be completely different without him. He always dismissed the comments as “It’s my job as a paper pusher.”

In fact, the few times I’ve ever seen my father pissed off was on someone else’s behalf. He once called in a debt over ten years old; when the debt was not repaid, he was only angry because he planned to use the money to loan it to someone else. & God help you if you screwed with his students — or as he called them “his kids.” Some of “his kids” were 30 years old and older, but they were his responsibility. He said it was “just his job.”

But yes, I used my father as a model for a saint. Real saints are … all over the place on the personality map. Saint Francis was a little manic. Thomas Aquinas was an overweight genius who needed a minder. Then there's Saint Jerome… who didn't like anybody except for his pet lion and the hermit down the street, Saint Ambrose.

When I went through dad’s room, and packing up his books, I caught myself. “Isn’t it a shame that he won’t finish this series? Or get to that one book he put off?” But in Heaven, he will never again need to read books, he has access to all knowledge. He has access to God Himself. Of course, being Dad, this won’t stop him from reading all the books anyway.

So there is no need for tears. Because I suspect there is room in Heaven for a slightly antisocial, overweight philosophy professor. Someone who, more often than not, preferred books to people. Someone who downplayed life changing decisions as “It’s just my job.” Someone who dismissed his charity with an offhand, “Why not?

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Doctor John Konecsni leaves behind a daughter, Margaret, wife Gail, son Declan Finn, a daughter in law Vanessa, and over two tons of books.