Thomas Edward Shannon

Tom was raised by his parents, Edward & Florence (nee Kehoe) in Irvington, New Jersey with his three brothers, Edward, Peter and William. He graduated from Seton Hall Prep and Seton Hall University and was an avid Seton Hall Basketball fan. After graduating, Tom married Joan Meyer, also of Irvington, and entered as an officer into the United States Army.

After serving in Fort Lewis, Washington, and Bamberg, Germany, he returned to New Jersey to pursue a career in education. Tom taught Math at Irvington High School for over thirty years and made many lifelong friends who shared his love of horses and handicapping.

After retirement, Tom and Joan enjoyed many trips throughout the United States and Europe. They made many good friends through traveling and their involvement with the Union YMCA, the Township of Union Senior Center, and the Holy Spirit 60 Plus Club – especially the casino trips. Tom and Joan, a retired Holy Spirit teacher, have also been active members of the Holy Spirit Parish since 1975.

Tom especially loved vacationing in Manasquan with his family, his brothers and their wives, Catherine, Pat, Jo and their children. Tom said he “enjoyed sitting on Manasquan Beach looking at the Atlantic Ocean with his wife, children, daughter-in-law, sons-in-laws and grandchildren while they are swimming and playing together on the beach. Seeing his entire family enjoying each other’s company is a wonderful feeling and remembers how truly blessed he is.” Vacation highlights included daily scrabble games on the beach with his siblings, their spouses and Joan’s sister, Bess, and her husband, Gene. Afterward the fun continued with happy hours and pinochle games back at the bungalows.

Tom is survived by his wife, Joan (nee Meyer) and brother Peter. He always said his greatest achievement was his five children and their accomplishments -- Catherine Avino (Frank), Thomas Shannon (Gail), Ann-Margaret Shannon, Ellen Reyda (David) and Patricia Barberio (William). He also leaves behind grandchildren: Laura (Robert), Stephen and their father, Thomas Avino; Thomas (Chloe), Megan and Brian Shannon; Cassidy & Christopher Reyda; and Kimberly, Ashley, and Matthew Barberio. He was also blessed with a great-granddaughter, Rose Cowper and thirteen beloved nieces and nephews.

A visitation for Thomas will be held Thursday, April 10, 2025, from 3:00 PM to 7:00 PM at McCracken Funeral Home, 1500 Morris Ave, Union, NJ 07083.

A funeral mass will take place Friday, April 11, 2025, 10:30 AM at Holy Spirit Roman Catholic Church, 971 Suburban Rd, Union, NJ 07083.

Graveside service to follow at Gate of Heaven Cemetery & Mausoleum, 225 Ridgedale Ave, East Hanover, NJ 07936.

Memories of Dad - Thomas E. Shannon

During the night, the bedroom door quietly opens and the light from the hallway peers slowly in. Initial gasps and giggles mark the movement of the gentle monster creeping along the floor. Low growls slowly fill the air as the creeping figure rises. The giggles rise to laughter as soft, strong fingers quickly spread tickle after tickle across the children bouncing and darting across the beds. He would always say goodnight.

That was our dad.

The sun shines brightly as our family turns the corner of Chancellor Avenue, heading for 66 Rutgers Street. A day most likely of shopping for groceries, watching dad fall asleep in the barber’s chair after a shave and hot towel and hunting for treats and candies at Roxy Sweet Shop. Then steps from home, mom and dad having been laughing the whole way, unexpectedly, dad bellows Let’s Go Out To Eat!! And the chorus of cheers and excitement is heard round the block.

That was our dad.

And where would we go? The choices were endless. Would it be Howard Johnson’s? Yes, if you were in the mood for a Plymouth Rocky turkey dinner or the fried chicken and shrimp, with some of that still finding its way home even when dad had finished his entire plate. Or would it be Joe Belle’s, a neighborhood tavern owned by a friend of dad’s. Yes, if you wanted pizza, mussels marinara and the best chicken parm sandwiches in New Jersey. And rumor had it that they also made the best Old Grand Dad Perfect Manhattans. But didn’t dad say they were iced teas?

That was our dad

Three o’clock on a weekday afternoon, home from teaching, dad rests comfortably in his favorite chair, sipping a cup of tea, crunching on a small snack, only thirty minutes before he leaves for his second job as manager of Howard Johnson’s; or was it Hertz Rent A Car; or was it bartending at Nick Al’s; as kids, we couldn’t remember a time he wan’t working a second and third job. The welfare of his family always came first.

One footnote: I neither can confirm nor deny that during this ritual, dad sat in his boxers, his pants hung ceremoniously on the hall closet door.

That was our dad

But wherever and whenever dad worked, we weren’t far behind. Mom had to transport dad at times so, naturally, one of us always came along because we knew the treats that would come, whether it be Ann’s favorite ice cream sundaes, the hot meals, cold beers (at 18 of course) as we waited for him to close down the shop. Other times, he would put us to work, completing simple chores to help expedite things under the guise of teaching us life lessons. Many a times did Trish help open NickAl’s bar by setting up the glasses and making the orange juice. I’ll never forget the college winter break I spent serving as ‘head dishwasher” (like there was an assistant) at Ho Jo’s, when the automatic washer suddenly broke. Dad laughed, smiled and threw dish towels at me. Some life lesson.

That was our dad

It’s Saturday morning, which usually meant one thing. A trip to the Orange YMCA. While I shoot hoops or run the track suspended over and around the courts, dad slips away to compete in the handball courts. I interrupt my exercise to peer in the court below, watching an agility and skill I only otherwise see when he chases me down after teasing my sisters. Later, after our showers, we gather in the locker room sitting room to watch sports. Feeling so elevated and accepted, I am one of the guys. Then, before returning home, we lunch at Val and Connie’s luncheonette, feasting on hamburgers and vanilla shakes. Dad holds court as countless people greet him. I am with royalty.

That was our dad

Sundays always meant we were going to church. Deeply religious, mom and dad made sure we had a catholic foundation to help steer our lives. On beautiful sunny days, our family would march together to church; the Von Trapp family had nothing on us, as Dad would keep us organized with a firm, gentle reminder to “Stay to the right!” His grandchildren can confirm that this directive remains strong today. Focused and deliberate during mass, I admired his attention to bowing his head upon hearing the name of Jesus. I also quickly came to respect his other bend of his head (and stern glare) whenever our rear ends hit the pew while we were kneeling. I remember a conversation about the gospels, pondering the the belief by some that of our faith was just the greatest story ever told. To him, that idea didn’t matter; his belief gave him purpose and that was all he needed. Dad didn’t wear his Catholicism on his sleeve, but the way he lived his life clearly illustrated his strong faith.

That was our dad.

But when we couldn’t make it to the Y, the Hillside Community pool served us just as well. The five of us loved this place. Swimming, games, contests, movies, snack stand with our favorite, the Zooga, an exquisite display of marinara sauce soaking through a hamburger roll. Only the best. And our parents loved it as well, for the pure pleasure of leaving them alone for awhile. But dad would always participate in the games and contests with us, highlighted by a close second place finish in the Father/Son swim race, where our first place chances were doomed on the second lap, as, from then on, dad had to swim with only one arm to prevent his bathing suit from sliding down to his ankles.

That was our dad

Summers in Manasquan; two weeks where 15 cousins, 6 parents and 2 grandparents pretty much took over the entire beach. Let the mayhem commence. But arguably some of the happiest times of his life. Dad was with all his loved ones. Whether keeping on eye on us swimming in the ocean, playing whiffle ball or running bases on the beach, or embroiled in intense games of scrabble, he reveled in the family joy surrounding him. Nighttime found him immersed in more fun competition as the adults played pinochle late into the night. During these moments, his charm and humor were on full display, as one mesmerized cousin eventually crowned him…. A funny Guy!! And let’s not forget the legendary Happy Hours hosted on different nights by dad or his two brothers, as we all packed into the selected bungalow where shrimp awaited the adults and McDonald’s hamburgers greeted the kids. And each night was never complete without some cousins trying to steal some shrimp. My father, having four daughters, was notorious for letting the girls get a small share. Always the ladies’ favorite.

His summers in Manasquan would last for decades as his children continued the tradition with bungalows of their own. Now, surrounded by just as many people, he played the role of proud grandpa, witnessing very similar scenarios, but with a wisdom, sensitivity and contentment born from such good fortune. He was ever keen about family gatherings becoming a bit laborious for his growing number of teenage grandchildren, often telling me…”Let them go see their friends, I remember being 18 at family outings.” He also knew when to listen to their innocent wisdom, as 7 year old Stephen Avino convinced grandpa to quit smoking. Such fortune just fueled his already generous nature as he showered his grandchildren with endless love, endless support and endless pizza money. No matter the occasion, season or holiday, Grandpa Shannon never forgot this precious commodity. He earned the right to spoil them all.

That was our dad.

Our protection; our comfort; our teacher; our inspiration; our hero.

We love you. Rest in peace