James "Sunny" Sundquist

James "Sunny" Sundquist

James "Sunny" Sundquist died peacefully after a brief illness on March 5, surrounded by his wife and children. He was 74. He spent most of his life in Chicago and Southern Illinois before retiring to New Jersey to be closer to family.

A loving, husband, father and grandfather, Sunny fought for peace and justice his entire life and bettered his community as a social worker serving adults diagnosed with schizophrenia. He was a talented cook, musician and storyteller, using his gifts to deepen connections with others. His love of Ann Callahan, his wife of four decades, as well as his three children, seven grandchildren and anyone lucky enough to call him a friend, knew no bounds. Nor did his compassion, sense of humor, soulfulness, generosity, kindness and patience for those he encountered.

Born in Chicago, Sunny, as he was affectionately and appropriately known throughout his life, grew up in the Edgewater neighborhood and spent summers at Bethany Beach in Sawyer, MI. He was raised the youngest of four boys in a loving, Swedish-American family.

Sunny developed an enduring passion for music at an early age, dating back to Sunday School at Edgewater Baptist Church and the Bethany Beach Tabernacle. At Von Steuben High School, the choir director, also a cantor in a local synagogue, encouraged him to join. "He took me under his wing," Sunny later wrote in a memory book for his family. "He knew a lost soul when he saw one." In his senior year, Sunny won the lead role in an operetta, earning a standing ovation and newfound respect. He also explored gospel and blues in the churches and clubs of Chicago's South Side, broadening his horizons.

After graduating high school, Sunny attended Southern Illinois University (SIU) in Carbondale, IL. It was an act of practical rebellion: the school was the farthest from his childhood home yet still an in-state school. There he became active in the effort to oppose the Vietnam War. He was among 100,000 anti-war protesters at the March on the Pentagon in October 1967. In one of the most famous acts of American political theater, the demonstrators tried to "levitate" the building to exorcise its demons.

From 1968 to 1976 Sunny lived on a 500-acre former quail farm that many referred to as "The Bird Farm." He was joined by other young, idealistic activists, as well as musicians including the Rocky Comfort Band, Rock Bottom, and Earthshine. The collective also produced a periodical called the Big Muddy Gazette, which covered protest movements, cultural events and literature.

During that period his love of music blossomed further. In the late 1960s, he paid a friend $50 for a Gibson acoustic guitar that he would treasure for the rest of his life. "Let me tell you, this is some guitar," he wrote more than 50-years later. "It plays like butter, it's warm and organic and rings sweetly." He used it to participate in jam sessions on The Bird Farm, a tradition he'd also carry on later in life. "Make a joyful noise," he liked to say.

Sunny was passionate about live music and often spoke of the many seminal performances he had seen over the years, including the 1965 tour when Bob Dylan went electric. Though the list is far too long to catalogue, others he saw live included The Band, jazz great Charles Mingus, blues legend Muddy Waters, guitarist Doc Watson, and folk musicians Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, who had played with Woody Guthrie, another of his heroes. Sunny also had a stint as the road manager for Coal Kitchen, a band based in Southern Illinois.

In the 1980s, Sunny returned to SIU. "I started this project in 1966 and completed it 16-years later," he wrote. "You might say I was a gradual student." He studied social work, tapping his gift as a world-class listener with a deep well of empathy.

Sunny always had an affinity for the most vulnerable in society and a career in social work also appealed to his love of and commitment to community. John Steinbeck's "The Grapes of Wrath" was a favorite novel and a big influence on him. He recalled one quote from the book that struck a chord: "When they're all working together, not one fella for another fella, but one fella kind of harnessed to the whole shebang – that's holy."

After earning his degree, Sunny took his skills to Jackson County Mental Health, later called Southern Illinois Regional Social Services. He served people diagnosed with schizophrenia with grace, understanding and care for 30-years. He helped to found Care House, a drop-in center, food pantry and thrift store that offered warm, comfortable shelter for people living with persistent and severe mental illness, those usually ignored by society.

Sunny remained politically conscious. At one point during his career, his employer tried to force its workers to sign a loyalty oath modeled on civil defense legislation from the McCarthy era. They were required to pledge they had never been a part of any "subversive" political organization. Sunny led a charge to resist and stood firm even amid the threat of losing his job. Eventually, the employer backed down and none of its workers had to sign the oath. Even in his retirement, Sunny continued to participate in grassroots efforts and rallies to protest against Trump Administration policies and support the Black Lives Matter movement.

In 1980, he met Ann Callahan, a nurse from Indianapolis, who had also settled in Southern Illinois. They were kindred spirits and soon fell in love. At parties they regaled friends with magic tricks, with Sunny setting the stage by telling the crew "my wife and I are so close we have developed a kind of telepathy." They married in 1982. When asked his greatest achievement in life, Sunny wrote: "That's pretty obvious to everyone. Falling in love with Ann and creating a wonderful home and family."

Sunny and Ann established a home in Makanda, IL, on the edge of the Shawnee National Forest. They enjoyed weekends playing volleyball and music with friends and family. Their place was close to Giant City State Park, where Sunny, a lover of nature, had adventures as a young man and would later hike with his children and grandchildren. They raised their kids in Makanda and called it home for 35-years.

Sunny was an avid reader. He believed in Santa Claus, loved dogs and was an enthusiastic player of board games, especially Scrabble. He loved to tell jokes and play pranks on friends. He enjoyed travelling with his family including visits to Hawaii, Sweden, Spain and Ireland. He was known as a talented cook whose many specialties ranged from raisin bread to Swedish pancakes, to pulled pork.

Sunny settled especially comfortably into his role as a grandfather. His eldest grandchild dubbed him "Biba" Sunny and the nickname stuck for the last 15-years of his life. He began to wear overalls, usually with his trusty harmonica tucked into his chest pocket. He also grew a long, flowing white beard and delighted in being mistaken for Old St. Nick. In 2015, Sunny and Ann moved to Springfield, NJ, to be closer to their children and grandchildren in New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania.

"I'm a lucky man indeed," he wrote recently. "Three of the greatest children anyone could ask for and seven of the coolest grandchildren anywhere. I mean, everything is peaches, but the cream."

He was predeceased by his parents, Arthur and Norma; as well as his brothers: John and Ralph.

He is survived by his wife of 39-years, Ann Callahan of Springfield, NJ; his son, Christian Brook Sundquist, of Pittsburgh, who is married to Erica Tryon; his daughter, Claire Sundquist, of Perkiomenville, PA, who is married to Brandon Stauffer; and his daughter, Kate Coscarelli, of Springfield, NJ, who is married to Jeff Whelan. He was a proud grandfather to seven grandchildren: Maybeline and Talulah Whelan; Solveig and Julius Sundquist; and Boden, Hazel and Josephine Stauffer. He is also survived by a brother, Robert and his wife, Bonnie, both of Comstock, WI.

A celebration of life will be held in the coming months. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that those who wish to express sympathy consider making a donation to the National Alliance on Mental Illness.