I Am Not George Lazenby
Sean Conroy Cubed, plus one
1) Sean Conroys (Seans Conroy?)
2) Writers' meet-up
SEAN CONROYS
When I was a kid, the name “Sean" still looked weird to people. So for years on the first day of school roll-calling teachers would say, “Seen? Seen Conroy?”
Yes. Yes I have.
Now the name is way more common. Investigatory documentarian Sean Penn. Consummate orator Sean Spicer. Hard-hitting journalist Sean Hannity. And just to confuse Starbucks baristas when they write my name on my grande black-eye or whatever, there’s also Hardy Boy Shaun Cassidy, South Dakotan singer/songwriter Shawn Colvin, former Chicago Cubs shortstop Shawon Dunston…
Of course, there was one other Sean when I was a kid. And he went by a different name- Bond. James Bond.
I asked my parents once why they named me something so close to the name of a celebrity, so that people would constantly pronounce my name “Sean Connery,” or just laugh at how close mine was to his. I’m pretty sure it was the same for him- he hated it when he would check into hotels and they were like “Wait, Sean Conroy? The remarkably funny resident of the Glenwood Lake neighborhood of New Rochelle, New York? Ha!”
My Mom said “We didn’t think he would become that famous.”
I was born exactly one month to the day from when Sean Connery released his 5th James Bond movie, You Only Live Twice (screenplay by Roald Dahl- people don’t realize the original title was James Bond and the Giant Peach). Connery was a HUGE star-almost as big at that time as Lee Marvin!
My parents also said they came very close to giving me their second choice name, which I am glad they did not, because their second choice was “George Lazenby.”
When I first started to become familiar with Google I set a Google alert for “Sean Conroy,” and I’ve never gotten rid of it. This has led me to some interesting stuff:
The first openly gay player in pro baseball history
This medical practioner’s book, which has a cumbersome title.
When I moved to LA and started working in television I got a trainer at Gold’s Gym near my house. Soon after, an alert about his blog popped up- I can’t find the link now but I remember he talked about training “Sean Conroy, some big fucking fat guy who writes for a show called Love Inc.” Then he said something about how “all these motherfuckers in Hollywood write or act or dance or some shit.”
I should have danced more.
I also probably should have turned the Google alert function off then, but in my defense, he probably shouldn’t have referred to me so disparagingly in his blog.
In his defense, he was on some fad diet where he was only allowed to eat for like 8 minutes a day. And all he could have during that time was a slice of tomato, a lettuce leaf, and a butter pat. Makes one cranky. I mean, he was cut. Built like a serving spoon on pipe cleaners. Fun to work with, very inspiring.
I think they charged me like $60/session, and probably paid him like $5.25 an hour.
Anyway, I got this Google alert about a Sean Conroy recently.
He’s a priest in Colorado who is celebrating Mass at the top of a number of Colorado’s 14,000 foot peaks. He climbs with groups of as few as 3 or 4 people, and as many as 20. He says he has done Mass at the top of about 15 of them.
Just so you know, 14,000 feet is really high. There are 53 Fourteeners in Colorado, 96 in North America.
On July 11, 1991, I climbed my first and only Fourteener, in Colorado, called Crestone Peak. Here’s some of what I wrote in my journal that day:
We set off up the talus… only problem (besides lack of oxygen) was that I couldn’t see… my glasses kept fogging up. I was wearing my Croakies instead of my Chums… tried to clean… little success…
Cool dude.
It was a hard climb- snow, talus, fixed line, loose scree, we had to go through all of them before we were halfway up… I was pretty mad at Tony for expecting us to keep up with him…
Tony must have been a guide or instructor (it was an Outward Bound mountaineering course), but I have no recollection. Bearded, most likely.
… we did it. We bagged a fourteener… we ate lunch… peanuts, sunflower seeds, tunafish… Steve gave everybody a miniature Snickers bar… tasted like the best chocolate I had ever had.
Literally no description of what we saw, what we said, how we felt emotionally. Just fucking hunger. Probably same as when Norgay and Hilary first summited Everest.
… back to camp. Whew. The whole ordeal took about 11 ½ hours… then we went to bed.
Realize, the ellipses mean I am cutting out the really boring parts. Still, fun to read through it again all these years later.
I don’t really go to Mass anymore, except for weddings and funerals, but. Mass at the top of a Fourteener? I’ll bring the Snickers, you bring the eucharist, Father Conroy. And what if I could get the baseball player and the young physician assistant to come?
Sean Conroy saying Mass for Sean Conroy, Sean Conroy, and Sean Conroy.
Is tunafish one word or two?
If you enjoyed reading this post, I’d really appreciate it if you would share it, wherever you can. Family reunions, the internet, swap meets… Thanks so much.
WRITERS’ MEET-UP
This Friday, October 11, 2024, we’re gonna get together for drinks (writers love drinks) at Bigfoot Lodge, 3172 Los Feliz Boulevard, Los Angeles, California 90039. I’ll be there from around 7 on, and stay til at least 9, so come by, have some laughs, network a little, get to know some people who are trying to do the same thing you are.
Talk soon.
Stay safe.