When we were in elementary school, I went over to Seamus' house, and he began playing piano - random pop songs. I was impressed, and asked if he’d memorized all these songs. He said no, he just worked it out by ear. I asked him to show me. He played Elton John’s Rocket Man. I watched and listened, as he started to play the infamous opening notes, occasionally hitting the wrong keys, and stopping to figure out the right note to get back to the melody. I was stunned. I thought I was witnessing a musical genius at play.

By grade 10, Seamus was the best musician in our class. We were forced to learn sheet music. I butchered the Beatles’ song, Blackbird, but ended up with a higher mark. My favourite musician, Thom Yorke, never learned to read sheet music. It was ridiculously unfair, an absolute injustice that, Seamus, with such natural talent and ability, was abandoned by an education system designed to tick off boxes. Seamus, your talent, spirit and beauty will always be remembered and cherished.

In grade 9, Seamus told me about ‘Star Wars’ - the American interest at putting nuclear weapons in space. Being the peaceful, and passionate, loving and energetic person that he was, we made pamphlets criticizing Bush’ war, and imploring the necessity for peace, defending our common humanity. We dropped them into mailboxes. At Laurier, we even snuck them into library books. We were naive and proud little kids - sticking it to the man! Thank you Seamus for shaping my political beliefs. You will be greatly missed.

Seamus was my best friend for many years in elementary school, and I fondly remember debating the ethics of mistreating the virtual park attendees of Roller Coaster Tycoon with him and August during recess, and after school. Later, Seamus was the 'S' in S-M-D (sounded out like 'samedi') of our friend Dan's high school rock band 'French for Saturday'. Seamus' musical talent and ingenuity were matched only by his kindness, humour, and good nature. He will be sorely missed.