I’ll never forget the first time I met Pat Barron when I began work at the now closed Nanaimo Daily News in 2000.
I was tapping away on my computer in my cubicle when I noticed two eyes and a nose staring at me over the top of the partition.
What struck me was how the eyes and nose looked familiar to me, like they were the features of a long-lost relative; and it turns out that’s exactly what they were.
Uncle Pat, as I soon began calling him shortly after we met, introduced himself and said he had seen my byline in the newspaper and, as we had the same surname, he wondered if I was related to him.
I told him I didn’t know about that, but his facial features were very similar to my father’s and many of his brothers.
He said he was a member of the large Barron clan that originated in Cork, Ireland, and had moved to North America during the 1940s.
Pat was astonished and delighted when I told him that my family had emigrated to Newfoundland from Cork in the 1800s and we both realized that we were, in fact, related.
I began to get know this most amazing man over the next few years and introduced him to my parents and other family members, and he and his wife Barbara became regular attendees at our family functions.
His life story is truly fascinating.
Pat was just 22 when the Second World War began and, because he had always had a passion for flying, he trained and became a bomber pilot for the Royal Air Force.
He was wounded in action in 1940 while piloting his bomber aircraft over Luxembourg, and the resistance in that country worked hard to get the injured pilot back into allied hands before he was captured by the Germans who were occupying the country.
For his valour, Pat was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross by King George VI.
During one of our many conversations, Pat began telling me about getting shot down before, to my surprise and rising horror, he suddenly stood up and pulled down his pants.
I was quite relieved when he began pointing to a large scar in his upper thigh where a bullet had gone through during the incident.
In 1994, the town of Mondorf-les-Bains in Luxembourg, that was located close to where Pat was shot down, made him an honorary citizen, and even named a street after him; Barron Boulevard I believe it’s called, or something like that anyway.
Pat was so enamoured with the town and its people that he and his family lived there for a few years after the war.
During the war, Pat and his first wife moved to Canada where he trained RCAF pilots in Ontario, New Brunswick and Quebec and in 1944, he moved his family to San Diego to pursue a career as a commercial pilot.
Pat and his second wife Barbara then moved their family to Nanaimo in 1968 and he became very involved in community affairs in the city.
He strongly believed he could make a difference in any community he lived in and served two successive terms on Nanaimo’s city council.
Pat was long retired from flying and local politics when I first met him in 2000, but his name was still well known in the city and many people would ask me if I was any relation to him.
I had to be careful as to how I answered that question because Pat was controversial in the community for stances he took over a number of issues, so I would just say that we are distantly related, which was the truth anyway.
His memoir, At the Going Down of the Sun, which recounted his most extraordinary life, was published in 2000.
I’m sure it didn’t make it on any best sellers list, but I really enjoyed reading it.
Pat died at the ripe old age of 97 in 2014 and I’ll never forget how full the church was for his funeral as his large family (he had 10 children, 16 grandchildren and five great-grandchildren), as well as his many friends and colleagues, attended to show their respect and love for an incredible man.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to get to know Uncle Pat in his last years.
I just regret that I didn’t have the opportunity to meet him when he was younger.
