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Stories about Pat Hogan Share yours! Share Your Story!

Saturday evening, 5/5/18, we were heading east. We stopped in Kennet, MO to find something to eat. The restaurant had some background music playing. I didn’t pay any attention. Donna and Mallory recognized it as instrumental versions of hymns.

Later, Donna said that my mother did not consider this sosong to be a hymn. I recognized the tune as “Precious Memories.” I agreed, the song is an ode to lost relatives, and has no praise elements, or religious meaning. I wondered why L.O. Sanderson included it in all the hymnals but ignored “Hot August Night.”

I asked if they ever heard Pat’s up-tempo renditin of Precious Memories. They hadn’t and asked me to sing it. Only after we were on the road again, did I I divulge them. They laughed, and ask were the version came from.

I speculatespeculated that it originated on the 2nd floor of Paul Gray Hall, east wing ( under the direction of Kelly B. Doyle).

In my big brother’s honor, I am working on a 4th verse:

Meet George Jetson His boy Elroy Daughter Judy His wife Jane.

More to come.

I grew up in the church and he was always there and then I had my accident a few years ago and every time I would wake up he was there. We prayed and then we laughed for what seemed like hours. When I got the chance to come back to sikeston I would stop by and go get lunch for him and me and we would have such good times. He started calling me his little chuckles.

One 3rd of July, Dad sent Pat to fill up with gas because we were going to Uncle Eugene for the fourth. I went, and so did Lee because he wanted to stop at the fireworks stand. On the way, some boys threw firecrackers at the car. We stopped at the fireworks stand, and then to fill up with gas. This was before filling yourself. We pulled up and let the attendant fill up with gas. Lee came in to light his punk. He then rolled the punk in electric window, while he unraveled firecracker. The attendant got the filled, and the some, before putting hose back in pump. I went inside the station with Pat to sign the paper work. All of a sudden Lee came in and said “the car in on fire”. One of the men who work there called the fire department, but all the rest of men waited. The fire was on the drivers side, so Pat decided to get on the passenger side, opened the door, put it in neutral, and pushed it out of the way. Buy the time the fire department came, all they had to do was put of the fire on the fuel tank.

My mom remembered some jokes he used to tell like–

“Did anyone take a shower?”

Pat: “Why, is there one missing?”

Patrick Hogan was always a breath of fresh air. From the first time I came to visit Emily’s family in college, I realized that unlike my other friend’s families, the Hogans didn’t feel the need to keep me entertained. Instead, they made space for me, and let me find my own place with their family. I felt right at home.

Patrick had an incredible wry sense of humor—and an almost superhuman ability to never take himself, or any situation he was in, too seriously. Somehow this fit right in with my own eccentric upbringing. My family couldn’t have been more different than the Hogan family; and yet I loved the perspective on things that Patrick had, and that he had passed on to Emily and Ryan.

He picked up on the fact that I had a lot of interest in the Bible, and we would chat about all kinds of obscure passages and topics. One time, he called me on the way to a funeral, trying to locate a particular verse he was thinking of. He laughed a lot after that about his son-in-law getting calls from hearses.

Patrick and I were both introverts when it came to expressing emotions, and so most of our conversations were light-hearted. But he had sincere and deep feelings. Once, when he was sitting across from me at the kitchen table, with his voice shaking, he said

I know it’s hard for me to say anything serious…
But I want to thank you for the love you have for my daughter.

I told him I knew I was the one who was fortunate to have her in my life. Then we returned to awkwardly making jokes, and working on our projects.

Patrick always obviously loved his family—and I felt loved as part of his family.

I don’t know whether he would admit it or not, but he also loved life—and like all people who love life, he intensely loved specific things, and specific pastimes, and many, many specific people. And I loved him for that.

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