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David Dwight Patterson

David Dwight Patterson

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February 01, 2015
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February 01, 2015
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Please don't submit copyrighted work; original poems, songs or prayers welcomed.

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August 05, 2013
(This is the remembrance of Linda Patterson from the reception that followed the memorial service)

I am Linda Patterson.

I first met my future father in law when I was 16 years old and was going steady with his son. Dave and Lucie had invited me to go to dinner with their whole family in Chinatown. It was a fun experience, because when ordering a preset dinner with their large family, it came with all the extra dishes.

During dinner, my boyfriend's dad surprised me with a gift. He had bought it in one of little shops there, and I have kept it for nearly 50 years. The little box it came in says:

“Good Luck Purse
Put a penny in it and it will bring you good luck.”

Dave's dad gave me this silver dime to put in, so that I'd have 10 times the luck.
Next month his son and I will be married 46 years, so I'd say, it worked pretty well.

I knew early on that one of great things about marrying my husband was also getting his truly wonderful family.

My husband Dave & I lived at poverty level for most of the nine years that we lived in Married Student housing. But I always felt safe, because I knew that we had a safety net with Mom and Dad.

After a late show on Sunset Strip Blvd in Hollywood, my new young husband and I were horrified to find that our VW bug had been towed away. Dad got out of bed and drove all the way to Hollywood to get us.

When I was pregnant and we could not afford a working car, they loaned us theirs.

And they liked to find ways to feed us, like regularly taking their whole family and us to Mario's in Westwood for pizza and a movie. I loved that, Mom.

And they have continued to be there for us, with love and support, through out all of these years.

One of the many things I loved about Dad was his story telling. He had a good sense of humor and could laugh, even if the joke was on him.

My favorite story happened when Dad and his granddaughter Alissa, who was four years old at the time, were looking into a mirror together. She ask him in all earnestness, "Grandpa, what color was your hair before you we're fat"?

I am going to miss Dad and I am going to miss his stories. But I am keeping the memories.
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