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Sunday, August 5, 2007
A life ends just as a fresh start is in the offing
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He wasn’t always estranged from family. Back in the day, Craig A. Molnar baby-sat his two nieces. He took care of his sick mother till she died in 1998. And when he worked for a carnival in Dearborn, Mich., he treated relatives.
“He was a fun and cool uncle,” said niece Angela Sandau of Deerborn. Molnar collected and traded comic books as a kid. He loved rock ‘n’ roll. He enjoyed working with his hands, and dabbled in construction and other jobs after he quit school in the 11th grade. He and his mother suffered from asthma and other lung-related diseases. He lived with her in a Michigan apartment where he was the maintenance man. She suffered an agonizing death at the age of 73. Molnar, apparently, never got over it.
“When she passed away, he became distant and, I think, a little depressed,” Sandau wrote in an e-mail. “When someone that meaningful leaves you, sometimes you don’t know how to react.
For relief, relatives said Molnar abused drink and drugs.
“He was on a merry-go-round,” said Pam Gran, 48, the oldest of three Molnar siblings and a resident of Redondo Beach, Calif.
About 10 years ago, the 30-something Molnar joined the traveling carnival circuit. He stayed in touch with his sisters, though. Gran moved to California in the mid-1990s; Peggy Ktokiewicz, 42, still lives in Deerborn. Molnar would check in via telephone, make sure they had his address.
“He was doing a pretty good job in the circus,” Gran told me in a telephone interview. “But when you have a bad addiction, money can bring you down.”
About a year ago, the calls ceased. Relatives speculate that Molnar probably stopped communicating because he was ashamed of what he’d become —- a homeless addict. They also think he may not have wanted the family to see him suffer like his mother had.
The last time the sisters heard anything was in January via a local social worker. They learned that their brother was in the hospital, critically ill, and that he’d been living in woods in and around Lawrenceville. He was close to death.
Ktokiewicz made plans to pay a visit. Molnar, for whatever reasons, checked himself out of the hospital. It marked the last time they ever heard anything from or about him.
Until Monday.
For the past several months, Molnar had lived in the Villa Inn Lodge & Suites, an extended-stay hotel in Lawrenceville. Initially, the Lawrenceville Cooperative Ministry paid for his room, as well as a dozen or so medications to treat his lung illness. His became a regular face at the nonprofit ministry, and not to receive aid. He attended church and performed odd jobs. He was sober, too.
Linda Freund, the nonprofit’s director, helped Molnar get his Social Security card and file for disability pay. The first check arrived in June, with back pay. He opened a checking account and paid advance rent for his room. When we talked, he was cheerful.
Last week, though, Gran got the dreadful call. Molnar, 46, had been found dead in his hotel bed. Authorities have not released the cause of death.
His wallet contained a tattered piece of paper with a name and address. Pam Molnar. Freund, thanks to the Internet, tracked her down.
Today, a memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. in pavilion No. 3 of Rhodes Jordan Park in Lawrenceville. Relatives from Michigan —- Molnar’s sister Ktokiewicz and two nieces —- were to drive down Friday. They’re bringing photos of Molnar when he was a baby and young man.
Freund told me that a homeless man suggested the location for the memorial. The park abuts woods that Molnar used to sleep in.
And where many friends may still reside. Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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