Boomer Hickey 1963-2010
The world lost one of it’s more jovial voices.
Dan Hickey was his name but he never went by that.
Boomer.
He was always known as Boomer.
I won’t wax poetic about how we were tight. We weren’t. Not for the last 25-years anyhow.
Various reasons. Distance. Differences. Like 99-percent of everyone’s high school buds.
But Boomer was unique. Memorable. Class clown but not in a goofy, irritating way. He always had a way of brightening up a conversation, a gathering, a party.
Especially a party. In fact he was often the life of the party, and it’s my understanding that it was that trait over the decades that eventually contributed to killing him.
It was not the kind of voicemail I was expecting from my parents over the weekend. They relayed to me Boomer had passed. It’s my understanding it didn’t come as a complete surprise. While I never saw Boomer in a bad mood, it was no secret that he fought a demon. He would get help, but the demon was determined.
In no way am I passing judgement. I’m in no position to throw the first pebble, let alone a stone.
Since I hadn’t kept up with him when I would return to South Bend, my memories of Boomer are frozen in a time warp of the 1970’s and 80’s. Countless Notre Dame games which meant countless tailgaters. A few road trips during college to see ND play Purdue, Michigan and Michigan State. Boomer was an ND grad and on game days was dressed as if he walked right off the pages of the Bookstore catalog.
Tall.
Lanky.
Mitts for hands.
Bleach-blond strands that seemingly thinned before our eyes.
And oh, that chin.
That chin can be seen in the picture below. In ND lore, this is a very famous picture. Harry Oliver kicked a 51-yard fieldgoal to beat Michigan in 1980. Boomer is clearly seen right above the kicker’s helmet. Arms crossed. Jaw set. Seconds later the place went berserk.

One of the few times Boomer wasn't smiling. He, along with 59,074 people in the stadium would be, seconds later.
The moment you walked into a room, he had his arm around you, wanting to know what he could get you and before lurching toward the kitchen, he would stop and tell you a quick joke.
His moods only had one setting.
Good.
In a box of memorabilia sent to me from my parents a few months ago, I came across this picture of Marian High School Graduation Day 1981. Somehow, seven of us bunched together for this photo.
This is how I’ll remember Boomer.
A broad smile.
Certainly in between a story or joke.
Being around Boomer meant being in that group that was a little too loud, but wasn’t hurting anyone. He was the unofficial host of whatever gathering you were at, whether it be at a game or someone’s house. Heck, it could have been your house. Boomer “held court” as they say.
The world has one less court jester.
That means the world now has a few less smiles.









