Thoughts written by his daughters from a lifetime of memories shared by those that loved him.

Whatever happened to

The life that we once knew?

Always made me feel so free

Free as a bird

It’s the next best thing to be

“Girls, do you know who sings this song?” 

“The Beatles!” we would reply enthusiastically.

Our dad would smile and proudly exclaim, “You got it! You’re right! The Beatles!”

We smiled back. This played out hundreds and hundreds of times.  We were certain that one day he would try and trick us by slipping in another artist. Our dad was known for tricks and practical jokes of all sorts. Think fishing line tied to a rubber frog being slowly manipulated across your childhood bedroom in the middle of the night -kinda prank.  Eventually he would surely throw in another band just to trick us, right? The Monkees? Herman’s Hermits? The Kinks? Nope,never! The game carried on for decades, the answer never varied.

His family knows EVERY Beatles song. His granddaughter received a Beatles shirt from her Auntie before she could walk, has a room full of Beatles paraphernalia and even dressed up as Yoko Ono for Halloween. 

While we were trying to catch him tricking us, the real trick was the connection he was building between his family and the only band that was always the correct answer. 

Our dad’s favorite Beatle? Ringo! Have you ever heard anyone say that? Ringo….such an unusual, lovable fellow….just like our dad.

As we grew, family stories revealed our dad was a prankster long before us girls came along.  Our grandfather never did find out why his car would conveniently “not start” and yet was somehow seen joy riding around the city while he walked home. We’ll certainly never tell.  But what we can tell you is that every story was dripping with love, belly-aching laughter, hope, resilience, strength in numbers, and a family who had each other’s back without conditions. 

Dad grew up as the second of five children in a Southside Chicago Irish Catholic home.  He lost his mom at a young age and was faced with multiple adversities. Our dad was resilient, calm, patient, determined, loving, dependable, big-hearted, self-less, and clearly subtle.  

The priests at our dad’s school knew he and his friends’ hijinks all too well. Catholic schools in the 60s were known more for rulers, chalkboards, and corporal punishment than for teaching with a loving, compassionate hand. But despite those antiquated practices, our dad’s wild spirit was never tamed, and it would go on to fuel his ambition and determination. He sharpened his mechanical skills at Clark Gas Station, Peacock’s Car Wash, and Flynn’s Service Station before, in 1972, his Uncle Tom took him to the Engineers Union.

“No matter where you work, or what you do, find the smartest person, follow them around, and ask them a million questions.”

These were our dad’s words to live by and this practice led to quick advancement in his field. He would eventually be promoted to Chief Engineer of the John Hancock Center. He would spend almost thirty years in the building that became a second home, another family, and a piece of all of us. He gave behind-the-scenes tours of the rooftop, climbed antennas to hang the Christmas star, and was even part of the filming of Poltergeist. He made friends that lasted a lifetime and brought on his son-in-law, Josh, to follow in his footsteps. He would retire as the Manager of Technical Services at US Equities Commercial Real Estate.

Engineering wasn’t our dad’s only trade. Community responders and health care providers are plentiful in the Glynn family.  The night his first daughter, Nikki, was born, he was fighting a five alarm fire with the Central Stickney Fire Department.   Just as he did in the field of engineering, our dad worked his way through the ranks, eventually becoming a paramedic and Lieutenant EMT.

Our dad was a master angler. On the weekend mornings if he wasn’t fishing, he was watching fishing shows on television.  As kids, we believed our dad’s tackle boxes were treasure chests.  We believed the fish tales about “the one that got away” and that minnows would come back to life if placed back in the water. That said, we also believed him when he told us he could fly and breathe through his eyes.  As adults, we believe that he found healing on the water and the time he spent on it with his family and friends.

As kids we spent vacations camping around the Midwest with friends and family.  We fished and camped at the club where our dad eventually became president. When we grew up we realized the intense amount of work that was required to make camping fun. When we were young we assumed the set up was magic. When we were older we assumed that he enjoyed all that work.  As adults we recognize his acts of love were all about the magic of the experience of simply being together. 

While our dad loved our trips to JellyStone Park, and probably more so his travels to Canada,  Aruba, the Bahamas, Hawaii, Brazil, and Ireland, no place captured his heart and soul like Little Green Lake, WI.  He and Deb built a home and a community of friends and family around their lake house. When the garage door was open, people gathered to share a drink, a story, and a connection with a man who listened, helped in any way, and never judged a soul. 

Our dad had no shortage of stories. He spent his time collecting memories and making them. This week, family and friends have helped heal our hearts with stories of Budweiser pajamas,Christmas Eve at “church”, Christmas parties at the Glynns, including the Samba and eggnog fairies, patio parties with neighbors, watching the Bears games outside, epic Fourth of July parties, having his foot run over at Primos Ice Cream Parlor, getaway security cars in Vegas, catching snails after weddings, watching “deliveries” from the back of his childhood home, how he got rich collecting money from under the carnival rides…the list goes on and on. 

Our dad spent his entire life “doing” for EVERYONE. He built and fixed cars, finished all the basements, painted all the walls, moved all of the houses, and even housed many of us.  Our dad installed countless furnaces, garage doors, light fixtures, and fans. He called in lots of favors for us, sent money, sent food, kept our secrets, shared his advice. He talked us off the ledge and out of trouble. He once had a nice conversation with the police over a sodding incident with a friend. He picked out puppies to help fix people, he fixed people, he even “fixed” his daughter’s teeth without having to pay for braces! A lifetime of acts of service was exactly how he was able to heal the adversity placed on his heart as a young child. He loved his people fiercely. He made us all feel safe and infallible, leaving us sure we could accomplish anything our hearts desired.

On October 22nd, our dad took his last breath as one more Beatles song played..

“Ob la di, ob-la-da, life goes on

La-la, how the life goes on.”  Of all Beatles songs Dad, really?

Our dad loved life and always made it clear he intended to live forever, whether through bionic body parts, cryonics, you name it. In the end, he will live on through the way we love each other, how we handle our adversity, and of course our memories.

Another angel got its wings. Rather, another fish got its fins.

Be careful Dad…watch the intersections….we love you.

*A gathering will be held in the summer, when we can come together and celebrate Mike Glynn’s life.  If you would like an invite please enter your information in the link below.

Mike Glynn Celebration of Life