This is the spiritual legacy of Phillip A. McDonald. It highlights the important things in his life and shows his depth of character.

Phillip McDonald

I want you to know how very important family is. Friends come and go throughout your life, but family is always there. Family is so important—treasure your family and the parties and get-togethers.

I’ve had different roles in my family—a son, brother, husband, father and grandfather. But every single role was precious to me.

My father, he was a kind, gentle man. The worst thing I ever remember my dad saying was, “That was a helluva guy.”

My mother was a person with a fiery temper. When she got mad, you’d know it right away. She was more verbal than my dad. My mother had a fast temper where my dad was slow to anger. But my dad would hold a grudge.

I had good parents. Even though she had a temper, my mother was a good mother. I also had a good sister and a good brother. We really came from a nice family.

I grew up on a farm in Minnesota. Although I injured my leg as a teenager and missed a year of school, I graduated from high school in Minnesota. After being drafted into the Army, I went to Korea, where I proudly served my country. I remember teaching the kids some sanitized verses of Army songs I learned, like Hinky-dinky Parlez-vous.

I’ve always enjoyed singing. As a kid, I sang in the choir and served as an altar boy at church. I remember singing songs with the kids during trips to the Colorado Rockies, where we sang MacNamara’s Band, Dear Old Donegal and other songs. I also recall singing the Irish Lullaby to grandkids when they were babies.

After my discharge from the Army, I had dinner with my cousin Terry McDonald and met Nora. We started dating and we married in December 1955. We’ve been married more than 40 years. It’s not always a bed of roses for either one of us. But I love her; I always will.

We had six wonderful kids together. We had some tough times when money was short, but we had fun too. We loved camping trips, picnics and making casseroles from whatever we had handy.

We managed to go back to school in the 1970s with six kids. The older kids were pretty responsible, taking care of things at home so we could go to the University of Denver. We both graduated in nursing. That really changed our lives for the better. I think it also taught our kids the importance of a good education.

I’ve also tried to teach the kids to be honest, accept responsibility and look at the lighter side of life. I know sometimes when they’re feeling down, I’ll crack or joke or two to make them smile. I want my kids to be trustworthy, trusting, caring, supportive and possess a strong sense of right and wrong. I think they all do have those characteristics.

As a father, I had some familiar sayings that the six kids all learned. I used to tell the kids, “A little responsibility and you fold.” After a while, it got to the point where they knew what was coming. All I had to say was: “A little responsibility” and that was the end of that.

One time Nora and I went to New Orleans and we said we’d call when we got there. Well, I tried to call once from New Orleans, and nobody answered. So later, when we arrived in Portland, we had to call from the airport so they would pick us up. They were ready for us. With the computer they had written two signs. One sign said, “Happy Father’s Day” which meant something. The other one, across the way, said, “A little responsibility and you fold.” I couldn’t say a word. I really had it coming.

I used to ask the kids when they were worried about something, “What were you worrying about this time last year?” Sometimes remembering was a bad memory, but often it put the current problem into a better perspective. This, too, shall pass.

I worry about my kids and my grandkids. I’ve enrolled all the kids in AAA and made sure they had a cell phone. I also gave each of the kids a set of The Doctors Book of Home Remedies and The Pill Book.

I often asked the kids as they left our house to call when they got home. If they didn’t, I tell them, “A little responsibility …”

When the kids were sick, even when they were older, I always wanted them home because it’s miserable to be alone when you’re sick.

As a registered nurse, I spent most of my career at a community hospital in Vancouver, working on the fourth floor with patients in the drug and alcohol rehabilitation program. I usually found a way to make them laugh, even though they didn’t feel much like laughing when they came into the program. But I tried to help them see beyond their present situation into a future that could be much brighter.

Maybe you could say I had the gift of gab. I’m Irish, after all. In 1985, Nora and I flew to Ireland. I can still hardly believe I went. On the plane, above the Atlantic Ocean, I remember telling Nora, “I can’t believe we’re really going to Ireland.” We both come from an Irish background, so this was the trip of a lifetime. Although I couldn’t climb the steps of Blarney Castle because of my health, I always say, “I kissed the girl who kissed the Blarney Stone.”

I believe in God. I hope He’s what I expect him to be: very fair and very generous. I think He’ll let me in to heaven. I’d like to go to heaven.

You know, I often said if there wasn’t anything to Him—suppose it was all phony, let’s just say, for example—how many times has He saved the sanity of people just because there’s something higher than them, when they’re desperate? You always think there’s going to be something after this. God’s there, He’s watching, He’ll help you. That keeps you going until you can get yourself together.

I believe there is a higher power. There’s God, and I surely hope there’s something after this. My views on reincarnation are that I don’t believe in it—and I didn’t believe in it last time I was here either.

Seriously, I do believe in God. I’ve got faith and the church. I look to the Catholic Church for confession and all the sacraments. We raised our kids Catholic too, but our son chose to worship in a Methodist church. I told him, “I don’t care where you kneel, just as long as you do.”

I hope we’ll all get together in heaven and have a big reunion. During most of my life, I ended my prayers with this: “And may the souls of the faithfully departed rest in peace. Amen.” I hope my children and grandchildren do the same, so I’ll be receiving their prayers even after I’m gone.

God’s been good to me. He’s sent me a good family. I have a wonderful wife. If I had to do it over again, I’d marry the same girl, and have the same kids. There are days that I might have questions about that, but as a whole, yes. I have a family that I’m very, very proud of. And I’m pretty proud of the ones they have picked. There’s not a son-in-law I don’t like, which isn’t bad for four, or a daughter-in-law, for that matter. And the family just keeps getting bigger and better. That’s why I really don’t want to leave, you know.

So I’ll let you say, “This is your life—it’s been quite a ride.”

Phil passed away during the summer of 1998, but he left his loved ones with very precious treasures—his life story and a record of the values he cherished.