A fond farewell
Patti Black's memorial service was yesterday. I had missed the one for George because we were in Utah.
It was supposed to be in the stake center building, but there was a busted pipe which sent the service over to the Institute building across the parking lot. The three wards which meet in the stake center were parceled out today, one of them came to have their meetings in our building in the afternoon, another joined up with a ward in the west building (University Place), and the Young Single Adults met in the Institute building because they are a smaller group.
The two classrooms in the Institute building have a lounge-ish space between them, and the whole three spaces can be opened up into one long room, which is what they did, and it was full. I got to see and hear from the oldest daughter, whom I had never met, only heard tales of. They had the most wonderful (color) picture up of the two of them, and it was included in the program. I only wish that the detail showed up better, so you could see the tender-teasing expression on his face better. The responding laugh is all her.
Kids told tales of Patti squeezing a nickel until it gave up and transformed into a dime, of making her new deacon's first Sunday suit out of the drapes, of being a trainer at Goodwill for years, and then a temple worker. The older sister sitting next to me, from my ward, whispered that she was the best sister-supervisor in the initiatory section, and I know that Patti loved being in the temple. Her family was sealed in the Oakland Temple, where they rode all those miles and hours with another couple who were kind enough to do that for them.
Patti was colorblind, and her son told of her coming down one morning, dressed and ready to go out in some combination that clashed wildly in stripes and plaids, forget the colors which were awful. Son said, Mom, you can't wear that, other son said, Mom, you CAN'T wear that, and husband said, with a looping motion of his finger to point her back upstairs, You're not going anywhere in that, nope, No. So she huffed and grumbled and went back upstairs to change her clothes. But she never let those roadblocks stop her for long.
Once she made a cake for a Relief Society dinner, and strictly scolded her two sons not to take any of it. She made it very clear that they were NOT to cut an end off and eat it, it wasn't for them. Their dad came home, saw cake! and made for it as the boys jumped in, no, no, Dad, don't touch that! with the information that they were sworn not to cut an end off and take some, it was for tonight, and Mom would kill them. Dad heard what they said as they clamored in their panic, and said, okay, I'm not cutting an end off, I'm going to cut a square out of the center. And he did, and of course she was fit to be tied.
They came into the church because they had a neighbor across the street who was LDS and had the missionaries over at the moment when little George, age one, had a serious burn, skin just sloughing off him, and had to go to the hospital. Those elders gave the baby a blessing first, as the neighbors organized the other kids and helped George and Patti take off; when the bandages were removed from his hand a week later, there was perfect new skin and no scar--he was expected to need a series of skin grafts and long treatment. How could you not want to know how this was possible? When they came to knowledge and a testimony they never looked back.
Son George (there's a George of his on a mission, that makes a line of four) finished by reminding those of us who are old enough of a long-ago ad for Tootsie Pops, which had a soft chocolate center (umm, not great chocolate, for sure) and the shtick that it was very hard to wait and lick the lollipop patiently until you reached the soft center. This ad had a boy who never managed to string out the process--count how many licks-- sufficiently, and he asked a wise old owl "how many licks does it take to reach the chocolate center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?" and the owl took the pop calmly, licked, licked, then bit through to the middle (just like the boy), and calmly answered "three." George asked, "How many days could Patti live without George? The answer is fifty-two days. Not a day more."
Dancing in delight, to arrive at his side again--I have no doubt at all.
It was supposed to be in the stake center building, but there was a busted pipe which sent the service over to the Institute building across the parking lot. The three wards which meet in the stake center were parceled out today, one of them came to have their meetings in our building in the afternoon, another joined up with a ward in the west building (University Place), and the Young Single Adults met in the Institute building because they are a smaller group.
The two classrooms in the Institute building have a lounge-ish space between them, and the whole three spaces can be opened up into one long room, which is what they did, and it was full. I got to see and hear from the oldest daughter, whom I had never met, only heard tales of. They had the most wonderful (color) picture up of the two of them, and it was included in the program. I only wish that the detail showed up better, so you could see the tender-teasing expression on his face better. The responding laugh is all her.
Kids told tales of Patti squeezing a nickel until it gave up and transformed into a dime, of making her new deacon's first Sunday suit out of the drapes, of being a trainer at Goodwill for years, and then a temple worker. The older sister sitting next to me, from my ward, whispered that she was the best sister-supervisor in the initiatory section, and I know that Patti loved being in the temple. Her family was sealed in the Oakland Temple, where they rode all those miles and hours with another couple who were kind enough to do that for them.
Patti was colorblind, and her son told of her coming down one morning, dressed and ready to go out in some combination that clashed wildly in stripes and plaids, forget the colors which were awful. Son said, Mom, you can't wear that, other son said, Mom, you CAN'T wear that, and husband said, with a looping motion of his finger to point her back upstairs, You're not going anywhere in that, nope, No. So she huffed and grumbled and went back upstairs to change her clothes. But she never let those roadblocks stop her for long.
Once she made a cake for a Relief Society dinner, and strictly scolded her two sons not to take any of it. She made it very clear that they were NOT to cut an end off and eat it, it wasn't for them. Their dad came home, saw cake! and made for it as the boys jumped in, no, no, Dad, don't touch that! with the information that they were sworn not to cut an end off and take some, it was for tonight, and Mom would kill them. Dad heard what they said as they clamored in their panic, and said, okay, I'm not cutting an end off, I'm going to cut a square out of the center. And he did, and of course she was fit to be tied.
They came into the church because they had a neighbor across the street who was LDS and had the missionaries over at the moment when little George, age one, had a serious burn, skin just sloughing off him, and had to go to the hospital. Those elders gave the baby a blessing first, as the neighbors organized the other kids and helped George and Patti take off; when the bandages were removed from his hand a week later, there was perfect new skin and no scar--he was expected to need a series of skin grafts and long treatment. How could you not want to know how this was possible? When they came to knowledge and a testimony they never looked back.
Son George (there's a George of his on a mission, that makes a line of four) finished by reminding those of us who are old enough of a long-ago ad for Tootsie Pops, which had a soft chocolate center (umm, not great chocolate, for sure) and the shtick that it was very hard to wait and lick the lollipop patiently until you reached the soft center. This ad had a boy who never managed to string out the process--count how many licks-- sufficiently, and he asked a wise old owl "how many licks does it take to reach the chocolate center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?" and the owl took the pop calmly, licked, licked, then bit through to the middle (just like the boy), and calmly answered "three." George asked, "How many days could Patti live without George? The answer is fifty-two days. Not a day more."
Dancing in delight, to arrive at his side again--I have no doubt at all.
Oh how sweet is that.
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