Virgil Unrein passed away this week. When my sister Beth shared the news with me Wednesday night, I sat down and in seconds was flooded with memories of my dear friend. The Unreins belonged to St. Pat’s and their family was large – Virgil had seven siblings, and he was the second oldest. We went to St. Pat’s together, and I came to know a couple of his brothers, namely Richard and Nick. Virgil’s dad Edwin worked in the oil field and died in May, 1975. At that time Virgil was 18.
When all of Virgil’s family moved away from GB he stayed. He became part of the Keenan family.
But it would be more accurate to say he became part of the Barton County family. Everyone looked after him. Long before any politician embraced the expression ‘it takes a village’ there were families all over Barton County doing just that. “I tried to get Virgil to move to Hutchinson where I lived but he wanted to stay there. Everyone in Great Bend was so good to him,” his brother Nick said.
I know many businesses welcomed him and probably priced things based on what he could pay. And perhaps the ultimate compliment, Lumpy’s named a beer after him. Virgil was the kind of person who brought out the best in you.
I shared the news with fellow St. Pat’s student John Holt. John’s comment: “Virgil had a hard life, but always seemed oblivious to it.”
Virgil had an impairment of some kind but he never used it as a crutch. After he graduated from high school my mother took it upon herself to get him qualified for disability benefits. This gave him modest support which allowed him to provide for basic necessities. He was always so grateful for mom’s dedication to him. When mom passed away abruptly fifteen years ago he took it very hard. We all did.
For years Virgil worked at the Pastry Shop on Washington. Jim and Sally Lloyd gave him the chance to learn a craft. “He was good to me,” Jim told me. “He worked for 25 years in the baking business. He was interested in it. He did a real good job. I could depend on him. I never once told him to do anything. He wanted to be accepted as a person who had a choice. Ask him in a kind way and he would never let you down.” Virgil lived with the Lloyds for a year and later moved into one of their rentals. It was a successful partnership that gave Virgil an innate sense of self-worth.
Virgil managed with what he had. He had high functionality but I don’t believe he ever drove a car. A bike was his means. He managed, coped and adapted. He never married, and had no children.
Every Friday afternoon for years Virgil would come by to visit dad at the law firm. They would chat, often briefly, but dad would ask “you doing ok?” “Good. Really good” Virgil would reply. And then dad would extend him spending money. Thirty dollars. If dad was out of town, the money was left at the front desk for him.
When I last saw Virgil he was sporting a colorful flannel shirt, tucked in, and wore a tweed cap. His shoes showed the wear of walking many miles. He was smiling broadly.
Two specific memories came to mind when I reminisce about Virgil. I remember distinctly the time our third grade class at St Pats visited the Great Bend library. The notion of thousands of books available to take home was too much for Virgil to resist. Virgil came to the check out and his arms were brimming with books. Books on geography, John Kennedy, the NASA space mission, the Civil War. Virgil was curious and interested in life and learning. He was so excited to be able to actually take these books home!
This was apparently unprecedented. I remember all this played out before our class standing behind him. We were standing there and the librarian, no doubt an earnest lady devoted to facilitating learning, was befuddled. Technically there was no limit to the books you could check out, so what could she do? A: Nothing. Virgil took them all home. He was so happy. The class was thrilled as well.
The second memory was scouting. Our troop was 151 and Larry Drescher was the scout leader. Virgil went with us to Camp Kanza. He loved to wear the uniform, loved being part of group, especially one with his friends. But Camp Kanza is in the middle of nowhere and in July it was 110 degrees in the shade with no shade. The sun beats down and you walk from merit badge site to site and inhale dust. Think Walking Dead before Hollywood wrote the screenplay. Heat, humidity, soil, misery and a couple merit badges. Other than that, it was delightful.
We would gather in the tent of the Senior Patrol leader and play poker. The tenderfoots would always seem to be on the losing end. And just when things got interesting, someone would run in the tent and declare “Mr. Drescher is coming!” We would run in eight different directions in pitch black darkness. I was there. So was Virgil.
There other things. “Virgil’s method of drying dishes at campouts was legendary,” Marty remembered. “He would hold a wet dish in each hand and wave his hands up and down sort of like he was doing jumping jacks -- except his legs were still.” With the heat, it was magic. One year he came to scouts at Stella Maris -- a building where 17th street dead ends to McKinley and where the troop met for years. The leader announced that the annual renewal fee was something like $5. Virgil got very quiet. Someone asked him what was wrong. “I have to quit scouts, I don’t have the $5.” And, like happens in towns like ours, his dues were mysteriously paid. ¬
Virgil led a simple, happy life. And he brought joy to everyone who knew him. And in Great Bend, that was pretty much everyone.
Last Friday came and went and the Keenan Law Firm had no smiling visitor.
Godspeed Virgil J. Unrein.

Write to Matt at his Website, matthewkeenan.com.