Andrew John Eastwick II

Andrew John Eastwick II, 65, of North Charleston, passed away on Friday, July 7th. His Wife, Lori, and two sons, Andrew and Fraser, survive him. I’d like to welcome you all to Dad’s memorial page on behalf of our family. My father was uniquely Drew Eastwick, as I’m sure you all know from the times you had with him. In our house he was all about the present and not the past, so it goes without saying that when I sat down to start writing about his early life I thought “well I have no idea.” The truth of the matter is that Dad lived through the people he came to know as friends and acquaintances, his presence being compassionate, often loud, and fiercely loyal. Fraser and I thought on it for a second, realizing that it is far more of a fitting memorial to him for his life to be presented through his experiences with the many people who knew him. So please, leave a message below. I’ll record them all and we’ll have them on hand at his memorial next month. My (Andrew) recollection of Dad is in a larger than life, Paul Bunyan style. There was the story of him saving the town of Newark from a runaway train while he worked for Conrail. Also the story of driving up a dirt road somewhere in Rockland County with a deputy while working for social services, fearing for their lives and fleeing the scene after freeing a stuck patrol car. I remember a certain altercation at Shea over a parking spot, vividly. There’s also a signed ball in the guest room here at the family house, which appears to be the ‘86 Mets. I also remember a tremendously strong man who, with me under the age of 10 (statute of limitations expired), put me at the helm of a Kubota Skidder. He also employed me as a wall builder and machine operator for his business “Rocks In My Head: Rock Wall Installations.” He later employed me formally as a pizza cook/kitchen-manager-in-training at the legendary Shorty’s on Highway 41 in Cainhoy. That’s where I met a lot of you. Speaking of entrepreneurial endeavors, he owned the also legendary Eastwick’s Bar in Nyack, NY. The legacy of which lives on in the mountain of 45’s that we’ve finally started to sort through, the pictures on the wall and on the desktop of his computer, and the t-shirts which pop up in odd places. My point is this: as a kid, my dad was a superhero. As an adult, he is a model of a man who lived to bring joy to people’s lives. He will be terribly missed, not the least of which by me. Though despite that loss, I take solace in the fact that all of you made his life tremendous, and his memory will live on for a very long time in our hearts. Here’s to a glorious life.