Which Pat did you know?  The precocious second grader who with genuine concern (And a little self awareness) wrote a letter to the principal questioning him if he was certain he was paying his devoted secretary enough money.  "She really does work so hard you know..."

Or the spirited, courageous 6th grader who single handedly organized a strike against a teacher when she felt an unjust circumstance merited such a brazen act.

Or the young lady who rode a horse to school if for no other reason than to prove to all unbelievers Montana law required schools to provide a hitching post for students on horseback.

Did you know the actress?  The orator?  The author of short stories worthy of publication?  The singer of Broadway tunes?  The lover of Katherine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy, Mickey Mouse, purple, double entendres and just about anything Pearl cooked.  Were you one of the lucky few who knew the beautiful auburn headed lass who loved to dance on the weekends and feel her hair in the wind as she jockeyed the swings with her dear, dear friend under the protective outstretched arms of their favorite tree?

Maybe you knew the scholar from Bozeman who made history by being bestowed with the un-heard of honor of keynote speaker at her own graduation.

Or the fierce competitor on the basketball court where she wheeled her chair across the gymnasium floor as skillfully as any of her testosterone filled buddies.

Pat was the sum total of all these colorful characters.  A brilliant mind that could argue with equal persuasion both sides of an argument.  A passionate defender of the rights of all souls, especially of the less fortunate or forgotten ones.  But, most of all, Pat was a loyal friend who wanted nothing more than to be needed and loved.

Pat was also a dichotomy of terms.  Humble in her existence but proud of her past.  Forgiving of weaknesses but ever adminished herself for her own...even though she was the most righteous person.  Loving but equally passionate in an argument.  Unbendable in her beliefs but always pushing me to the boundaries of my own.  Accepting the day long physical agony that was so much a part of her life.  But reprimanding others for risking even the slightest possible injury.  She was a Scrabble playing self proclaimed "Verbavore", a lover of words whose own body betrayed her and robbed her of speech.

So, how does one describe our friend and do justice to all the Pat's?  Incorporate all the complexities of her dynamic personality?

In the end, Sylvester the Cat....who adorned the red pin perched on Pat's bedroom curtain said it best...."There is no Pat answer".

A quote from a prayer that Pat wrote and kept by her bed at all times.  It opens:

"God, save me from the mundane.  Let me never fear the power of exultation or suppress my desire to express and share joy.  May I never forget the chance of discovery that is in each moment.  What I seek I shall find."