John Patrick Michael “Pat” Hughes Jr., as he was known all his life, was born on December 20, 1947 at Schofield Barracks in Wahiawa, HI (making him native to that state, something he treasured). The first of four boys, he was born into an Army family. His father, Colonel John P.M. Hughes, was a career Infantry officer who had served in the Pacific theater of operations during World War II. As a military brat, Pat moved in cadence to his father’s assignments, to and fro every three years or so, but frequently back to Hawaii, which strengthened his ties to that state and its people.
After graduating from Damien School in Honolulu in 1966, he entered the University of Hawaii. There he met the love of his life, Carol Daffern, also a freshman. That same year, 1966, he applied for and received an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy from his state representative, entering in early July 1967 with the Class of 1971. Pat thrived at the Academy, excelling in academics and partaking in many and varied activities. What impressed his classmates most, however, was his ebullient personality. It took but a few moments with Pat to realize that here was the real thing, the salt of the earth. His kindness, sense of humor, and willingness to listen earned him the friendship of all who met him.
He chose Military Intelligence as his branch and, upon graduation, served for a year with the 1st Battalion, 5th Cavalry Regiment (Airmobile Infantry), 3rd Brigade, 1st Cavalry Division at Fort Hood, TX before moving on to Intelligence officer basic at Fort Huachuca, AZ. He was overjoyed to receive his first MI assignment in Hawaii, and he and his new wife, Carol (married on March 4, 1972 in San Diego, CA), arrived in early 1972 at Schofield Barracks, where he was assigned as the S-2 (intelligence officer) of the 25th Division Support Command.
Pat excelled in that assignment but slowly and for various reasons came to the conclusion that the Army was not going to be his and Carol’s home. He resigned his commission in June 1976 and traveled to California with his family (after welcoming daughter Shannon), enrolling at San Diego State in pursuit of a master’s degree in geology, a science for which he had a lifelong fascination.
Upon obtaining his degree, and after welcoming his son Chris to his family, he was employed by Chevron Oil as a staff geologist. Geology is key to oil exploration and extraction, and Pat was involved in all aspects of the business, being assigned to refineries in California, extraction sites in Alaska, and exploration sites from Indonesia to Kazakhstan. Later in his career, he specialized in petroleum-related ground water pollution and prevention, and this is where Pat’s very deep sense of morality paid huge dividends. Pat was consulted when an oil operation involved potential or actual pollution. In such capacity he would often speak truth to power. When deadlines or bottom lines were potentially impacted, he would often get energetic pushback to his recommendations. Pat stood his ground, and, to their credit, his corporate superiors in Chevron usually backed him up. Pat had convinced them that pollution, potential or existing, was bad for business: pay now to prevent or repair the damage or pay much more later. He was an unsung hero to the Earth and its inhabitants.
Pat’s real vocation was his utter devotion to Carol, Shannon and Chris. There was nothing insipid about him. He was enthusiastic about everything and delighted in the world around him, always learning, always wanting to share his joy with others. As a person, he was what the English call a “one off.” He was joie de vie as manifested in an extraordinary human being.
On the birth of his first grandchild, Pat chose the Hawaiian kūpuna as his grandfather-name, a moniker in the Polynesian culture with far deeper connotations than the English “grandfather.” Pat regarded himself as Hawaiian and justifiably so—an Irish Catholic Hawaiian to be sure but Hawaiian none the less. To appreciate how this manifested itself in Pat, you need to be familiar with the notion of Ohana. Ohana is a Hawaiian term that has no direct English equivalent, though you’ll often hear it translated as “family” or “big family.” It is so much more than that. It is a kind of ecosystem that evolved within the Hawaiian cultural milieu to do mainly one thing: nurture—nurture the little ones, nurture the needy ones, nurture the broken ones. It is a circle of family that transcends DNA, location, or circumstance, thriving on empathy and loving kindness.
Pat’s Ohana was like the cosmos, with radically indistinct but ever-expanding boundaries, growing ever larger: caring for his parents and relatives in their times of need, helping those who began as strangers in need and who became (in short order) part of his Ohana.
There is another name for the powerful force that ran through this good man: grace.
Pat was a devout Christian his entire life. It defined him. He was, however, not of the dour, zero-sum variety for whom the Gospels are, for some, anything but “the good news.” For Pat, they were indeed Good News, made evident in the love and joy he manifested. Throughout his life he sought the good for all who crossed his path: playing Santa at Christmas (with much padding), participating musically in the Mass, teaching geology, working with the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, and with the many small, daily acts of charity that define the good life. Pat, we miss you and always will.