WRITING TO THE DEAD - KEVIN

 Why write to the dead? It’s too late. You missed it. 

 Kevin McGuire and I go (went) way back…

Back to1976. Today its 2025….2025-1976 = 49 --- 49 fucking years ago! 

What The Fuck?

.I went to Penn State. Graduated in 1976… Son Tom born in 1975..I started work at Peat, Marwick, Mitchell & Co. (PMM) in Hartford around September-October 1976. I was an intern. So was Kevin. He graduated from Providence College that same year. We worked in the same office but not together. Kevin was a lot younger than I - He was like 22-23...I was 28. We hit it off early and had fun. Kevin didn’t like accounting and neither did I. However, I had to be there. Later, in 1977, I had to have an operation on my right wrist due to an accident in the Navy. I took the CPA exam with a cast on my right arm from wrist to above the elbow. I put a pencil in my cast because the CPA people said “no excuses” . You had 3 years to pass or else. So, I had a cast ony arm and it was Spring, 1977.

Kevin was a great golfer. Like in the 70s. He had been a caddie at Wampanoag Country Club where John Popp was a member. John Popp was also the Managing and Senior Partner at PMM& Co. Mr. Popp was a good man and told Kevin to apply for employment there. Kevin was hired. One day I suggested to Kevin ”Why Don’t We Start an Annual Golf Event at Wampanoag?” He said “Good Idea. Lets go talk to Mr. Popp.”

Now, young interns do not usually walk into the managing partner’s office to present a hare-brained idea like this one. John Popp was not only receptive but very supportive.

I think he said something like “Good Idea as long as it doesn’t interfere with “TAX SEASON” - We planned it for May something and it was off.

We set the whole thing up with easy support from the golf club (with John Popp’s endorsement) and got started. The event was a huge success – We used a “Shotgun Scramble” which meant that every hole had its four person team start at once. (PS – I do not nor have I ever played golf so I had no fucking idea what that meant.)

We started and Kevin and I took a golf cart full of beer and drove around passing out the beer. Me in my cast and everyone wanting Kevin to join their foursome.

I am not sure if the “Annual” part continued or not. Kevin left the firm to sell for CIGNA and I left to become a CFO for a small exporter.

Kevin and I kept in touch for years and stayed friends. He was a great golfer but an even greater golf pro/coach. He came by our house in Chester, Connecticut one time and after a few beers (Kevin always drank MILLER LITE) we went outside. Our property was on Chester Creek in Chester, Connecticut and was across the street from the creek.

“Kevin, see that billboard over there? (it must have been 200-250 yards away)

See if you can hit it!”

Kevin laughed good-naturedly as always and said. “Ok, I’ll try”

He lined up the shot and took a swing. I swear to you the ball soared out over the marsh grass, between two tall trees across the street and rose up two times or levels and BANG hit the billboard!. We ran back into the house laughing and hiding from anyone who may have seen us.

Years passed. Many years when I knew Kevin had worked long, travelling hours for CIGNA, gotten married, adopted two kids, and then got divorced. We touched base and then I got the call. Kevin was in the hospital in Hartford with cancer. I drove there and walked into his room. 7-8 guys were sitting around, some from Providence College, others, neighbors, friends, golfing buddies from Duxbury or Marshfield. They joked as if Kevin was just in for a check up. He encouraged them with more jokes and teased then with golf stories. Later, maybe six months later, Kevin called me. “Hey Tom, I am at Legal Seafoods near the Aquarium didn’t you say you were working near here? Come over for a beer.”

I joined him and his lady-friend at the bar. Kevin looked like shit. He was as upbeat as ever “Pure Kevin”. “Hey Tom! How are you?”

Kevin proceeded to tell/assure me that everything was going great. He said he had the best oncologist in Boston and that everything was great. “How are YOU doing, Hows Nelle?”. Looking at Kevin, knowing him and how he was so upbeat all the time was very disturbing. I left, we hugged, and the next time I saw him was at a Hospice Unit somewhere in Scituate. He died a few weeks later.

I remembered him telling me “Tom, I plan to retire soon, before I am 60, and play golf every day” Kevin was 59 when he died.