My words spoken at Pete Currans Memorial on 5/21 & 5/22 2014 For my Cherished Uncle A beautiful July evening in 1969 with the last rays of hot summer sun leaking through the maples lining the bluff at 300 Scenic Way in Kent, Washington, a horde of kids were embroiled in epic game of kickball. At the time, I believed it was the only one in the history of the world. Later I heard from my brother Tim that these types of games were played often in Spokane with another giant horde of older Curran cousins of uncles: Tom, Jim, Bob and Tony with the same intensity and unlimited sense of adventure that we enjoyed. But at this time, the who’s-who of kick ball at 300 Scenic Way were assembled. Mary aka (Stinky), Betsy aka (Buxy), Marcy known as (Mouthy), Brendan (Buck), Sheila (Stuffy) Maryellen (Hairy Melon) who hailed from the Johnson cousins, Sean from the Tony Curran’s and the ultimate organizer, Colin the oldest male of Pete’s 8 children. Colin had no nickname of course; you see he dealt these names out to each of his siblings. The rules according to Colin, if the ball went on the garage roof, you had to go get it, if it got stuck in a tree, you had to go get it and if you were out you didn’t question it. Colin deemed it so. Pete would have been roughly 36 at this point in life and arrived home up the long winding drive in his Blue Galaxy 500 dubbed by him as “Old Blue”. I honestly thought he’d have that well-loved car the rest of his life he loved it so much. This was another day for him at the Law offices of Curran, Kleweno, Johnson and Curran with briefcase in hand. Pete never one to pass up a game came out and joined us, thankfully Pete had tagged me with the nickname Markey Kent so I avoided an ascribed crushing moniker from Colin. Anyway, Pete stepped into the game and booted the ball not only over the garage but clear into the canyon on the back side of the house. It was the longest kickball shot I’d ever seen! As we marveled at this boot and saw the game slipping away with 45 Curran kids rounding the bases, I realized this was a magical time, it was our Kennedy compound, our Martha’s Vineyard, our Camelot. I tell you all this because Pete & Pat created this Camelot, a place where family memories were made, each one of us ‘billions’ of Curran cousins and grandchildren have their own beautiful memory of a time at 300 Scenic Way. They all weave in and around Pete. Pete instilled an incredible love for family and for the spirit of the game within every Curran. He could have flopped down after a hard day at the office but instead showed us that these magic moments were priceless but more importantly, that chores must often precede the game. Later in life Pete along with his beloved brother Jim, my dad, would create the first of many Curran family reunions. Pete’s vision put in place a family tradition that we Curran’s steadfastly carry on today. What a blast we’ve all had over the years at these reunions. Pete you brought Camelot to the entire 8 billion Curran offspring. That is a legacy that cannot die. Many in our family have said that Pete had the personality of his Mother Helen Curran. I believe this to be true, always accepting of people, with a great wit and a laugh like no other. Could anybody laugh better than Pete Curran? …Maybe Pat! His ability to put anyone at ease through humor came from his mother Helen Curran and like all his brothers and sisters, he adored her. She was an amazing lady. Pete being the youngest of 9 children had a character of a father in Frank Curran. Frank was a man who could tell a great embellished story! But it wasn’t until later in life that Frank blossomed a bit with his personality, no doubt he was a hard man with his oldest kids. But fortunately for Pete and all of us, Frank flowed with wit and hilarious sarcasm during Pete’s formative years. His parents Frank and Helen truly created a masterpiece that will forever be Pete Curran, their youngest child. So, When I see my straw sun hat on a shelf, I’ll see Pete on a beach in Mexico with a Corona in hand. When I look out into my yard and dig in the dirt, I’ll see Pete and his beloved tomato plants and flower pots In a comfortable old pub, I’ll see Pete laughing, loving it, with a Jamison in hand. Driving a very old much appreciated truck, barely running, I’ll sense Pete and my Dad right there with me. In a game where ever whenever with the nagging question am I too old to play? Pete will be there competing. You’re never too old. If I judge another, Pete would accept that same person for their faults… unless they took themselves too seriously, that was one thing he could not stand. If a volunteer opportunity comes my way, Pete will push my impulse to give something back. When an embellished story needs to be told, I’ll draw inspiration from Pete. And most importantly I’ll never have a bad lie in golf again, Pete will be imploring me “Kick that ball outta there you knot-head! No one can hit from behind a bush” …but Uncle Pete? !!!! Markey Kent! Forget the rules! We’ll miss you Pete, You’ll live forever in our good memories and that is the true meaning of family. We’ll miss you Pete, You’ll live forever in our good memories and that is the true meaning of family.
Posted on: Fri, 23 May 2014 21:32:52 +0000
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