Willing to work with his hands

Deepa Bharath

George Healey was the quintessential man’s man.

He loved to work with his hands. He enjoyed racing cars and

driving around in trucks.

He created, built and fixed things with his bare hands.

It was with little surprise to anyone in his family that he chose

to work in the building industry.

George was a third-generation Costa Mesan. His grandfather was one

of the pioneers to settle in this area, even before it became a city.

George went to St. Joachim’s Catholic School and later graduated from

Estancia High School.

He attended Orange Coast College briefly, but decided that college

and academia were not his cup of tea. George decided to follow in his

father’s footsteps. He started from scratch and worked his way up the

ranks. He learned everything he knew from his dad.

At 53, he was director of purchasing for a building company in

Irvine. George was loved and respected by his colleagues.

George had a soft corner for children. His friends called him the

Pied Piper because kids followed him everywhere.

He hung out with the children in the neighborhood, fixing their

bikes or just chatting with them in his garage.

George was a true blue Boy Scout. He was in the Cub Scouts, Boy

Scouts and the Explorer Scouts. He raced quarter midgets, open-wheel

kid-size race cars, since he was 4 years old. He had plenty of

admirers even at that tender age.

His 8-year-old granddaughter, Mica Jane, was the love of his life.

George was the perfect granddad. He took her to the movies. They

rode their bikes together. He attended all her school events. He even

had her started on golf.

George always enjoyed a game of golf. He was a regular at the

Costa Mesa Country Club.

“He taught his boys manners on the golf course that he learned

from his dad, Pat,” said his mother, Doreen Healey. “He’d say, ‘It’s

like life -- it’s not how far you hit it, it’s how straight.’”

But George lived for his family. Everything else was secondary.

He was extremely attached to his parents. He called them twice a

day -- once in the morning and once at night. He’d simply call to ask

them how they were doing.

George took care of his parents through their bad days and

sicknesses. He always had a smile for them. A quick joke or an

anecdote. He would tease them and give them a hard time if that’s

what it took to make them laugh.

George grew up in a different Costa Mesa, in a time when it had

more of a small-town feel to it. And he truly enjoyed that. It was

pure, unadulterated fun.

He was outgoing. He smiled and talked to everyone irrespective of

race, gender or status.

They all showed up at his funeral -- in their fine clothes, their

work clothes, their casual clothes. They shed their tears for George

and filled up the church with their presence.

And that bore testimony to the kind of person George was -- a man

who was loved and continues to be cherished by those who were lucky

enough to know him.