Welcome friends and family and thank you all for coming today to celebrate my father and a life well lived. 

I am so grateful and proud to be his daughter. He was, simply, the best person I know. A wonderful mentor to all. A virtuous man of character and values. He taught us all how to create a rich, happy, and fulfilling life.  

My dad was born in Wahoo, Nebraska, a tiny town of 800 people on September 1st, 1944. Tomorrow would be his 81st birthday. Dad was the youngest of three, born to the close-knit Patton family, whose humble beginnings failed to dim the joy and opportunities they enjoyed. He loved his siblings Maryjane and Billy very much. In fact, Billy’s three daughters are here today to celebrate the joyful legacy of the Nebraska Pattons. That legacy is the product of two loving parents. Dad was particularly close to his mother, Mary Ellen, who was born in a sod house on the plains of Nebraska in 1918.

As a child, my dad worked hard and played harder. When he wasn’t working after-school jobs at local farms, he was riding horses with his siblings, hunting fowl, and playing sports. Upon graduation from Wahoo High School, he was accepted to the University of Nebraska, where again he worked to pay tuition. 

As I mentioned, Dad was an avid athlete and walked onto the Nebraska football team as a freshman. After just a few weeks of practice, however, he made the brilliant decision to avoid injury and gave up football to become a cheerleader. He discovered the many advantages of being a cheerleader, like free travel with the team and tossing girls into the air – in addition to remaining injury-free. Rumor is my dad fully appreciated the finer gender, hustling and availing himself to their aid at any opportunity such as helping them move boxes into their dorms, and making sure they were all invited to his fraternity parties. 

Then came the Orange Bowl of 1963. Mom had been set up with a serious fellow named Larry. Serious Larry lacked the traits that a young woman looked for in a young man. Thankfully, my mom’s sorority sister understood the dilemma and set her up on a blind date that New Year’s Eve with my dad. And that was that. Done deal. My parents never went on a date with anyone else. We owe our wonderful family to that sorority sister, Betsy Nore, who is here from Chicago…thank you Betsy!!!

After graduating from University of Nebraska Medical School, my parents moved to Seattle for Dad’s residency. Here they discovered the mountains and the sea, and built their life together, with children, dogs, and a beautiful home. 

Dad was also a man of faith. He was a lifelong Methodist and He believed in the goodness of mankind; the values and principles of Christianity, and of our forefathers, too. Each day he led his actions with the Golden Rule:  Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Everyone was treated with great respect and kindness. He used his voice to praise God – he had a reputation in the church choir for a very loud singing voice. Mom once suggested he might try to temper the volume by matching the other choir members, to which he replied that he wouldn’t lower his voice as he wanted the good Lord to hear him sing.

My father was also a patriot. He believed deeply in our constitution and the equality of man, and the opportunities our great country afford people. Bookshelves in his bedroom, library, office and boat were in fact filled with history books about the United States and its great leaders. And that was fortunate for us as we always knew a Stephen Ambrose book was the perfect gift for his birthday or Father’s Day. His favorite piece of literature though was To Kill a Mockingbird, the ultimate American tale of courage, righteousness and love. 

As a father he set an amazing example of what it is to be a loving parent. He listened intently and patiently.  He watched The Sound of Music with my friends and me every year. When I grew obsessed with Jane Austen, he read Emma and Pride and Prejudice. He regularly drove me to 6 a.m. rowing practices, stopping at Westernco donut shop for a warm crueller. He patiently explained cellular biology. He took me to the hospital with him to examine specimens in the pathology lab. 

My friends could count on Dad to quiz us on vocabulary words on drives up to the mountains for skiing. He provided tidbits of historical context wherever we were, engaging our interest without being didactic or paternalistic. His rare skill at relating to teenagers in that way sprang from his sincere curiosity and encouragement with everyone he encountered each day, from the checkout lady at the grocery store to a renowned history professor. 

Dad found true happiness serving others, as a physician, teacher, mentor, friend, and father. 

But Dad also knew to how to have fun and explore the world. He was an adventurer, skier, hiker, sailor – he even sailed to Hawaii once. He knew these opportunities were the product of his good fortune, and his hard work that created this remarkable life. 

In the last few years of his life, those adventures became more difficult but my dad continued to respect his physical strength swimming daily until recently. As his memory declined, daily tasks became more difficult but his charm remained. A few months before he passed I took him to the grocery store and after a few minutes realized he wasn’t with me. I abandoned my shopping cart and ran through the store looking for him only to discover him tipping his hat, smiling and flirting with the nice checkout woman who had been working that counter for 40 years. 

Dad was everything to me. He gave the best hugs and smiles, encouraged me daily and made me believe that  I could do anything. He was the most proud father of the bride when Bruce and I married right here on this lawn. He was the proudest grandfather when we had Brady, Bowden, and especially Annette.

He was so proud of my brother, John, and his beautiful and kind wife,Jenny as well, and of course their twins, Harris and Fauss. He buttons were truly popping off his shirts when they were born followed by nnnette just 3 days later. 

We miss him dearly already but I know that every decision I make, and any kindness in my heart, love and respect for my family, friends, and patients come from what I learned from my father and mother. He lives through me that way, and I hope continues through my own children. 

I recently spoke to my minister in New York, who reminded me of a particular Methodist prayer. “It seems it might have been there in the ether of your father’s life,” he said. 

I believe it has:  

“O God who gave us birth, help us to live as those who are prepared to die; and when our days here are accomplished, help us to die as those who go forth to live, so that living or dying our life may be in you; and that nothing in life or in death will be able to separate us from your great love ….”

May God hold my father tenderly. 

Thank you for taking the time to come here everyone. I deeply appreciate it.

I hope YOU appreciate, for me to stand up here today, I had to break a life rule: Never stand up at a podium and speak at a eulogy immediately after a Harvard English major. Good job little Kooie.

Dad, I know that you can't hear me anymore, but I also believe, that, somehow, you can.

Dad, you were a good dad and I have a dozen statements for you here today.

Chapter One
FOUNDATIONS

1. Home

Dad, you were a good dad.

You grew up in a small town in Nebraska and growing up, you didn’t even know that places like this existed, but somehow you found your way, here, to have your family and what a massive positive impact that had.

You didn’t have to do that.

2. Education

Dad, you were a good dad.

You spent a lot of money for a first class education for me and for Kath at Lakeside, then at Stanford and at Harvard.

You didn’t have to do that.                                                

3. High Expectations

Dad, you were a good dad.

Our whole lives you set the highest expectations for us. You always presumed, and you always communicated, that my sister and I could and would excel, which, of course, helped us do just that.

You didn’t have to do that.

4. Travel

Dad, you were a good dad.

When Kath and I were kids, you and mom took us all over the world. We traveled to over a dozen countries in Europe and Asia before we were even out of high school. 

You didn’t have to do that.

Chapter 2

STORIES

5. Sailing

Dad, you were a good dad.

With, I believe, a starting push from mom, you decided that, despite having never done it before, despite having never even seen it before, sailing was a thing to get into. What a rich life that opened up.

On one hand I remember the racing:

I remember the sailboat racing, sometimes in a storm, sometimes in the dark. Big boat Sailboat racing in the dark? Are you kidding me?We were often so close we could reach out and touch other moving boat.

These races that would last a whole day, and sometimes two.

I thought that was the greatest thrill. What an incredible thing to do growing up as a family.

And on the other hand, I remember the sailboat cruising. Somehow this was even better:

Growing up every summer we had multi-week adventures taking the boat up way into. Canada. This was greatest thrill as a kid. This was real exploring.

You and mom couldn't just look up what something looked like on YouTube. Before we went someplace, a remote location was just a pin on a paper chart, maybe a small paragraph in a guide book and if you were lucky, a single grainy black and white photo.

It felt like we were travelling together to the far ends of the earth.

I loved that beyond words.

Learning to work the boat.

Learning boating, sailing, navigating, how read wind and tides.I was so proud of that.

I remember heavy weather, calm weather. I remember big waters that would toss our boat and have us holding on, lots of spray, waves breaking over the boat.

I remember calm water. The thrill of anchoring in remote, lonely coves of Vancouver Island, cooking dinner together on the boat and watching the sun slowly go down and the stars slowly come out, just us on the boat, with no one else around.

And waters so calm that at night at anchor we could pick out constellations reflected in the water.                                          

Most incredibly, what I never anticipated, is that I could someday use those same skills you gave me and now lead similar adventures with my own family and friends.

Just 2 weeks ago we were on the boat crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca making our way back home. On a lazy afternoon sail across the Straight, the sun was out, blue skies, a gentle westerly pushing us along at silent 4-5 knots nearly flat water, sparkling water, only a gentle Pacific swell.

Just us on the sailboat and no one else in sight as far as we could see. Just us, water, and the Olympic mountains off in the distance. It felt like we were living in our own postcard.                                  

But out of nowhere, all by ourselves, we came across a pod of grey whales feeding and, very unofficially, we sailed right through them.

So now we're silently sailing in the sun through a pod of these massive animals all around us.

What a privilege to watch these things around us. Then, suddenly, one of these magnificent beasts, bigger than the boat, came by to check us out. It slid right by us, just under the water, so close to us that if the whale had had cleats on it we could have tied off to the thing. This massive shadow ghosting by us. Unbelievable. Just us, the water, the sun, the boat, and massive grey whales.

Dad, I got to share that moment with my family, because of the skills I learned from you.

You didn’t have to do that.

6. Skiing

Dad, you were a good dad.

I can’t speak at your service without talking about our Canadian cat ski trips.

I remember our very first trip, decades ago, one January. you made it very clear it was a special, expensive treat, but you were going to go a little bit overboard for my birthday and we were going on a one time cat ski trip. Well, just that year alone we made two more cat ski trips and then after that we averaged 3 trips a year for nearly 20 years.

The skiing was often great. We would start together on the knife edge of a remote peak or we'd slide through some remote forest glade like living in a postcard. Our small group the only humans in a whole snowy mountain range.

We’d swoop down through pristine, sparkling, untouched white powder snow. Surfing on our skis, just off the surface of the earth. Hovering just off the ground, falling nearly weightless, we were close to being gods as you can get. And we’d talk and talk. But sometimes, every few years, it was beyond that. I'd get to the bottom of a run, I’d swoop down, check up, I'd look up and see you’d swoop down next to me, check up and the skiing was SO GOOD.

We turn to each other in silence and we’d lean back, we’d lean forward, and we’d just start laughing our asses off. There was nothing we could say. We’d laugh our asses off. What we just came down, what we just did TOGETHER, we could not describe. Could not have been real. We felt love, we felt joy. We felt very… very… very… lucky.

I miss that deeply

Dad, you didn’t have to do that.

Dad, you were a good dad.

But here’s the the crazy thing - there was something else - something unexpected …

These were remote places, deep in the Canadian mountains difficult to get to, no reasonable airports nearby. Big drives - 10, 12, 14 hours in a car, each way. We often had to leave at 4:30 in the morning to get to our pickups.

Beefy drives - Often in big winter snowstorms. We would often slide around - hard to see the road and we'd count spun out cars until we lost count. We did love the storm driving.

So these long drives are the price to pay for the trips, right? No - Dad, I told this to many others, I should tell this to you too: As much as the skiing was awesome, I looked forward to our road trips even more.

The first few hours were always dark and quiet, but, we'd cross the border, the grey winter sun comes up, we start remote driving, and the comments and stories would start.

Dad, I was in my 30's when we started this and it was on these road trips when I finally met you not just as "my Dad", but as a clever, observant, competitive and funny funny person.

I learned a lot about life, work, people, you, .... mom. And funny ass comments about the crazy stuff we would see along the way.

Dad, stuck in the car with you for 12 hours at a time was never stuck in the car. My secret became that the skiing, as good as it often was, turned into kind of an excuse for our road trips there and back

Lest anyone today think I'm making any of this up, let me read to you the last text message I got from my Mom this morning:

Mom Patton
11:58 am

I have been thinking about your father. He enjoyed skiing with you so much but what he really treasured was the long car rides with the discussions.

All these trips with you - I felt so lucky to be able to do this. We… were… clearly… cheating… at… life… I felt so so lucky on these trips with you I envied nobody.

7. Presence

Dad, you were a good dad.                                                          

As I left home of course I started to see the world with a wider lens.

Growing up I thought all families spent lots of time together and all families travelled and did adventures together, all families were these tight little unitsnot… that… every… single… family… moment… was.. rosy… but were were a tight family unit.

It wasn't until I got to college and beyond that I realized many families, maybe most families, don't have all of this, or even some of this, or even any of this at all.

I slowly realized that not everyone had this: Not all Dads were always there. Not all Dads were primarily interested in their kids or had interwoven their lives with their kids'. Not all Dads idea of a perfect day was to do cool incredible shit with their kids all day.

 Dad, the more I saw, the more I realized NOT how lucky we happened to be, but how lucky you made us.                                        

You didn’t have to do that.

8. Stability

Dad, you were a good dad.

Towards the end of your career you loved to joke: "For the last 40 years, I've had same job, same house, same wife, and same car"

You'd joke about this, but you were also proud, and you should have been. It speaks to the rock stable foundation that you provided the absolute rock stability you gave us your whole life - something more valuable than anything you could ever hold in your hand

You didn’t have to do that.

Chapter 3

IMPACT TO OTHERS

9. Impact to Others

Dad, you were a good dad.

Towards the end of your life, when you visited Northwest Hospital, not as a doctor, not as a leader, but as a patient I was shocked by the number of people who showed up to visit your room, not in any official capacity, but just to drop by on their own time to speak to the positive impact that you had on their lives and careers.

People I never met would come up to me, and, on the side, and say “Dr. Patton was your Dad? Dr. Patton really helped me”  Dr. Patton was a wonderful college”. Dr. Patton was a wonderful boss”

This is dumb as hell, but until I heard that, it never occurred to me that the same attention and joy you gave us, your immediate family, you also gave to others, at your workplace of over 40 years.

You didn’t have to do that.

10. MMT

Dad, you were a good dad.

You had a fine career, no need for more. But in your spare time you thought carefully about a long term health care problem that had long been accepted and even ignored by everyone - Blood culture false positives. A massive problem, a problem everyone else in the world had essentially given up on improving.

You came up with a hypothesis to fix this. You tested your hypothesis and your hypothesis was right.

You started a company and your innovation has saved tens of thousands of lives and counting.

The crazy thing is there are thousands of people still alive today because of you. People who never met you. People who didn’t know their lives were saved by you. People who didn’t even know their lives were saved.

All because you sat in your office way back when , thought about a problem that everyone else just accepted and wondered if there wasn’t maybe a better way 

You didn’t have to do that.

11. Glenn’s Tribute

Dad, you were a good dad.

Dad, as I wrap this up, one final short story.

You need to hear about a recent tribute fittingly, from someone you never met.

Glenn is a family friend of ours. He's another dad. He's the father of one of Fauss and Harris’ best friends and someone we often vacation with. He's also the CEO of a well known public company so he's familiar with talent and he's a deliberate and serious person.

Over the years I have shared many stories about you with Glenn and when he learned that you had passed, Glenn said he was very sorry that he had never met you and that he was DEEPLY grateful to you because of the many things that I had passed on to him that I had learned from you and that he had then applied to his own family many of the gifts you had given your family had clearly flowed through to his and Glenn has enjoyed many treasured family moments of his own - in his home, on the water, in the car, in the mountains because of skills and guidance that can be traced directly to you.

You didn’t have to do that.

12. Ending

Dad, you were a good dad.

No one encouraged you to go to college. No one encouraged you to go to medical school. No one encouraged you to even leave town. 

Yet you came here and accomplished all this and, with no one to follow, you jumped in and pioneered ALL these things. For your family and for people you never even met.

What you gave us will continue to echo on and bounce around amongst us. To direct family.To extended family. To friends and to friends of friends. Even long after everyone can trace exactly where all this came from.

In your spirit, I’d like to pass on to my audience today a simple reminder:

Do good work. And do the things you want to do, with the people you enjoy.

Good job Dad.

You crushed it.

Read by Judy Schultz, Minister

Corinthians 13: 1-13

​If I speak in the tongues of humans and of angels but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. 

​3 If I give away all my possessions and if I hand over my body so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

​4 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs; 6 it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. 7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

​8 Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. 9 For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part, 10 but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. 

​11 When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. 12 For now we see only a reflection, as in a mirror, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. 

​13 And now faith, hope, and love remain, these three, and the greatest of these is love.

Selected verses from John 14: 1-3, 18, 27

​[Jesus said to his dearest friends,]“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. 

​2 In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?

​ 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.

​18 “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. 19 In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. 

​27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. 

Prayer

from the UMC Service of Death and Resurrection

O God, who gave us birth,
you are ever more ready to hear
than we are to pray.
You know our needs before we ask,
and our ignorance in asking.

Give to us now your grace,
that as we shrink before the mystery of death,
we may see the light of eternity.

Speak to us once more
your solemn message of life and of death.

Help us to live as those who are prepared to die.

And when our days here are accomplished, enable us to die as those who go forth to live,
​​so that living or dying, our life may be in you, and that nothing in life or in death will be able to ​​​separate us from your great love

​​​in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Amen