Monday, June 15, 2015
The Quigleys lived around the corner from our family in Dearborn Heights. Ken and I were big pals from 1st grade through high school and we played just about every sport under the sun. Mr. Quigley was the best...he was hilarious and would tease all of the kids in the neighborhood mercilessly, but always in a fun, kind way - we knew he loved us. He was our first Little League baseball coach - of course he led us to the championship - the Navajos! He would drive us to basketball games, hockey practice (which always seemed to be at 6am on Saturdays in some little out-of-the-way town in Canada - we'd be crossing the Ambassador bridge as the sun was rising). Later in high school, Mr. and Mrs. Quigley and my folks would sit in the stands, rain or shine, and cheer for us during our high school football games (we didn't have as much success on the football field as the Navajos had in baseball). Mr. Quigley was the type of guy who could light up a room full of people just by walking through the door. What a wonderful man. May his memory be eternal.
