Patrick J. Leahy represented Vermont in the United States Senate for 48 years – from 1975 to 2023. He also was president pro tempore of the United States Senate from 2012 to 2015 and from 2021 to 2023.
When I think of Kevin McDonald, who died quite suddenly in September, I think of family, integrity and excellence. But it wasn’t always quiet excellence. Sometimes — often in fact — it was noisy excellence — because Kevin was someone who was full of life, laughter and energy.
For more than three decades in my Senate office, Kevin was at the center of just about everything we did. He worked his heart out every single day but also made sure that every day had joy and purpose in it.
Kevin served as my longtime scheduler and senior aide in the United States Senate. He arrived from another Senate office with glowing recommendations and, within weeks, became indispensable.
He understood that a public official’s schedule isn’t just a list of meetings — it’s a reflection of priorities and values. Kevin made sure my time always aligned with the people of Vermont. He kept the trains running in an operation that stretched from Capitol Hill to every corner of our state, and he did it with patience, warmth and grace.
But he also did it with laughter. Kevin had an unmatched sense of humor — quick, mischievous, joyful and Irish to the core. He could find humor in almost anything, and he made others laugh constantly. He wrote every holiday skit for my office for more than 30 years, dreamed up the goofiest costumes and made sure everyone participated.
Kevin had a gift for understanding people — their stories, worries and joys. I can’t count how many Vermonters told me that Kevin remembered important details about their lives: a son or daughter applying to college; a parent recovering from surgery; or a farmer struggling through a hard season. His empathy was genuine and boundless. People who sat down with Kevin often found themselves opening up about their lives and challenges, and they left feeling seen and understood.
Inside the office, Kevin was our compass. Staff came to him before they came to me, knowing he would listen, think things through and offer practical wisdom. He didn’t say, “You can’t do that.” He’d ask, “Have you thought about doing it this way?” His calm steadiness and quick wit grounded us all. In a place full of large personalities and sharp elbows, Kevin led with humility, humor and heart.
He was deeply loyal — the most loyal person I’ve ever known — and deeply faithful. His religion wasn’t for show; it shaped how he treated people. It kept him humble, grounded and kind.
Kevin was, in every sense, part of our family. Our children adored him. When they learned of his passing, their grief was as deep as ours. To us, Kevin wasn’t staff — he was kin.
Since his passing, Marcelle and I have heard from people across Vermont, the country and abroad — friends, former colleagues, even an ambassador in Ireland — all sharing stories of Kevin’s kindness, humor and humanity. Those messages reminded us how far his influence reached and how many lives he touched, not quietly, but joyfully.
I still catch myself reaching for the phone to call him. After decades together, he could finish my sentences, anticipate what I needed, and, more importantly, remind me what mattered.
Kevin McDonald embodied the best of public service — not ambition or self-promotion, but empathy, loyalty, laughter and heart. Vermont, and all of us who knew him, are better for his life, his friendship and his example.
