Patrick David Redman

Patrick David Redman died on February 13, 2018. Ever the party boy, he slipped away on Mardi Gras after a cascade of health problems. He was an attorney, a father, a brother, a friend, and a forty-year resident of Austin. Born in El Paso on December 22, 1953, to Robert Redman and Isela Romero Redman, Patrick immediately acquired the nickname "Patchy." Nearly everyone called him that, including his own children (and, later, the nurses who cared for him in the Seton ICU). Patchy enjoyed having a December birthday, so he could moan piteously about receiving too few gifts since Christmas loomed. To soothe himself, he would throw his own "surprise" parties. The surprise was that he never knew who would show up, or how many of them, but he cooked enough food for an army. He was proud of his Mexican-Irish heritage and loved growing up in El Paso. The desert was his backyard; border culture shaped and enriched his life and his worldview. Patchy attended Coronado High School in El Paso and then, in 1972, enrolled at Rice University in Houston, where he majored in philosophy. He went on to attend the University of Texas School of Law, obtaining his J.D. in 1981. He worked for the Texas Department of Agriculture and the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission before becoming general counsel for two state senators. He had a love-hate relationship with the Texas Legislature when it was in session, and through his work in state politics amassed a long list of good friends and bad jokes. Since 2004, Patrick worked for the Texas County & District Retirement System, where he had many cherished colleagues and friends. He always maintained a private practice, mostly to help out friends, and handled everything from bail bonds to wills. Throughout his 36 years as an attorney, he kept a thousand secrets, and he took all of them with him to the grave. In 1980 Patchy married Anne Dingus, whom he met in a Shakespeare class at Rice. They had two sons, Philip Redman and Parker Redman, both of whom also attended Rice. They subsequently divorced but stayed close friends; she called him "the best ex in Tex." Patchy was a darn fine chef. His specialties included a spicy, chunky gazpacho, which he made by the gallon and dubbed "gazpatchmo." He was a grillmeister who practiced the fire arts with both wood and propane. He had a rare skill for cooking meat to perfection, and roasted vegetables long before doing so became a culinary trend. He also excelled at making vegetarian sushi and even taught how-to classes. He kept cooked rice in the fridge and could produce two rolls of sushi in twenty minutes. Bridge was one of Patchy's great passions. For more than twenty years, he hosted a regular foursome—or eightsome—on Thursday nights. Many of the usual suspects from bridge joined him at Upper Crust bakery on Sunday mornings, where they pooled brain power to solve the New York Times Sunday crossword. He was known for his eclectic collection of "chapeaux" and his eye-catching fashion choices, such as his Thanksgiving turkey shirt, his mud-brown paisley Bermudas, and his mismatched kitchen clogs—one adorned with bacon, the other with eggs. He traveled widely and took his kids on a variety of cool trips—to Washington, D.C.; the Grand Canyon; and, most of all, to various cities in Mexico, where he had dozens of cousins. He also loved golf. As a teenager he once caddied for Lee Trevino, but his favorite fairway moment happened some twenty years ago in Austin, when he hit his first and only hole in one. A frequent shopper at the state surplus store, Patchy was extremely pleased when he purchased a retired law-enforcement Crown Victoria, which he named "Broderick." He often bought bags full of pocket knives—some bearing names such as "Oscar" and "Red"—that he handed out to friends and co-workers. For forty years he was obsessed with acquiring a pinball machine, and in the summer of 2016 he realized his dream by purchasing his beloved "Krissy," who provided friends and family with many hours of fun on "pinball and pizza" nights. Patchy was a great storyteller with a rubber face. His expressions alone could crack people up. He was level-headed in a crisis and giddy when the forecast predicted "patchy fog." Having grown up in a bilingual family, he never missed a chance to converse with another Spanish speaker. At fancy shebangs or hifalutin legal events—or from his own hospital bed—he took the time to chat with anyone who was helping him, be they surgeons or servers. Although he was kind to the bone, he had a rapier wit and had a reservoir of scathing zingers that he could deliver deadpan or with an angelic smile; for instance, he referred to a certain in-law as "the chief test pilot for National Broom." He had great joie de vivre, even when he was sick; he beat lymphoma, but told family that, if it killed him, he wanted his obituary to say that he died "after a long and cowardly battle with cancer." Patchy is survived by his son Phil Redman; his sister and brother-in-law, Kati and David Timmons; his nephews Sam Redman and Joseph Timmons; his aunt Ruth Ann Williamson; and a host of cousins from Mexico and beyond. He was predeceased by both his parents; his brothers, Bobbo and Micky; and his son Parker Redman. We hope that, right this minute, they are all hanging out together again. We will miss you, Mr. Life of the Party. A very casual memorial gathering will take place on March 24 at 2:00 p.m. Please wear quirky clothes or a weird hat in Patchy's honor. For details, contact patchy.memorial@gmail.com. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that mourners consider donations to the Parker Redman Memorial Fund for Baker College, ? Baker College, Rice University, 6320 Main St., Houston, TX, 77005. Random host: It was lovely having you, Patchy. Patchy: It was lovely being had.