Odds & Ends: May the Good Lord love and keep ye, Patrick Oct. 19

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The Irish are known for being able to spin a tale or two and for being full of blarney. That describes Patrick McKelvie; he was full of blarney ... or something like it.

Patrick was proud of his Irish heritage, and once visited the Emerald Isle with his bonny wife Bettye. He even had a shamrock tattoo. But, it was in his gift of gab that the Irish in Patrick truly shined.

While sometimes described as being a bit hard to get to know, the Patrick I knew not only came out of whatever shell he’d been in — he shattered it. He could be loud and boisterous, the life of any gathering. There was no such thing as a quiet dinner with Patrick. There was no quiet anything with Patrick.

We got to know Patrick and Bettye after they moved across the street from Kim’s mom. They’d come here from California, where he’d retired as a meat cutter and she’d worked for a school. Jo, Kim’s mom, met them first, of course, and we got to know them after Amelia broke the ice by taking cookies across to them.

Now, they hadn’t had children, and supposedly Patrick wasn’t fond of youngsters. However, something clicked between them and Amelia. It may have been the cookies, as we were to learn Patrick enjoyed good food. It may have been Amelia’s manners and politeness, something they later told us seemed in short supply among youngsters in California.

Whatever it was, from that moment a friendship was born, first with Amelia, then us. First, it was dinners at Patrick and Bettye’s, where he cooked. Thanks to his career as a meat cutter (Patrick was quick to say he wasn’t a butcher) he knew how to select and grill a steak. He could prepare salads and vegetables, fish and other meats quite well, too. And when you put your feet under Patrick’s dinner table, you’d better be ready to clean you plate, at least twice. There was no way to go away from their home hungry.

Our bond truly was cemented when Kim fixed dinner for them the first time. I don’t recall what it was, but it amazed Bettye and Patrick and after that I think Kim could have prepared baked pine knots and they would have enjoyed them. Kim’s cornbread — and almost any dessert — became two of Patrick’s favorites, along with her cookies and cinnamon rolls. Thanksgiving and other holiday feasts really became celebrations as Patrick and Bettye quickly became part of our family.

Kim was a daughter they’d never had, and Amelia became the granddaughter they loved to spoil. When report cards came in, Amelia showed them to us, then Patrick and Bettye. Patrick loved to harass and tease Amelia, and she’d dish it right back to his delight. It was the same with Amelia’s friends, who may not have known what to make of him at first, and Anala, our own “adopted” granddaughter. She and Patrick developed quite a relationship, with him constantly calling her “Granola” and her giving back. It became a routine between the two of them to hold a thumb and finger in the shape of an “L” on their foreheads to tease one another.

For someone who didn’t like kids, there sure was a lot of love between Patrick and the ones who got to know him. Even at church, he would tease them. He’d lost part of a finger in his work, and it wasn’t unusual for him to look at Amelia or Anala or one of their friends at church, and hold that finger to his nose. Sometimes, it was harder to tell who was the bigger kid.

You never knew what to expect from Patrick. Sometimes it was hard to tell when he was serious and when he was joking. He was one of these folks who can keep a straight face no matter what. Apparently, that was learned from a hard upbringing and early life in Michigan. Occasionally he’d talk about those years, but not often. Patrick didn’t like dredging up the past.

Patrick enjoyed going to church. Every Sunday, he was there. A Catholic who became Protestant, he knew his Bible, and could talk about different passages and their meanings without being argumentative. While he had fun, he did take his beliefs seriously, down to having grace before meals.

Patrick had different health issues on and off, until about a month ago when they started coming home to roost. He went into the hospital, and subsequently underwent various surgeries, received assorted treatment for different problems. Just over a week ago, Patrick, saying he was tired, asked to go to Hospice. Early last Sunday morning, Patrick was at rest.

It’s amazing how much someone can become a part of your life, can become family, as Patrick did. Loud, boisterous, teasing, sometimes curmudgeonly, always interesting, full of life, Patrick was all these and more, and a blessing.

After Patrick passed, I shared an old Irish blessing for him on Facebook, and I share it here with you:

“May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

and rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

Fare thee well, good friend.