Memories of Patrick to Treasure

By Steve Schmitz

Patrick and I first met in the fall of 1982, when we were both first-year MBA students at Indiana University. At the time, we were living just down the hall from one another in a large dormitory, and we immediately hit it off. In addition to both being a bit introverted with backgrounds in journalism, we were also pipe smokers---which now seem a bit odd, but he and I used to spend hours in a smoke-filled, cramped dormitory room not discussing our classes, but life: faith, philosophy, and whatever else intrigued us at the moment. As Kathy will attest, some things never change!

During our second year at Indiana, we decided to move off-campus and share an apartment on the second floor of an old house a short walk from the university. While we were both a bit more engaged in school that year, we still made time to catch an occasional home football game or to watch Bobby Knight toss chairs across the basketball court. Patrick is as true a Hoosier fan as you’ll find, his loyalty and patience finally vindicated with the football teams perfect season and national championship last year, which I know meant a great deal to him.

Every Thursday night we’d put the books away, get out our pipes, and watch “Hill Street Blues” together on our small TV in the apartment. For everyone who knows Patrick’s wry sense of humor, you won’t be surprised to know one weekend we made time to go to a Bloomington movie theatre to watch Monty Python’s “The Life of Brian”. To this day, from time to time we still remind one another to “always look on the bright side of life”.

We worked together on the business school journal, something we probably did more for our own amusement than to advance scholarship in any way. So much so, I think we’re both surprised some of our articles didn’t get us tossed out of school! Looking back, we can only guess that some of the faculty must have shared our slightly twisted sense of humor. Somehow we managed to survive the cold Indiana winter in our virtually unheated apartment and our irreverent writing, and graduated ready to assume responsible roles in society.

After graduation, we remained in touch through phone calls and letters, as well as visiting one another from time to time. One memorable trip was when we spent a long weekend on a frozen lake in Minnesota staying in an ice house. I don’t remember our catching anything, but fortunately we brought plenty of food and of course our pipes (which also made good hand-warmers). I’ll never forget the dish Patrick introduced me to that weekend: Vanilla ice cream doused in Chambord raspberry liqueur. I’ll still make that from time to time, and it always reminds me of that time together.

Of course, Patrick’s life changed completely when he met the love of his life, Kathy. Never has the description “soul mate” been more appropriate or accurate. They share a love that is as precious as it is rare; it is a love that has defined them both for a lifetime. Theirs is a union that was forged in eternity and will remain eternal. Their wedding was a wonderful celebration, and I had never seen Patrick so happy.

As happens, eventually life intervened for both of us, and Patrick and l gradually lost touch. Then, one day probably five or six years ago, I was stilling in our local Post Office parking lot and my phone rang. I picked it up, and it was Patrick on the other end. It turned out that he and my wife had somehow crossed paths on Facebook, and she gave him my number. We probably talked for at least an hour, trying to quickly catch up on the preceding decades, but it was as if a time machine had erased those years, and talking with him again was no different than it was in that smoky dorm room years ago. We set up a time to talk again, which we’ve continued to do monthly ever since. We never end a call without telling one another how much the time together means to each of us.

In order to give at least a little structure to our calls, we always like to be reading a book together. As I think a lot of you know, our most recent project was reading Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov”, which I have to say was our most ambitious undertaking (it was Patrick’s idea, not mine!). It took us nearly four months to wade through what some call “the greatest novel ever written”, but on our call just a couple of weeks ago, we finally celebrated our finishing it. We were both almost giddy about having it behind us, and Patrick wisely suggested that we choose something a little shorter and less intense for our next one.

That said, there’s something at the conclusion of that book that I’d like to share. The main character, one of the brothers who is a monk, reveals what gives life meaning, particularly in the face of hardship and tragedy. He said that life’s ultimate meaning is found through love, and most importantly, cherishing our memories of those we love, because it is though these memories that our love will last forever. Patrick and I talked about that conclusion, but now it has a meaning for me that I never expected. I’ll be forever grateful for knowing and loving Patrick, as I recognize him as one of my life’s greatest blessings. His life has been a gift to each of us.