After my circuit-riding ministry in Montana, I did an “interim ministry” in Kirkland, WA, following this man: The Reverend Patrick O’Neill. (1985-86). When I googled I found him in England! By now he must be retired. But here he is:
Interims are supposed to bind up any wounds, offer handkerchiefs to those grieving, rejoice as appropriate and shake out the bedding if necessary so as to make room for a new start. But this was a happy interim and it was probably more the case that the congregation comforted me than the other way around.
Patrick was an easy guy to be around, a big man (much bigger than in this vid — someone must have put him on a diet) with bright blue eyes and the shadow of an Irish accent, since that was his family background. He’d been the last child in a large family of sisters who cherished and celebrated him. His idea of church was a lot of females in the church kitchen baking up goodies for sales, but also making lunch for everyone and taking turns entertaining the littlest kids. If they got into quarrels, he took the combatants into his office and worked it out as a threesome. It wasn’t often necessary. The men were pleased.
Patrick felt breakfast was an important meal because that’s when one read the newspaper, which in those days was worth the time. He carefully went up and down the columns, even reading the obits. One morning he found the obit of a man who had died at a very old age, but the only accomplishment noted in his eulogy was that as a young man he had been on a softball team that “took state.” The rest of his life was considered unimportant.
Appalled at this, Patrick wrote the man a proper eulogy, though he had to invent a life for him to do it. I don’t remember what he said, but now I remembered that he did this because of Rev. Mark Belletini giving a delayed eulogy for Rev. Mark Mosher DeWolfe via video. (10-22-17) It was live-streamed, but I think it will stay posted. http://www.FirstUnitarianToronto.org/live
Thinking about this at bedtime caused me to dream the following story, so now I’ll try to write it down before I forget it.
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Eddy had a particularly lovely mother but she would not let him sit on her lap even when he was very small. When he toddled over and tried to climb up, she kissed his little hands, smoothed back his hair, and slid him off to sit on the floor and lean on her knees. His father was also kind but not huggy, and bought him a dog that was meant to be a companion. It was a lazy dog with big flaps of ears and a cold nose. It would much rather doze under the kitchen table in hopes of something edible falling on the floor than to go for a walk.
So Eddy walked alone. The family house was in an area just being developed, but slowly because of bad economics. It was second growth with as many kid trails as animal trails. Not many trees were big enough to climb, but those that were got a lot of use.
One day he met a couple of other boys he knew from school. They liked to do the scrap components of softball — playing catch, trying to hit a ball with a bat, and just running. They never developed those things into an actual game with competitive teams. Often Eddy ran alone down the trails through the woods. It was best in fall when the light was yellow and the ground was cushioned with leaves.
In the school year that the kids began to “pass” between specialized classes with their books on their arms, one of the girls took him in hand. She claimed him as hers and from then on he was guided throughout a normal life, meaning uneventful. Then there was the year he was on the softball team that took state. In fact, he was the guy who hit the home run that won the game. That was the high point of his life and he never tried to exceed it. But neither did he ever forget running the bases with everyone cheering.
The economy improved, the area returned to the original development plans, and since Eddy had started a hardware company with his father-in-law’s backing, he did very well. Things unfolded nicely and his wife got a house she loved and maintained beautifully. Once in a while Eddie played in a local softball league, just for fun. He liked the running.
They were careful to have only two children and pleased that one was a girl and one was a boy. The children did very well in life at first, graduating from good colleges. But both of them grew restless as time went on. The girl was married three times before she finally settled. The boy went with the counterculture and played drums in not very famous punk road bands. There were grandchildren and eventually they were listed in the obits by name but no one local knew much about them.
Eddy’s wife died of diabetes. Everyone said it was no wonder because she loved her sweets and grew quite round in middle age. But Eddy stayed slim even after he sold the hardware store for a good profit and moved into a pleasant little apartment, happy to be alone and have things his own way. Except that he had a big old cuddly ginger cat who made certain demands.
When he died, his neighborhood only remembered the year his team took state, but that was more of a distinction than a lot of people around there could boast about. I don’t know what happened to the cat. People put dogs in obits, but I haven’t seen many cats included. Make up your own cat-fate, I guess. I’m going to imagine that it found the last scrap of unbuilt-up woods and waited by the path for a boy to come along so it could follow him home.
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I haven’t kept in touch with the Unitarians around Seattle. I had thought Patrick and his wife were in Boston and was surprised to find the vid made in England. I see that University Unitarian is password protected but I was happy to be able to read that they are building on again.
I see that the opening page features a suggestion to include the church in one’s will, which tells you something about aging congregations. In Valier the Baptist church next door to me is shifting the estate wealth of deceased past members to the future in the form of their own improved building. I’m not sure that will attract new members, but in 1999 when I moved in, there were no children. Now in 2017 there are.
I see that the opening page features a suggestion to include the church in one’s will, which tells you something about aging congregations. In Valier the Baptist church next door to me is shifting the estate wealth of deceased past members to the future in the form of their own improved building. I’m not sure that will attract new members, but in 1999 when I moved in, there were no children. Now in 2017 there are.
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