THE MEASURE OF A MAN

John Pat Ford 1964

Another anniversary is behind me.  I celebrated the life (he would have been 71 this year) and the loss (it has been 5 years) of Pat.  It is such a bittersweet time.  His birthday so close to his passing, but so consistent with the dynamics of this family.  The matriarch, Muddy (Lucy Shontz grandmother), was born St. Patrick’s day and his father passed on March 19th.  March shows us that both life and death are the natural order of things and provides a roadmap to how to live the day.  

My week was spent in bed with the latest virus that is floating around.  A time for forced reflection and bad tv.  TV is filled with revelations of President Trump’s tweets and announcements.  One of which has been his accusation that President Obama had his phone tapped, which by every account has been debunked…by everyone but Donald Trump.  Every time a new source debunks Trump's statement of bugging Trump changes who helped President Obama, with the latest being the British government.  This morning I woke up to hear pleading from both the Republican and Democrat congressmen asking for Trump to step back and apologize for his statements.  We wait.

But it hit me when I heard someone ask, “What kind of man won’t say he is sorry?”, and my thoughts immediately went to Pat, who taught me the real measure of a man.

Let me begin by saying no one is perfect.  We all have our flaws of character, but Pat, by my account, was the most balanced of men I have ever met.  My biggest example of this is if when he came home from work and the kids blasted him with requests, he would often react by shouting  "No…No…No."  Mainly because all he had in his mind at that moment was just coming home and resting for a bit and the thought of doing anything was a big no.  But after some time, he would give it some thought and return to them with an apology and tell them he had rethought his reaction and most often would change his mind.  They needed to learn how to approach him, and he showed them the warm, loving side of being human.

Pat, Lucyann and Michael

One day when Damian sat in church, he phoned me after to tell me that his pastor had given a sermon that reminded him of how he never heard his Dad turn an angry word toward anyone, even if one deserved it and how remarkable that was to him.  

Pat demonstrated time and again with my own parents, who by any measure caused their share of pain and discomfort in life to those around them, especially us kids, yet, never in all the years did Pat, in any measure treat them in any fashion but respectfully.  In the end, when my father moved in with us, and I watched Pat change my Dad’s diaper as he had his fist clenched in defiance toward Pat, I was touched by the warm tenderness in the way he cared for my Dad.  I asked him once how he could do that after all that had happened over the years.  His two-word answer, “He’s family.”  

Pat with family always brought a smile!

That was the bottom line for Pat.  Family, was family.  He once said that the only way he could pay back the love he received through his very selfish teen years, was to give that kind of love back to the family that surrounded him today.  

Anyone who knew him in life, saw first hand that no one crossed his path that was not touched by his kindness or caring.  Anyone in need was offered a helping hand.  Just ask someone who found a temporary bed with us.  No one who came to our home ever left without a hug and a kiss, while he waited outside the door as they drove away with a wave and a smile.  I never saw him close a door to anyone until they were gone and out of sight.  The memory of Pat and how he lived, will always remain for me, an example for the true measure of a man.