John ‘Pat’ Murphy Sr.
In 1970, my family moved from Metuchen, NJ to Buffalo, NY. I soon met and became best friends with a classmate by the name of John Murphy. John’s parents kept him on a very short leash, so I would spend a lot of time at his house. I lived in their popup camper in the backyard for almost my entire16th year. I also had a crush on John’s older sister Helen. (I guess that is just a FYI!)
His father’s name was also John, but most called him Pat. I called him Mr. Murphy. I guess I could have called him Pat, like some of our other friends did, but I never did. His mother’s name is Carol and I call her Ma. They are like my foster parents, and they treated me as if I was one of their own. Each Easter I would make the trip with them visiting Aunts, Uncles and the Grandfather. When they would go camping - I would go too, I guess because they would be taking my home!
What most impressed me about Mr. Murphy was that he was the only adult that treated me like a man when I was a teenager. I appreciated that, especially since he had not quite gotten there yet with his son John - or had my father gotten there with me. We would lift weights together, have a pop (after I was 18) together, and we could sit there and talk for hours. We thought a lot alike.
At 16, I tested for the Air Force (despite my father wanting me to join the Navy as he had done) because Mr. Murphy had been in the Air Force. I entered basic training shortly after turning 17. I wanted (and did) become a truck driver because Mr. Murphy was a truck driver. One of my fondest memories was when he and I drove a tractor-trailer to NYC and back after I returned from the Air Force.
Mr. Murphy died in November of 2000, after a long battle with a heart condition. I was honored to have been asked to be one of his pallbearers (with his other sons) and it is the only funeral I have been to where a tear came to my eye. I was very fortunate that Mr. Murphy and Ma came to visit us the year before.
