Pat McKenna

Pat McKenna of Portage moved through life with the quick stride of an athlete and the steady kindness of a man who always had time for one more person. He was loving, meticulous, funny, and deeply generous—a gifted librarian, a patient father, and a devoted husband for nearly six decades.

Pat was born on August 23, 1945, at a hopeful turning point, as the country prepared to leave World War II behind and welcome peace. He would build his own life around the quieter strengths of community, family, friendship, and service.

Pat began his career behind the wheel of a bookmobile, carrying books out to readers before becoming a public librarian in the Kalamazoo area. He worked at several branches, including downtown as head of the young adult’s department and later at a branch where he and Cheryl served side by side. Children and young adults brought out some of his finest gifts: patience, warmth, and a natural ability to make people feel welcome. He took library youth groups beyond the shelves on outings to Cedar Point and Great America, extending his care for young people well beyond the library doors.

He met Cheryl at the library while standing in a corner eating a sandwich, a wonderfully unceremonious beginning to the central partnership of his life. They married within months of their first date and spent 56 years together. They talked constantly, rarely argued, and gave family and friends a model of close, loving companionship. Between them, they devoted a combined 72 years to the Kalamazoo Public Library system before Pat retired at 57 and Cheryl at 55.

A neighbor who worked as a social worker connected Pat and Cheryl with foster care. Shaun came to them at age nine and Sonya at six, and both became their children through adoption. Pat was a gentle, patient father who taught them to resist easy judgments; life held “no black and white, a lot of gray.” He paired that wisdom with practical generosity and was always ready to give someone the shirt off his back.

At home, Pat’s care showed up in dependable routines. He did the family laundry every day, partly because his home gym was in the basement and partly because he and Cheryl had made an efficient trade: she handled dinner, and he handled the clothes. His workouts were legendary. The night after their wedding, he did 500 push-ups, and he maintained exercise for the rest of his life, regularly spending at least two hours in the gym.

He moved fast outside the gym as well. Pat was a remarkably quick walker and once placed near the top in a regional speed walking event. Golf claimed Monday nights for years, and he went on to play St. Andrews in Scotland, spend a week golfing in Ireland, and achieve the golfer’s treasured rarity: a hole-in-one. Hockey had its own standing appointment. He held season tickets to a local team and enjoyed the games with his brother and close friends.

Pat brought the same discipline to caring for his home. He mowed the lawn religiously and insisted on climbing ladders to clean the gutters well into his 70s, even after Parkinson’s had made balance more precarious. The sight worried his family.

Retirement gave Pat more room to travel and, even more importantly, more time to enjoy the people he loved. He and Cheryl made the drive to California roughly 27 times to visit family, and Pat knew the roads west of the Mississippi with the confidence of someone who had mentally cataloged every route. He embraced grandparenthood with the same enthusiasm he brought to everything else, making time with his grandchildren—Bianca, Shaun, Zak, and Ethan—active, memorable, and delicious. He took them to Dairy Queen and ballgames, shared peanut butter-and-apple snacks with them, and treasured the simple moments that became lasting memories. Peanut butter, in Pat’s estimation, belonged on nearly everything, including pizza crusts, and he salted his food with that same unmistakable enthusiasm.

Dark beer, especially Guinness, was another pleasure. When Parkinson’s affected his sense of taste, Pat switched to IPAs because their hops still came through more strongly. Later, when chewing became harder, applesauce became easier to manage. These adaptations reflected the way he lived with the disease: practically, persistently, and with his humor intact.

Pat was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in the 2010s, though its signs had likely been present for years. His lifelong athleticism and determined energy helped him remain remarkably active, and his mind stayed sharp as his body faced greater limits. Eventually, the risks became too serious to ignore. During one frightening moment, he stumbled toward an open basement stairway, and his son-in-law Ray caught him just in time. That close call led to Pat’s move to Story Point for full-time care.

Pat died on September 1, 2026, nine days after his 81st birthday. He leaves an example built through daily acts of service: helping young readers find their way, talking through a long marriage, welcoming children into a home, and sharing time, miles, and whatever he had to give. Remember Pat when life calls for a generous answer: leave room for gray, keep moving, and give freely.

Owen ‘Pat’ McKenna of Portage, age 81, died on September 1, 2026. He was born on August 23, 2026, in Kalamazoo to Edward and Jeanette McKenna. He was preceded in death by his parents; sister Mary Jean; brothers: Edward and Terry; and his son, Shaun. Surviving are his wife of 56 years, Cheryl Mckenna; daughter, Sonya (Ray) Ladd; grandchildren: Bianca (Nathan) Hennes, Zakary Escobar, Shaun Escobar, and Ethan Escobar; and many nieces and nephews.

Please join us for a Life Story Visitation on September 26, from 12 to 2 pm, at Betzler Life Story Funeral Homes, 6080 Stadium Drive, Kalamazoo (269) 375-2900 where food, drinks, and stories will be shared. Celebrate Pat’s life online by sharing your favorite stories and photos on his dedicated webpage at BetzlerLifeStory.com. Memorial contributions may be made to your charity of choice.