So, I certainly think of Pat every day, many times a day and I sometimes wonder what it's like for others. Life has to go on but how often does he come up in your mind or in conversation. Well, I've found out first hand. On the show I'm working on, we needed a cameraman to fill in for a couple of weeks. What a great coincidence that John Leonetti was asked to be that person (In these picture, he's the one in the pretty yellow shirt on stage). He's known Pat for almost as long as I have and often this week has made passing comments about something Pat might have done or said and not just to me, to other crew...and so I realize that Pat really is a part of all of us who knew him, not fading but a bright colorful memory right up close. And he makes us laugh all the time.
Mom emailed me a story that Sally, Pat's son's wife wrote to her about Trinity, their little daughter (Known as T3 to Pat, the little girl in the photo). Here's what she wrote:
Trinity seems to bring up her Gramps often. She always points him out on the computer and has asked when she is going to get to see her Gramps. I told her when she goes to heaven but that probably won't be for a long time. She asked which heaven is he at, the one with our tortoise? I said yes, that's the only one. She asked, "Are they sitting down?" I said I wasn't sure but I bet Gramps was petting Hercules (our tortoise that went to heaven). I told her he was probably enjoying the balloon she lost in the sky the other day too!
My Aunt Fortune sent a note too:
Our lives are like poems.
Some are as short as haiku, others as long as epics filling many
volumes. Each is complete in ways we may not understand. That is a
comforting thought and I think it is a true one. Yet when we lose one
of our own, whether young or old, at the beginning of a career or at
the peak, we falter. It takes a while to see the poem when your eyes
are filled with tears.
Mom saw Pat's favorite Red Shirt in a store the other day. She said she would have gotten it for him had he still been here to wear it even if he said his was still in great shape. I suppose he will always be everywhere we go, something will always make us think of him and smile, remember.
Happy Sunday.
Love you Pat.
Xochi
Chuck Bateman says from Vermont (but lives in CA):
ReplyDeleteI wish we were gonna be here in August, I'll be in the Big City working (yuchh). I would love to go to Snowville for that. I keep up with your blog and everything I see about Pat. I find it all so meaningful and still so sad.
You said something about posting what I scribbled about Pat that time and I don't think I ever responded. It's Ok with me if you want to. (I did. :) )
And it IS true; I'm certain Pat's done tons of wonderful work and some cameraman or another got all the credit. We call it work, but Pat, and a lot of gaffers are artists, not just technicians or craftsmen. The beauty of light is something to behold and not just anyone can manipulate it in a way to enhance or change color, texture, depth, substance....tone, shade, darkness. It's a creative process that's often done on the fly and under the gun. And once its captured on film (or, yes, even digital media) it's there and you can't go back.
Wait, that's not really true anymore. The stuff they can accomplish in post is amazing. For example on some of my sitcoms the sound crew get into the show no matter what we do and mike shadows are erased every episode.
Wher did all that come from? What the hell?
I gotta go wrangle kids built a dock on the pond...........later...........topper........