As long as I can remember my Uncle Pat has been in my life. I remember how exciting it was when he came to visit us. One time he wore a beret that I thought was so cool. When Uncle Pat and Aunt Marti got married I remember sitting by mom in a pew close to the front so we could watch my dad and little sister, Kim, participate in the wedding. I remember how beautiful Aunt Marti’s wedding was with all of the golden bridesmaids and flower girls!

I am very thankful that over the years Uncle Pat and Aunt Marti have been in my family’s life! I always loved to hear stories about their pride and joy—Katrina and Julie. My husband and I also liked to hear about their travels,especially Uncle Pat’s scuba diving adventures. He encouraged us to take scuba diving lessons, which we really enjoyed.

Uncle Pat encouraged our Verfurth family to get involved with the Billings Historical Memorial. It was fun working on the project with him. I am also very happy that our Verfurth family got together about 2 years ago at our home so we were able to take some precious photos of family members. I love you Uncle Pat and Aunt Mari and will remember you forever.

Bill dictated these special Memories about growing up with his little brother Pat:

Pat received his name because he was born on St. Patrick’s Day. Our dad called Pat “Jay Bird” because he “squawked like a jay bird.”

Most of Bill’s memories of growing up with Bob and Pat revolved around their family’s life on a farm about 1 ½ miles from the town of Billings:

We had a big police dog named Wolf. (Photo with wolf taken down the lane by their home) He was so big that his front paws could reach the top of a six foot ladder!We also had a pony, named Pony. Our grandpa, August, built us kids a pony cart so we could ride to school in style. But many times Pony did not cooperate, so we mostly walked to school. (photo) One time when Bob and Virginia were riding in the cart they had to both jump out before it crashed.

We had a goat that would run around our field with Wolf and Pony.The goat would climb up on everything. One time it climbed up on our dad’s new car. Then suddenly the goat disappeared and we had lots of cooked “rabbit meat” for supper.

Bob, Pat, and I had fun floating on our pond in “our boat” which was made from cutting a metal barrel in half. Dad would take us on a summer vacation when business was slow at the hardware store. One time we rented a cabin down by a river near Forsyth and close to a big bridge. (photo)

Bill also remembered when they moved into a two-story house in town. He chuckled and said that one time all three of us boys got the mumps and we were locked upstairs.

The Verfurth boys had lots of cousins and friends from church to play with growing up in Billings until they went their separate ways into the armed forces: Bob to the Air Force, Bill into the Navy, and Pat into the Army.

My big brother Pat always watched out for me, his baby sister Mary Ellen. He, along with my other big brothers Bob and Bill, were quite a team. They kept a close eye on me and their other younger sister Virginia. Of course, there was the occasional teasing about the girls being spoiled, which had some truth to it! Like when the boys had to ride in the back of the pickup on cold days to go to town and the girls got to ride in the warm cab with the folks.

Affectionately nicknamed "Jaybird" by our dad, for his gift of the gab, Pat could talk his sisters into helping him and his brothers. Virginia and I would wash and clean the family car for 25 cents each so the boys could go on dates.

Pat was a good swimmer all through his life, a skill he acquired from going to the Boy Scout pool in Billings, Missouri or various lakes in the area. Our folks would let us girls walk the 3 miles to the pool. We would pick up a cousin along the way or our friend Martha Ann Netzer. Little did I know that this good friend Marti would later become my sister-in-law!

I have many good memories of growing up on our family farm. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were happy and well cared for. We enjoyed being together, especially at Christmas time. Our dad would let us pick out a toy from his hardware store for our gift. One year, the boys got an electric train set. I couldn’t quite figure out how Santa thought those boys were that good!

My brother Pat was a good man. He was smart, kind, patient, fun-loving, a good conversationalist, a wonderful family man, and a great brother. God bless you, Jaybird.

Mary Ellen Verfurth Hillhouse (aka Bug Bite)

Patrick, or Baba as I called him, is the best and most caring grandpa you could ever have. From as far back as I could remember when I used to go to Las Vegas to visit, he would always take me for a ride around the neighborhood in the golf cart. Also we’d go to the golf course to putt or hit on the driving range since I used to always bring my golf clubs, as long as they fit in the suitcase.

When I got older, I started to steer the golf cart up to the driving range and use clubs that he provided. Then when I was like 10, 11 or twelve I got to drive the golf cart - the steering and gas and brake and everything! I took my cousins, parents, and grandparents, but mostly just baba, for rides around the neighborhood.

Then around the same age his favorite sport, college football, and favorite team Notre Dame became my second favorite team after the Oregon Ducks. We talked a lot about sports all the way up to when he died. We always made sure each other knew all the scores every Saturday. I also remember when I was age 4 to 14 he used to play football with me. Whether he was in the house downstairs or in the backyard just sitting in his lawn chair, he always was ready for a catch.

When we got Nellie our dog he always said she would never go in his house. One day we drove up to visit with Nellie. And that day Nellie, or “the old hound dog” which is what Baba always called her, made history as the first and only dog that ever got to live and be in Baba’s house!

Baba was the best grandpa ever!

As told to Kim Verfurth Graham by Pat for the "Verfurth Family History" website

Pat told me, "Your grandmother named me Patrick because I was born on March17!!!  The year was 1933.  The H. in my name stands for Herman.  Herman and Theresa Schatz were my godparents. At least that is where I think the H. comes from.  If I had been a girl my name would have been Patricia Theresa."

Pat and his wife, Martha knew each other as children, both raised in the Catholic faith.  Martha (Marti) went away to St. Scholastica for four years.  Pat went away to Subiaco for four years.

After graduating from Subiaco and then attending two years at SMS, Pat was drafted into the army. After being discharged, Pat worked in Seattle for Boeing. Then he quit Boeing and went to a college in Mexico City for a year. Pat said, "The school was a regular college like here in the US.  During the winter term there was an exchange program with schools in the US.  I took Spanish of course, most of the other classes were math, science, engineering.  I continued those studies when I returned to SMS and when I decided to graduate I checked with the registrar and had enough hours for a major in math and a major in business admin. I graduated with a major in Math (although I sometimes say I graduated with a double major).

Pat added, "I finally made it back to Billings after having been gone for approximately five years. I intended to stop by Billings on my way back to Mexico City and spend Christmas with my folks which I had not done for a while. Actually I was coming from Orange County California.  I had left Seattle a few months earlier and had goe back to Mexico City and stayed only a few days and then returned to the States, but only to Southern California where I lived with Aunt Virginia and Uncle Chuck for awhile.  I got a job working the graveyard shift. Virginia and Chuck put up with me and I owe them big time. I never made it back to Mexico City, but ended up spending a couple of years in Billings while attending SMS full time and upon graduating in June of 1961 was living and working in Birmingham, Alabama before the month was out."

Marti and I lived in Birmingham for three years.  I worked in a place called the Birmingham Procurement District.  We bought hardware and supplies for the Army by soliciting bids and proposals and awarding contracts that resulted from the solicitations.  My title was Contract Negotiator.  After three years there was a major reorganization and I had a choice of moving to Atlanta and administering  the contracts after they were awarded, or to move to Huntsville, Alabama to continue negotiating  and  awarding  contracts for the Army Missile Command.  We lived in Huntsville for four years .  After the time in Huntsville we moved to Ogden (Roy) Utah.  I stayed in the procurement field (My title was Procurement Center Representative.) working with the Air Force for 21 years and then retired.

Grandpa – or “Grandpo” as I often called him – was truly one of the most important people in my life. He was good at everything he did: a good father, a good husband, a good friend. Above all, however, he was an amazing grandparent, the best kind there is. To me and to the people around him, he was a constant source of love and support.

Many of my earliest memories of Grandpa involve me calling him and Grandma on our corded wall phone in the kitchen to tell them jokes. Grandpa would patiently listen to me repeatedly tell the “why did the chicken cross the road?” joke several times over the course of a single phone call. At the end, he always laughed – “har-har-har” –  and would ask to hear another joke.

Other memories of him involve camping trips and visits to my grandparents’ home in Las Vegas. I recall one time he accompanied my sister, dad, and I on a trip to the Grand Canyon. While Shannon and my dad took a day trip to ride mules down to the bottom of the canyon, Grandpa stayed back at the campsite with me because I was too young to go. We spent the whole day together swimming and picking out pretty polished rocks at the gift store. Although I was only 4 at the time, that day is still one of my favorite memories of him.

There were several times when we would come for a visit and Grandma would be working in LA, so we would get a chance to spend one-on-one time with Grandpa. There were ups and downs to this arrangement. He once made us breakfast and accidentally sprinkled a copious amount of black pepper on Kevin’s toast instead of cinnamon sugar. Kevin took one bite and spit it out, refusing to eat anymore. So, Grandpa finished off the toast for him because “it was still good that way.”

Despite the pepper incident, visits with Grandpa were very fun. He would often take my siblings and I to the Las Vegas Children’s Museum for an afternoon (which was always a blast) and then treat us to ice cream. I have several memories of him teaching me how to drive – well before the age of 16 –  on his golf cart. After dinner, he would take us for a ‘spin around the neighborhood’ and let one of us steer while he controlled the gas pedal. If we ever got pulled over by the neighborhood police (which happened on quite a few occasions), he would smoothly talk his way out of a ticket by arguing that he technically still had control of the vehicle. I don’t think they were big fans of Grandpa, but we luckily never got into any serious trouble.

Throughout my life, Grandpa always took an interest in my school. He encouraged hard work and expressed pride every time I told him I got an A on a test or in a class. He would often reward me by slipping me a $20 bill and saying it was for “coke money.” As I got older and started college, he continued to regularly follow up with my progress. He was so proud when he heard that I had received a full-ride scholarship for my final three years of college, and even offered to “buy me a beer” the next time he saw me as a way of saying congratulations. Since I go to Villanova University, where basketball is a huge sport, he also took an active interest in the team’s games. Last year, when Villanova was doing well in the NCAA March Madness Tournament, he texted me to find out what the Villanova school colors were because he wanted to wear them to church the morning in support of the team. After the mass was over, he texted me again to tell me that several people had come up to him and said, “Go Villanova!”

Watching Villanova Basketball was one of many things we enjoyed doing together. Grandpa and I had several other interests in common, once of which was swimming. I originally became interested in lap swimming and later went on to join my high school swim team because of Grandpa. I think I was just so impressed by the fact that he would swim up to a mile and a half every morning at the club pool, and I wanted to be more like him. He also loved to scuba dive, which was something I always thought was so cool. I loved listening to him talk about his diving trips and looking at the underwater pictures he took. A few years ago, he encouraged my siblings and I to get scuba-certified and took us on diving trips to Bonaire. These trips were always a blast and many fun memories were made on them.

Scuba diving wasn’t the only thing Grandpa introduced me to. Much to my mom’s dismay, he also introduced me to coffee when I was a sophomore in high school. Grandpa taught me that the best coffee is consumed without any sugar or cream. It was always such a comfortable, familiar feeling to wake up in the morning at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Grandpa would stand at the end of the kitchen island, grinding up the coffee beans and pouring hot water over them. He would then pour me, Grandma, and himself three heaping cups in what he called the ‘fancy mugs.’

In addition to coffee, Grandpa made some of the best chili I’ve ever had. He would put together all the ingredients in the morning and let it stew over a low flame all day. At dinner time, he would dish everyone out a bowl. Each time, it would taste a little different, sometimes spicy, sometimes not at all. No matter the spice level, however, it was always delicious and was considered a necessary staple during visits. I was lucky to have some Grandpa’s chili during my past visit to Las Vegas over Thanksgiving.

In general, Grandpa was a big goof with a big heart. He loved telling jokes and having a good laugh, but he was also one of the kindest and most supportive people I’ve ever known. Many times since his passing, people have approached me to tell me how they only met him once or twice, but that he was so friendly to them and had made them laugh. Comments like these remind me how lucky I am to have had him in my life. I am the person I am today, in large part, due to him.

I remember Pat when we were just little girls. He was always so interested in us, even before he had you girls.  He was always kidding us, but we somehow felt that we were loved and that we were important (not just kids). We have a video of him coming over at Christmas when he came back from the service, I think. It shows him sitting down with us and seeing what we got for Christmas. He was my favorite Uncle, even though I barely spoke to him because I was so shy.  He always called me Kim Bowser. I don’t know if he just called me that, or if he called everyone that! LOL"

It's always very difficult to put into words what a person meant to you, especially when they meant a lot to you. This is surely the case with my beloved Uncle Pat. He meant so much to me. I loved being named after him. I never got tired of hearing the story of my dad - who tragically died when I was 4 years old - calling him and saying to Uncle Pat, "Well, we got a boy here. What should I name him?", to which Uncle Pat answered, "What do you think of Patrick? I think it's worked well for me!". I would usually remind him that could've been a little bit self-promoting, to which he responded with a well-placed smirk, "You think?". And we would have a good laugh every time. We famously argued who was the "real" Patrick H. Verfurth, and we did so regularly. We would sign off, whether with email or on the phone, "The Real Deal", meaning "The Real Patrick H. Verfurth. I would also tell him he was lucky to be able to use my license and credit cards any time he wished, since we shared the same name. Then I teased that he could use my license if he needed to look younger, or need to buy alcohol (I told him people his age soon wouldn't be allowed to buy it - too dangerous for society). And of course, I would tease him about his middle name, Herman. Mine is Henry, named after my grandfather - his dad - and I would tell him that I got the better deal on that one, for sure. He usually said he disagreed, but a few times he said I might have a point - of course with a grin on his face.