There was sorrowful loss these past two years. Loss that I thought the IAW&A community had passed through, as we moved from a time that had brought several: the passing of kind and dedicated member Jay Wanczyk; the loss of the wonderful Adrian Flannelly who graced us with an interview for “Crossing The Waters,” the death of pioneering broadcaster and Eugene O’Neill honoree Phil Donahue; and most painfully, the death of Malachy McCourt, IAW&A co-founder and force of nature.
I never imagined we would lose our champion -- my comrade-in-arms and late-night bar flying companion -- Brendan T. Costello, Jr., President of Irish American Writers & Artists. Just a year ago January, Brendan and I were covering significant ground, in one day attending “Meet The Irish” at the Irish Arts Center, driving to St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn for a 7-hour performance of “Volcano,” and later in the evening, observing a nighttime dance showcase at Alvin Ailey featuring Brendan’s physical therapist, Lawrence. Did I mention that the car battery needed a jump as we started our outing at 8 a.m.?
Brendan covered a lot of ground. And he did it without complaint or privilege. At the risk of sounding like a white person who “doesn’t see color,” I would forget that Brendan was in a wheelchair. He was rendered paraplegic at the age of 27, and used a chair for just over half his life. I did not know him as a walking person, and mostly didn’t think about it, other than when I would take his wheels apart to store in the car trunk while he positioned himself in the driver’s seat to get us to one of the Irish events we hosted together. He did have one perk I enjoyed: premium parking.
He never suggested in any way that his disability would preclude his participation or commitment to IAW&A. He was right there in Sunnyside unfurling our banner at the St. Pat’s For All Parade and at the 11th St Bar for the afters. He was a great ear for all the late-night complaining that come from running a volunteer arts organization. And he organized last October’s Eugene O’Neill Lifetime Achievement Award celebration for Alice McDermott from his hospital bed.
My friendship with him was an eye into what it is to be disabled, and in particular, what it is to be disabled in this city. If we planned to take the subway to an event, he’d look on his app to see if the 96th Street station elevator was operating. If it was, he rolled down to meet me, while calculating the availability of a working elevator on the other end. The elevators stank. I recall telling him to slow down because I was in heels.
Hunting for a location for IAW&A’s O’Neill celebration after the original Rosie O’Grady’s closed in 2023, we waited for a bus on 5th Avenue and 38th Street one night. In the mysterious inefficiency that is New York City, it never arrived. So we made our way through overwhelming crowds to the Times Square mega-station -- only to find out that its elevator was under repair. We hightailed it farther west. After waiting for another 45 minutes, we were finally able to board a bus on 47th and 8th Avenue. The bus was slow. It took us hours to get to the Upper West Side from midtown. My able-bodied fuse was short. Brendan was unbothered.
It is a shock. He and I spent many hours crafting the wording announcing IAW&A’s various projects. Together we worked on the statements about the deaths of Jay, Adrian, Phil, and Malachy. It was so very strange to do the same for him a few nights ago.
We became very close when I became President of Irish American Artists and Writers in 2020 and he assumed the role of Vice President. The two of us really bonded during the pandemic, bringing our arts organization onto Zoom and keeping programming alive for our members. In fact, the night New York closed, he and I were at a bar on 106th and Amsterdam organizing our on-line St. Patrick's Day event. We asked people who would normally present their artwork in person to share their visual, film, printed, and musical work on Facebook as a "Dancing At The Crossroads," an Irish tradition of meeting at a rural junction for a ceili or traditional dance. We figured that once St. Patrick's Day 2020 was over, we'd soon be able to meet at the actual crossroads again. That night we heard the news that all bars and restaurants would be closing in New York City and that the bar we were sitting in would close at midnight...so we went directly to the bar next door, Dive 106, Brendan's local. Until we got booted with the news that everything was shutting down immediately.
A gift from the president to a former president.
Despite it all, the organization thrived, we all learned Zoom, and Brendan and I became close friends. After lockdown, we strategically returned our in-person salons to the backroom of the Ellington, a local restaurant owned by an Irishwoman that is equidistant from our apartments. Because we live so close to each other, we had many a session gossiping, commiserating and planning activities in the neighborhood. Beyond our common purpose, I was so lucky to have an intellectual, creative and fun friend nearby.
Last year, Brendan was experiencing autonomic dysreflexia and it was found that he had spinal fractures and osteomyelitis. He had three surgeries and was in the hospital/rehab from August through mid-December.
I kidded him that one of his operations was on Election Day. “See what happens when you go unconscious for a few hours? Trump gets elected.” And now of course, he has missed the inauguration. Well played, Bren.
When I retired from my position at IAW&A, Brendan gave me a beautiful bowl which holds place of pride in my tiny apartment. It is made in the kintsugi tradition. Kintsugi, I learned from Brendan, is the Japanese art of repairing broken bowls by gluing pieces back together and filling the cracks with golden (or silver or platinum) powder. Kintsugi asserts that nothing is ever truly broken, rather it is reaching the next stage of its evolution. The damage is part of its wonderful story. Imperfection is beauty.
What better metaphor or gift to remember my beautifully perfect friend.
Let’s meet at the crossroads, Brendan.
Maria Deasy (www.mariadeasy.com) was Brendan Costello's predecessor as president of the Irish American Writers & Artists.
For a collection a six short tributes, “What the world lost,” see here; and for a statement from the Irish Echo's publisher, see here; for the obituary with funeral details, see here.
