By Darlene (Bun) McManus

June 2011

 

I never knew my father very well. I knew he was a hard worker and loyal to his family, but he was an Irishman and didn’t talk much to his three girls. Dad had many jobs on the Northern Pacific Railway and was away from home most of the time. I really didn’t come to know Dad until Pat entered the picture. Pat and Dad got along famously. Dad would tell Pat about his childhood, experiences railroading, and teach Pat all sorts of things about carpentry, electrical work, etc.

 

Once we went mushrooming with Mom and Dad looking for chanterelles - a mushroom Pat was not familiar with. Dad and Pat separated from the rest of us and were soon lost. Pat, thinking ahead, had brought a compass, but Dad would not believe it pointed north. “That can’t be correct, it must be broken,” he said, and led Pat off away from where the compass was telling them to go. They finally found our car again by way of Canada, or so it seemed to Pat.

 

Another time we were camping in the rain forest of the Olympic National Forest. It wa a miserable time, raining day and night. While Grandma, the girls and I went off to bed in the tent, Dad and Pat stayed up telling stories around the campfire. It was quite late, and they had drank quite a bit. A raccoon walked through where Pat and Dad were sitting. Sometime later, Dad said, “Did you see that coyote walk by here?”

 

Pat said, “That wasn’t a coyote, it was a raccoon!”

 

Dad said, “I was raised in Montana, and I know a coyote when I see one.”

 

I guess when you are drinking 150-proof rum, you can see almost anything! Pat purchased the rum for backpacking and was happy to get rid of it. And Dad, of course, was happy to help him out.

 

I treasure these stories and am thankful to Pat for helping me to know more about my dad.

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McManus Recipe of the Month: Whenever Dad brought home fish to cook up, Mom made Rice O'Brien to serve with it.

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