Clint Childs
I am profoundly sad to share that my brother, Clint Childs, passed away on Oct. 19, 2024, at his home.
If you grew up in Newbury Township in the late 1970s you probably remember Clint. He was a wild character. He talked too much, drove too fast, drank too much and got into some crazy fights. At lunchtime in high school, he played Kill the Guy with the Ball, even though he was skinnier than most of the other guys. His nickname was Chicken Chest. But what he lacked in size, he made up for in speed and determination. As he used to say, “I don’t let any grass grow under my feet.”
He liked fashionable clothes back then, which pretty much meant polyester patterned shirts and matching pants, solid color, of course. He was even voted Best Dressed in high school.
He liked the ladies, and they liked him. He was a charmer with a twinkle in his eye, a smooth line of bullshit and the guts to go after anyone. He probably broke a few hearts, and I know which ones broke his.
He was funny and obscenely profane. In fact, he would make a sailor blush. And it didn’t matter in whose company he was, he let fly with the language because he was damned if he would let anybody rein him in. Somehow, he got away with it. Abundant charm and a good heart helped, no doubt.
I was two years younger than Clint, which meant that I got to go to rock concerts with my older brother. We went to a lot of them. We shared a love for music, and every time I hear a song by the Cars, Toto, or Kiss, I think of the times we drove to the Coliseum, blizzard or not, to see the bands we loved.
When I was in college in Boston, Clint would come pick me up for the summer. He’d arrive a few days before the end of the semester and party with my friends and me. They loved him as much as I did.
When I needed him to defend me, or help me move, or was sick, he was there for me, no questions asked. He might tell me I was a dumbass for getting involved with this or that guy, but he came to save me.
Clint loved the Cleveland Browns, the Guardians, the Buckeyes, playing golf, going to Chautauqua Lake and puttering in his workshop. He also loved horror movies and movies about World War II.
Clinton Walter Childs was born on Jan. 22, 1958, in Berea, Ohio. He grew up surrounded by two parents who loved each other and his three brothers and two sisters. It was an amazing childhood in that special place, Newbury.
Clint has two daughters who meant more to him than life itself. His pride in Brittany and Macayla was exceeded only by his love for them. He also has a granddaughter, Abigail, who he never got to meet in person.
Clint was married twice. And even though he and Jacci got divorced a couple years ago, he never stopped loving her. And she, knowing firsthand how cantankerous and stubborn and impossible he could be, stepped in to take care of him when his diabetes started stealing his health. We are forever grateful to Jacci for her care of our beloved brother.
Clint lived his life his way. He’s with our parents, brother Craig, nephew Jacob and the rest of the Childs and McCoy families now. Godspeed, beloved brother. We’ll see you on the other side.
A Celebration of Life will be held on Saturday, Nov. 30, 2024, from 4-7 p.m. at Zeppe’s Tavern & Pizzeria, 11110 Kinsman Road, Newbury.
The obituary has been beautifully written by his sister Lori O’Neill.
Arrangements have been entrusted to Burr Funeral Home in Chardon. Information and condolences online at www.burrservice.com.
