O'Rourke: Smile On My Friend

Today, my friend was called home way too early in life.  He took care of his family and was a loyal friend.  He fought the good fight and he finished the race.  I find comfort today as I close my eyes and recall his good nature and the sound of his laugh.


Alphabetical order placed O’Rourke next to Oxley in freshmen seventh period English.   Pat was a new kid in the Harbor and was fair game for some good natured pranking.   Someone convinced him that there was a swimming pool on the third floor of our seventy year old high school.  Pat went searching for the pool.   He laughed with us when he figured out that he was had.  O’Rourke passed our initiation and he became fast friends with a band of Harbor knuckleheads.
O’Rourke was a kid from a loving family.  He had a strong work ethic and truly enjoyed the clowning nature of his friends.  In keeping with a Harbor tradition,  he quickly earned a nickname. “Patty O” joined the ranks of Ox, Bakes, Wiz, Double D, Ren, and rest of chucklehead gang.
Most stories of a misspent adolescence need to remain in the past protecting the innocence of our children, and the memories of our mothers.   I will keep those stories back in a time before we married our wholesome life affirming wives who made us want to be better men.  However, one PG rated story is just  too good not to share.
Pat was fascinated by a young lady.   She was not as fascinated with him.  Early one school day, O’Rourke was smiling ear to ear as he finds me and says, “Ox!  She wrote me a letter in French.  Can you read it?”  I laughed and most likely said do you honestly think that I pay attention in class.   We were now on a mission.
We spent the rest of day trying to track down someone to read the note.  Word spread quickly and testosterone infused harbor boys were wildly speculating on the content of the note.   Excitement was building as O’Rourke’s smile grew bigger and bigger. 
Like dogs after a bone,  a goofy band of boys were spinning through the school when we spotted a smart young lady that we knew could help us.   We knew she could be the interpreter unlocking the mystery of the note.  She was our last hope.
We encircled her waiting in anticipation.  She started laughing as she translated French into the vernacular of Ashtabula.  The note read, “Dear Pat, The directions for boiling an egg are….”  We burst into laughter.  Pat was laughing the loudest as his face turned as red as a fresh picked apple.  The young lady sent us all on a French wild goose chase and we were had.   O’Rourke wasn’t quite as fascinated with this young lady from this point forward.
It is Pat’s good nature, quick smile, and infectious laugh that I will always remember.   He cared about and loved his family.   He worked hard. He was a true and loyal friend.    I find solace in knowing that I will see my friend again someday.    He is and will always be a part of a special band of Harbor knuckleheads.  Heaven is reverberating with the laughter of Pat O’Rourke.   Pat truly mattered in the lives he touched.

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