‘NEVER!!! “, bellowed the woman holding court in my sister Katie’s living room. “Never in a million years did he get caught!” Relating some important family history, she continued, “And poor Mickey…he always got caught!! But Billy…he could do no wrong!”, she wailed, hinting at a smidge of jealousy, perhaps.

It was my Aunt Patty on a rare…very rare sojourn to Long Island. She was speaking of her two step brothers Mickey and Billy O’Keefe who grew up in Silver Beach under the Throggs Neck Bridge in The Bronx. Mickey, sadly, long gone from a weak heart that survived and reached its limit of three bypasses. Billy was in the house and celebrating his 75th birthday. He has lived to hear others tell Billy O stories that have also outlived statutes of limitations.

The O’Keefe boys were notorious for their good looks, charming personalities, as well as their rather extraordinary and above average mischief: some rather petty and unpetty crimes, perhaps. And the only time Billy got caught for something serious…he, of course was given a special option. Face the music (the judicial system, actually)…or join the Marines.

Joining the Marines may have been the best thing to happen to him. Its where he honed and developed two of his greatest obsessions and pastimes: Ironing clothes…and cooking. He ironed all my shirts for years….rendering me helpless through my twenties in New York City, I’d lazily dry-clean them simply because I couldn’t iron. Now I simply buy gallons of Downy Wrinkle reducer!

His cooking was pretty impressive…most notably because he never once used a written recipe. A little of this…a little of that…badda bing…badda boom. Whatever it was…it was delicious. I mean the guy melted mozzarella INTO mashed potatoes 30 years ago! Poured whole milk and butter into them as well. And you wonder where my not so safe addiction to food began?

But it was that incandescent charm…a light in his smile that matched his eyes and laugh and usually echoed around whatever room he was in. Billy somehow charmed anyone and everyone including the nuns at his Catholic grammar school. Sister Stanislaus at St Frances de Chantel even thought Billy might become a priest because of his universal appeal and kindness. Maybe, in your dreams…sister. But his smile and friendly affability won everybody over, including my mother. For eternity.

Astonishing since he and Mickey were abandoned by their mother as toddlers never ever to see her again. And he had a very strict father “Big Mickey” (“built like a brick shithouse”) who punished him harshly, often with his fist or a belt and, once, even a baseball bat. But aunts and uncles seemed to leave their heartprint all over Billy. His aunts Margie and May nurtured him, fed him daily. His uncle Frank (and wife) Aunt Dot….his close as a brother cousin Patty O’Keefe and Billy Dowling….his personal heros…all seriously good people. The biggest antidote to Big Mickey was his stepmother Lenny who carried him along…and like the nuns, worshipped him through his teen years. How she loved him!

The Marines took him away from his fomenting trouble…and harsh punishing father…as did my Mother and her incredible clan of O’Leary’s and Gallaghers who, for the most part embraced him…and eventually put up with him….through my mothers tragic death at 58…and beyond.

As thoroughly described in BILLY O earlier post from 18 months ago… Charismatic charm PLUS drinking EQUALS women, carousing, gallivanting…and disappearing for days and weeks at a time. And all the accoutrements, (just because its my favorite french word i like to use) …disasters, and heartache came along for the ride.

But two years ago….(pretty fascinating because I too became clean and sober almost two years ago…and we actually hadn’t discussed it with eachother) Billy chose to never drink again. Not easy.

Remember this is the guy….that if you drank in the 70’s or 80’s in New York City…in an Irish pub…you probably had a drink with him. He drank THAT much. Every day. Sometimes, all day. He drove drunk rampantly, habitually…for DECADES and never got caught ONCE. Punctuated by a hiccup or a burp, in a stupor, he would proudly profess: “God prahhhhhtects the drunnnnnnks and …. bums.” Never got caught or in any serious trouble. Hence his sister Patty’s rant at the top of this post. I kid you not: Local police even followed him home to make sure he got home safe…he was THAT kind of charmer!!

All these years later….It is truly the most beautiful thing to finally understand the goodness that people felt for him because of his raw true warmth towards people….and despite his sins. If the police could forgive him, why couldn’t we.

The Stopped Drinking and Stayed Stopped thing. That alone is a miracle. He has no program, though I think my mother in heaven is most certainly his higher power. As are his grandchildren.

His grandparenting is so much better than his parenting. Its clear he was flying blind as a very young father…and no less, so quickly a father of four…then five.

The joyous clapping and squeals of joy from his youngest grandchild Daniel, (who labors to grow and communicate as a disabled child)…simply at the mere sight of Billy….most certainly drown out the dramatic sounds and sights from unpleasant memories of the past. Swept away by the healing hands of time…and that loving goodness and well intended charm of Billy O.

No wonder my mother never gave up on him and loved him so. I wish she was here to see it.