Steve Patterson

Steve answered an ad for a housemate in what must have been 1990 or so, one of those grand old Victorian houses near NW 24th & Pettygrove that we were able to rent unbelievably cheap as long as we had three, sometimes four housemates. We went on to have a series of adventures keeping the house full and managing the personalities. The house had a small room off the kitchen that he turned into his writing room and he was in there most of the time he was home, tapping away. I found a program...

I worked with Steve for over twelve years at his `day job´ as a technical editor. He was such a great part of our team - lightening our meetings with a subtle dry humor, calmly juggling every moving part of every report or proposal he worked on, and just generally helping our experts look better with every document he touched. But more than all that, I was inspired by the example he set of being dedicated to his real work - he edited technical docs all day and had the discipline to write...

I knew Steve as a kid in So. Or. He was always into something interesting to challenge himself. It did not surprise me when in recent years, I discovered he'd become the most interesting of all us neighborhood kids. I'm so sorry I never made the trip up north to see him. He will be sorely missed.

Picture of Steve Patterson (1983) I took of him outside of his family home in Selma, Oregon in a small outbuilding by the river.

On 11/13/2023 Steve wrote in a private message: Look, life is birth, and it´s also death. But we live on a continuum. At no point do we only laugh or only cry. Sometimes, we cry when we´re laughing, and sometimes we laugh when we´re crying. That´s why theatre has a sad mask and a smiling mask. (I thought this was worth sharing on this page, along with an old picture I took of Steve from the early 80's)

Thank you Steve for writing such powerful words. I am filled with gratitude that I was able originate the role you wrote for me of Milena in your play, Liberation. My name in the published script is a point of pride for me and the inscription you wrote fills my heart every time I read it. The black and white photo you took and gave to me as a birthday present hangs in my livingroom and I am able to contemplate its beauty everyday. I will miss you buddy.

We will always remember our trip up to Mt Hebo with Steve and Deb...Steve using his camera to capture the mystery of sun and shadow on the coast range vistas. He was a caring and creative being, completely dedicated to his playwrightimg craft. He will be missed.