08/12/2025
In the O’Laughlin branch of the Irish tree, the tradition was that the oldest son was given the honor of receiving his paternal grandfather’s first name and his father’s first name as his secondary name. Raymond Patrick O’Laughlin was born in Midland, Michigan Sunday October 19, 1958. Raymond was the first son into our Irish family and was a baby any father would be proud of. He was a dark, curly haired cherub with sparkling eyes and freckles dotting his button nose.
Precocious does not adequately describe this adventurous, energetic, fearless, ambitious and conscientious youngster who had an infectious zest for life; traits he fully utilized as he matured. It was eight long years of waiting until he could begin his baseball career, but once he was able to play, Ray was notorious as the batter always swinging for the fence. His swing with a two-strike count had more fierce energy than his first two attempts.
“Swing for the Fence!”
There was no challenge in suffering hero worship, having an older brother with Ray’s gifts and natural ability. As the little brother, I would sit amazed as Ray would play the music from a television commercial on the funeral home organ, after listening to it just a few times. Or when after concentrating on his sibling struggling to play Red River Valley on guitar, Ray would pick up the discarded instrument and strum out the tune. His physical gifts were just as extraordinary. He once ran down a softball that was hit to the centerfield fence. The player who lined up to cut the throw to home plate had to hit the dirt to avoid getting hit in the chest by his throw, as the ball one-hopped to the catcher for the tag, while the ball never rose more than eight feet off the ground from centerfield to home plate. I remember sitting in the bleachers during his high school baseball season watching his home run clear the school fence and hit Dick and Jane Johnson’s garage roof, 435 feet from home plate. Not once, but twice. (Verified by a range finder) He was also a force to be reckoned with on the football field. “O’Laughlin in on the tackle” being repeated several times over the loudspeaker every quarter.
While Ray was gifted with natural grace, he was not one to sit back and “just get by.” His freshman football season started with Keith Cozat coming by to drag him out of bed to attend the first day of practice. That year, Ray was not on the starting roster. He did not throw blame at the coach, or make excuses for not starting. Instead, Ray contacted Larry Bower and bought his homemade weight set. He pushed himself to strengthen his body to be able to be in the starting rotation the next season.
“Swing for the fence.”
Anyone who watched Ray on a set of downhill skis with his aggressive slalom, attacking the moguls, the awe-inspiring elevation he achieved when ski jumping performing the eagle, helicopter, daffy and even back flips knew this aerialist had no fear.
“Swing for the fence!”
Ray was a natural with a bow and arrow. (To remember what was available in the early 1970’s: recurve bow, fiberglass arrows, no bow sights, no rangefinder, no bow release and no camo) I personally witnessed Ray bring down a woodcock in flight with one attempt. (A woodcock is about the size of a tennis ball and flies in erratic weaving patterns.) Dean Thering had asked Ray if he would be willing to harvest a whitetail doe that had been terrorizing the herd by his deer blind. It had been chasing the does away, kicking, biting and running off the fawns and even spooking the bucks. Ninja Sniper Ray heeded the call. One evening, with no work or practice scheduled, he climbed into Dean’s hunter’s hotel and awaited the arrival of the “bane of the back ridge”. After watching his target torment the herd, Ray was assured he was observing the correct deer. The difficulty was that she would never pause long enough to present him with a desired broadside stance. Inspired by her display of brutality, Ray saw his opportunity at the base of her skull as she faced away from him. With his shooter’s instinct, Ray released the arrow. Fifteen minutes later, we loaded the dethroned devil of Dean’s deer blind into Deano’s El Camino.
Ray had a strong sense of compassion. Growing up, Ray’s and my bedrooms were both at the south end of the house, away from everyone else’s and shared a common door. Several nights a month, Ray being five years older, would sneak into my room with flashlight in hand, crawl under the covers with me and we would begin our “Secret Talks”. The family life in the O’Laughlin home was deteriorating and getting darker. As things decayed, Ray would check in on me, make sure I was adapting and give me an escape from the building hostility. (Now, to understand the true depth of the following gift, you have to be aware of the way things were in 1976. No cell phones, iPod’s, iPad’s, lap top computers etc. The first prized possession of value a teenager could posses was a stereo; receiver, speakers and turntable for records that could scratch and become damaged and useless. Ray had purchased one with his own money from working as a bagger and carryout at the Coleman Supermarket.) Ray allowed me access to his room, beanbag chair, stereo and headphones to evade the tension of family life, knowing that he had his sports and job to give him respite from the home on Adams Street and I had no such exit. So, I would hole up in the shelter of his room, don the noise silencing headphones and escape with music loaded on his turntable, secure in the cocoon of his beanbag chair and find peace in the melody. Hence my affinity for Peter Frampton and Boston, among others.
With a five-year difference between Ray and myself, we were never brothers who actually “played together” or “hung out”. Along with the age difference, there was an obvious physical disparity. Despite being my older brother, Ray had never bullied or even smacked me our whole lives, no matter how much I may have deserved it as a bratty little brother. The one time I recall pushing him to his limit, Ray had come home after a Monday football practice following a Friday night game. He came in the back door puffed up, proud and vocal telling me that Coach Grabowski had congratulated him on his exceptional performance during the game. Parroting what I had heard our mother consistently remark to him, I replied, “You didn’t wipe all the brown off your nose.” (A** Kissing). Erupting in anger, Ray (all 6 foot + and 195 pounds) charged me, (under 5 foot, 90 pounds) picked me up, one arm under my knees and the other arm behind my back, and raced out the back door with me in his arms, his eyes scanning for a fitting form of punishment. As we landed on the back porch, the stress broke and we both started laughing at the ridiculous picture we made. Having decided on a fitting penalty, Ray proceeded to the southeast corner of the property, where the burning barrels were posted. Both of us still hysterical, he proceeded to dump me butt first into the 55 gallon barrel, wedging me in solid. Both of us with tears streaking down our cheeks, as I struggled hopelessly to free myself from this humiliating imprisonment. He let me suffer for a couple minutes before granting me amnesty and releasing me from my predicament.
As my senior year of high school was coming to a close and with spring approaching, Ray presented me with a proposal. He knew that there was a strong probability that the school baseball team could experience a successful season. He also realized that I had no intention of playing for the current coach. In the course of my previous four seasons with that same individual at the helm, I developed a strong aversion to ever wanting to be in his presence. Ray indicated that he had been in contact with the afore mentioned individual and was offered the position of assistant coach. Ray, who at this point in his life was working the 11pm-7am shift at Robinson Industries seven days a week, while also attending Northwood University as a full-time student. He was sacrificing his study time and sleep so I would have the opportunity to “maybe” experience being part of a victorious team. And, yes, with Ray’s passionate example lifting our spirits and increasing our skills, we were conference champions.
“Swing for the fence!”
A year later, big brother Ray again displayed his compassion for his baby brother as he and his new bride Melissa allowed me to accompany them on their first anniversary trip to Florida. Sacrificing romance for empathy.
Anyone who knew Ray was conscious of his positive perspective on life. Every capacity in his life was the greatest up to that moment in time: whether in his personal or professional life. He was an exceptional inspirator to anyone eager to experience improvement. That trait is what prompted me to inquire if he would be willing to assist me in coaching a junior varsity softball team. I knew the young ladies who would be on the roster. They had the skills, knowledge and ability to perform at a highly competitive level. The only vulnerability was their level of confidence and incentive to reach their potential. I had no doubt that with Ray by my side, these ladies would rise to their athletic pinnacle. Ray, the young ladies and myself did not disappoint. We finished the season with two tournament championships and one runner-up trophy, with several of them being offered varsity uniforms and a place on the varsity team for the state tournament.
“Swing for the Fence!”
With us having different hobbies, Ray would endeavor to keep our connection engaged and would come back and recapture some of our old memories by repeating family traditions. He accompanied Pam and I on what used to be our annual sucker spearing expedition to Houghton Lake. Ray, who had quick wit and an engaging sense of humor, bantered back and forth with me the whole evening caused poor Pam countless moments of uncontrolled laughter crying out, “Stop! Stop! I’m going to have an accident!”.
Although Ray did not share my passion for deer hunting, that did not deter him from joining us for Opening Day when he was available. An experience I will always remember; Ray, Pam and I were hunting the first day of season. Pam and I would always plan on meeting in the woods and share lunch. Since Ray had joined us that year, we had arranged to bring lunch to him. The three of us settled on the ground under his blind, spreading out the banquet and preparing to feast. Of course, no meal is complete without dialogue. As we conversed in hushed tones, our attention was drawn to movement approximately 100 yards North of us. We kept the conversation flowing, as the silhouette began to materialize. A majestic 8-point buck cautiously approached our picnic. As he warily picked his way directly toward us, we continued to converse in hushed tones, admiring this prince of the forest. Time slowed as he closed the distance with meticulous care. At about 30 yards, he paused, still unaware of our presence but convinced something was amiss. He turned and took a few cautious steps back to the north, looked back in our direction, still not aware of our position. Taking a few more steps, he looked back again and slowly returned back from where he appeared. Eyes shining with awe and joyful grins on our faces, we all exchanged tranquil expressions with each other. I then inquired, “Ray, where is your rifle?” His response was a sheepish grin as he located it with his eyes. None of us were disappointed at the missed opportunity. We all felt blessed to be part of that moment in time and I feel thankful that Pam and I were able to share that experience with him.
I believe Ray fulfilled his true calling of being a leader. He had an innate desire to be the best person he could be and was ready and willing to assist anyone who wanted to challenge themselves to follow his example. Ray did not perform this duty for public accolades or to post media self-congratulatory items about his or their achievements. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have a big brother to shepherd them through their lives, aid them to distinguish and circumvent negative patterns, establish constructive direction and to achieve and even surpass their goals.
“Swing for the Fence!”
I also choose to believe that at 4:05 am Tuesday August 12, 2025, Raymond Patrick O’Laughlin was welcomed home with “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
“Grand Slam!”
