Sonny Samuel Coulter

Sonny Samuel Coulter came into the world on April 29, 1971, in Grove City, the son of James C. Coulter of Boyers and Vanessa Kristyak of Hermitage. He passed away on Thursday, Nov. 29, 2018.

He loved a golden dawn on a warm day, getting up ahead of everyone he imagined competed against him for the easy money to be made from all those poor fools who weren’t tough enough to get after the tall trees swaying dangerously in the wind over their precious homes. It wasn’t easy money of course, and it was a trade more dangerous than most anything short of coal mining.

He’d watch about two cigarettes worth of sun and then wake up who needed waking, call who needed calling or just lose some hours if the mood struck him — the mood turned on a dime. It was quicker than he knew what to do with, so forget him bothering to explain it to any bystander or friend, though he’d try and bring ’em aboard. Didn’t matter what or who they were — the man could reach deep into the storm clouds and find his charm walking tall. He’d take long strides right along with it, right between the raindrops and into hearts. Hooked ’em quick.

And just as quick he’d be gone. Yeah, he was the guy in the big red bucket truck with his name emblazoned down the side: Sonny. You knew his name before you shook his hand most of the time, and it was his real name: Sonny. Like his father, but with the birth certificate to prove it. God may have made a few Sonnys, but only one of these.

He was big and he went big. He carried more in his frame than should have fit. He bought the largest bulk packages in bulk. He’d buy extras in bulk for you, too. Many a motor found its end hauling the way-too-much stuff he dragged out of yards and off sales floors. He refused to wait for Christmas. Instead, he made the entire month of December a string of gifts to everyone in his orbit. He loved money coming in because he loved waving goodbye to it so much more.

He was catching up on a boyhood he somehow missed. Early on, misfortune gave way to more misfortune and the only thing for him to do was laugh in the dark, forge ahead and hope to find the edge of that long night.

Sonny would find a little light wherever he could. He’d look at sports figures and he’d delight in what they’d made with themselves: young and chasing glory in the black and gold of his beloved home state of Pennsylvania, everything possible and the promise of a tomorrow without worry. He saw an exponent for his ideals.

And he was an idealist. It crushed him to think that good was out of reach, that he’d fallen too far along the way and things would never shake out. Often, the walls did close in, his freedom was curtailed, and he ran up against a system that would have none of the wild and improvised howling hell he’d unleash on a world he both loved and hated.

He knew the extremes of being. They got the better of him when he couldn’t separate those extremes from what was most important to him. He wanted all children to have and to be happy and loved, and he got to see that, in part, through the eyes of his own young sons, Mason and Samuel. He wanted to prosper and help others to prosper. He loved nothing more than making it home before noon on those workdays having bested a tree twice his age and big enough to knock over a building. He’d sit back on his stoop, light an American Spirit as the sun hit the high point and faded away behind him, his pockets lined anew with American money in his very own version of an American dream.

When we go, we leave a series of moments and memories in the hearts and minds of those we leave behind. That’s if we’re lucky. Sonny gave us all kinds of moments. We will remember Sonny’s time for all the range and color that is the beauty and tragedy of humanity, and we will hold what could have been near to our hearts — a love in search of our beloved who got away too soon, a heartbeat, perhaps, from redemption.

In addition to his father and mother, Sonny is survived by his stepfather, Joseph Kristyak, and his stepmother, Martha Coulter; his two sons, Mason and Samuel; his two sisters, Janice (Kevin) Hoffmeier and Wendy Booher.

He also leaves behind three brothers, Jack (Carmel) Coulter, James W. Coulter and Joey Kristyak.

He was preceded in death by a brother, Dan Coulter, who passed away May 19, 2018.