Eulogy to my good friend, Pat Lowrie:   What primordial, geologic process created the geodes on Dundee creek, I do not know. A geode is a rock that does not look like anything on the outside, but when you break it open, it is hollow and lined with quartz crystals on the inside. The one Pat found was no bigger than a tennis ball.  I turned it over in my hands. It did not seem possible to me that a rock could be hollow inside.    How many more geodes were up there on Dundee creek, we wondered? Could we be sitting on some kind of geodic Klondike? Pat and I resolved to return at once to the headwaters of the mighty Dundee behind Bellefontaine Country Club. It was Dundee creek or bust. I got my bicycle.   The life of a geode prospector is not easy. All that summer Pat and I worked our way along the creek bed smashing every rock we saw with a hammer. We broke a lot of rocks. Unfortunately, most of them were just rocks. Occasionally we would come across a small geode. It was discouraging work. I would have given up, except I did not have anything else to do.   One day Pat hit the jackpot. He found a geode the size of a soccer ball. The translucent crystals lining the cavity were as big as my fingernail. We had never come across anything like this. It was one in a million. Some weeks later, after skateboarding behind St. Pius, we returned to Pat's house to hang out in his basement as was our custom. Summer was almost over, and we were contemplating the start of school when Pat said something I will never forget. He picked up the soccer ball geode and handed it to me. "I want you to have it," he said.    He had worked all summer for that rock; it meant a lot to him--and he just gave it to me. He wanted me to have it because I was his friend. That is the kind of guy he was.   A lot of guys at RGHS were not flashy--they were not great athletes or super popular--but they were good and kind and decent. And Pat was one of them.   I am not sold on the heaven thing, but if such a place does exist, I know Pat is there.