My friend Patrick T. Curran passed away last Thursday, 12 August, 2010. His obituary in the Pioneer Press did little to describe a man who cared for his family, his friends, and his God. He loved baseball, his home town of Saint Paul, Minnesota, and Dairy Queen cones.
It was my privilege, for about five years, to pick him up on Friday evenings and spend a little time with him. When he turned eighty, he decided that since he couldn’t change his own tire, that he would stop driving.
He liked coming to my son’s baseball games, and listening on the radio to the Twins was a treat he loved.
If he didn’t answer his phone, it was usually because he had had another little bout with pneumonia, and I could generally find him checked into the VA or United hospital. I’d go visit and he’d say, “Just a little setback, I’ll be out of here soon. When he’d have to check into a nursing home because he was too weak he’d say, “I hope to get out of here right away, I hate this place.”
We will miss you Pat.
Sorry to hear, Jonathan.