Happy Birthday Pat!!!

Germany 2009

“Green Grocer” by Tobias (at Dallmayer's in München)

At one point during our two-week stay with Pat’s friends in Germany, we were sitting in a drenching rain at the Seehaus in the Englischer Garten in München, one of Pat and Tobi’s favorite bier gartens. The large green tents, brightened with beer stein chandeliers and strings of beer stein lights, were crammed with people escaping the down pour. We counted a thundering crack about a second after bright lightening. A father on the lake was madly rowing his children to safety. I was sitting nearest the edge of the tent, and Libby tried to shield me with her scarf. We huddled there for an hour or more, unable to move. No one was giving up his seat under the crowded tents until finally the storm dulled to medium strength. We dined on the world’s best beer and cheese. We watched an older couple share an umbrella. “I don’t care what it does,” I said. “We’re here together, and that’s all that matters.” We looked at each other in agreement and toasted “prost.” The moment captured the mood of the trip, the high points of which were nonstop. Most were recaptured in the pictures that follow. Others bear special mention:

• My cousin Avery putting me up the night before leaving and getting me to the airport so Bob did not miss his softball game (nobody plays left field like he does). No problem even though she and her family were leaving for Israel the day after.

• Joe taking time off from work to meet us at Tegel and waiting an hour for our—actually, my--bag. Libs and Linds know how to travel light.

• Joe and Tibor giving us the biggest bedroom in their apartment, which was a half hour walk through the Tiergarten to the Reichstag. A HALF HOUR!

• Tibor shepherding us to the VIP section of the Christopher Street parade (mit free drinks und food) and explaining to the Mayor of Berlin how he had once introduced Patrick, and now he was introducing his mother. TO THE MAYOR! DER BÜRGERMEISTER! (More on this, the trip, and other Pat thoughts are in process.)

• Joe’s father hosting me in his van, at a Brück horse show, with cheese and three kinds of homemade sausage on top of dark, dense bread.

• Tibor rescheduling his singing rehearsal and Steve rushing from work to meet us at the Stanford Center for a few words for and by Pat.

• Karen bringing me to watch her ride her lovely dressage horse. Heavy Berlin traffic cut it short, and anybody who rides knows that is not good.

• Steve treating us to dinner and then staying up endless hours with Joe and Tibor to translate Pat’s German text messages, the last communications before he died.

• Joe and Tibor getting our train tickets to München and then hauling suitcases (well, maybe just mine) to get there on time.

• Tobi, surprising us by jumping on the train two stops before München then navigating the U-Bahn to get us to our pension within walking distance of everything München. EVERYTHING!

• Tobi, guiding us to everything Patrick for the next nine days. NINE!

• Dr. Heidrun Belzner, from BMW, showing us where Pat worked and explaining for several hours why he was “the best intern we ever had.”

• Wolf-Dietrich Junghanns, from the Stanford Center, putting me in touch with Heidrun.

• Tobi, renting a car and then driving us to his home town of Missen, two hours southwest of München in the Allgåu, the greenest, and most old-lady accessible and cow-covered mountains in the world. Check out my iCow movie, which doesn’t do them justice.

• Tobi’s aunt and uncle, preparing the same pork meal as Pat’s even though it wasn’t normally available that day.

• Tobi’s Neuschwanstein and hiking plans getting rained out nearly every day.

• Tobi’s Neuschwanstein plans, magnificent, even in the rain.

• Joe, Tibor, Christian, Steve, Karen, and Tobi, answering our endless questions; enduring our (my) terrible pronunciations; repeating untold directions; protecting, guiding, and hand-holding every step of the way; driving us from and to airports, train stations, rental cars; and being genuinely, overly grateful for the puny little meals we bought. Are these the greatest friends known to mankind?

• Libs and Linds hauling my embarrassingly large suitcase and my anchor weighted backpack, and most luxuriously, bringing me breakfast every morning in Bavaria. They graciously tolerated my old-lady presence every step of the way. I could not have made the trip without them.

• And most importantly, Woody taking over full-time farm management for two weeks, which involved feeding a horse who throws grain everywhere. TWO WEEKS!

I tried to cut out enough pictures to make them manageable for the blog, but there were just too many good ones. They show the high points better than words. They may look like a travelogue more than revisiting Pat places, but they felt right and fit the mood at the time. Thanks for checking them out on the site I created to accommodate all of them. Of special note are the pictures by Tobi. He’s going for an art degree, and if these pictures are any indication, he has an incredible future in that field. He has the talent, and more importantly, he has the heart. He, and everyone who knew Pat in Germany, set the standard for surviving suicide. They walked hand-in-hand with us through some tears, some laughs, some toasts, and some silence. They gave us Pat’s Germany, as he would have done had he been alive. They extended their friendship to him and gave it to his entire family. It was nothing short of life giving to Libby, Lindsay, and me.

For the Germany 2009 pics, the site is:  

file:///Users/lrimer/Dropbox/Public/Germany%202009%20site/Germany_2009/Photos.html



For great cowbell music, check out iCows, the movie.

Continuing Tributes

I've been remiss in posting some files, so here's is an overdue roundup of "Pat News."

• Tobi Bader, a friend from Germany, created a pdf last fall, which all who loved Pat and question suicide should see. It is a searching and artistic triumph. You should be able to click on each of the pictures to enlarge them and read the text. For those who would like the full size pdf, which is even more beautiful, email me at: mlrimer@earthlink.net.

• At about the same time as Tobi's "Autumn," Libby designed a t-shirt in honor of her and Pat's birthday, October 29th. Germanophiles like Pat will recognize the background. But if you don't, you'll have to go to Berlin and pose in front of the Reischstag like Pat did, uncomplaining but clearly tired, for his grandparents (my father and Anne) after he'd been up most of the night clubbing. I think Tibor and Joe had something to do with that.

Lib with Pat's shirt

Pat and vorm Reischstag spring 2004 before lunch in the dome with his grandfather and Anne.

• Pat had the honor of being memorialized on Helpguide.com, a mental health awareness site created by friends of my father, Mr. and Dr. Robert Siegle. Their daughter Morgan also committed suicide and they have been dedicated ever since to mental health awareness. It's an impressive site with up-to-date research and medical articles. You can visit Pat's memorial at: http://www.helpguide.org/memorials.htm

• And finally, in honor of Pat and other students who worry about being different for any reason, I started a Safe Place program (actually, it's more a state of mind) at my school. My friend Nora Robbins designed the poster,

and I addressed the school with remarks, which I'll include shortly. For the most part the response was terrific. Many teachers and students appreciated the point that most gay students are afraid of school because it's still acceptable to discriminate against them and that they should be treated as courteously and respectfully as anyone else no matter what your beliefs.

Pat's mom

“Twenty-Three”

Andrew and DJ at Amoeba, March 12, 2009

Andrew (aka MC Lars) wanted to include the mp3 file along with some of his thoughts in writing it, but Mike Love (creator of this blog) and I were unable to upload it, so here is the link again if you haven't yet heard Pat's song:

http://mclars.com/mp3s/albums/2009%20-%20tgrk/08%20Twenty-Three.mp3

Libby, Lindsay (Lib’s girlfriend), and I had the amazing luck to see Andrew and DJ (another Pat friend from Stanford) perform it at Amoeba Records on Haight St. in San Francisco in March. As sad as we were about Pat, Andrew and DJ were a total lift. Every song was fabulous, even to an aging mother whose penchant for loud music has waned. Not this time. “Post-punk laptop rap” is my new favorite. Check out Andrew’s web site for his tour schedule:

http://mclars.com/news.php

I’d love to see him in Berlin. Pat’s clubs would be a perfect venue.
Most importantly, check out Andrew’s article in the San Francisco Chronicle March 9, 2009. He talks openly about “Twenty-three” and his music in general:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/03/09/DD8U16B5RI.DTL

Andrew is no lightweight opportunist as the term rap might imply. His version is “hip-hop that’s not afraid to be smart.” If a kid “wants to read Hamlet afterward, then that’s a bonus.”

From hip-hop to Hamlet? It’s true. He makes the connection. Check it out. A movie of the Amoeba performance, which I hope to post, will be forthcoming in May.

Pat's mom


Andrew on “Twenty-Three”

"It was a moving experience to record this track and I still feel sad every time I go back and listen to it. For me it's the end of the second verse that resonates when I listen to the song again, remembering when I saw Pat's room and his freshman yearbook. I wrote and rewrote the song many times over the past year. That I was able to find a way to express how everything made me feel but also be musically engaging was rewarding and has helped me heal... and I hope it will serve the same for others. Pat was an awesome friend and roommate."

"Twenty-three" by MC Lars

Dear Pat People ,

Andrew Nielson (MC Lars), a roommate of Pat's at Stanford, has written a song, which he wanted to share. It's part of his latest album This Gigantic Robot Kills, which has been well reviewed thanks in large part to "Twenty-Three," the song he wrote for Pat. Check out this review, which Andrew sent to me: http://changetherecord.net/2009/01/18/mc-lars-this-gigantic-robot-kills-2/

The album is available on Amazon, but "Twenty-Three" can be downloaded at this link courtesy of Andrew:

http://mclars.com/mp3s/albums/2009%20-%20tgrk/08%20Twenty-Three.mp3

"Twenty-Three" is a lovely tribute, beautifully written and produced. Andrew has dignified the life and death of Pat in an intimate and eloquent way. Please join me in congratulating him for his artistry, and join me also in supporting him by purchasing the album on Amazon.

All my gratitude, Andrew,

Pat's mom

Pat at Stanford

"Twenty-Three"

lyrics by MC Lars

music by James Bourne



I don't sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death



Down the hall, there's a kid that I know

He's kind of quirky so I say hello

He's so sarcastic but he's always right

Working on those problem sets late into the night

Mad magazines sit piled by his bed

A million brilliant thoughts going all through his head

We bike to class in the autumn rain

He tells me that he's fine but I know he's in pain

Pat I miss you dude it's so hard to say goodbye

In Europe last winter you were tired of the lie

Monoxide in the bathroom but the door was locked

We were always there for you, you could have called and talked

I felt guilty and alone and so sick when I discovered

You did it in Berlin, you'd just talked to your mother

I guess it was too much, depression disillusion

Maybe suicide's an answer, but it wasn't the solution



CHORUS:

And I wish that you hadn't done it

Could have won it and moved on from it

And we could have grown old together

But instead you'll always be 23.... 23.



We sat together one night on El Camino

On the bench by the bus stop hiding from El Nino

You told me your secret I just sat there in shock

You couldn't tell your parents, you couldn't break that lock

Cognitive dissonance, trapped in your shell

Depression and regression made your life a living hell

The pain was too intense, the fence too strong to break

So you went to Germany, it was too much to take

You came back broken hearted distracted by the dream

The worlds collided now, college wasn't what it seemed

You went to back to Berlin to find yourself once more

They broke down the door and found you lying on the floor

I took the Amtrak up the coast, your mom met me at the station

I went to see your house and photos of your graduation

We drove to your grave, no tombstone where you lay

Your freshmen yearbook's by your bed and your room's in disarray



CHORUS



(vocal samples recorded spring 2003)



Lars: Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet a good friend of mine, this is Patrick Wood!

Pat: What's up Lars?

Lars: What's up Pat?

Pat: How you doing man?

Lars: Good. What do you think of me having my recording equipment take up three quarters of our small room in the Kimball dorm?

Pat: It's no problem man, I love you.

Lars: I love you too Pat.

Pat: Thanks Lars.

Lars: Pat Wood! Hey that's you.

Pat: (Sarcastic laughter)



CHORUS:

And I wish that you hadn't done it

Could have won it and moved on from it

Now we'll never grow old together

But you're in my memory, 23... 23.



Suicide sucks.

Year Three

~A place for Patrick,

in the city he loved~

Patrick Wood, 1982~2006

On Patrick's bench at the Stanford Center in Berlin.
Photo by Jutta Ley, Winter 2008

Dear Friends and Family of Pat,

Thank you for another year of cards, letters, well-wishes, and heartfelt thoughts. I have reread your Christmas cards and can't help but shake my head at the time you took to connect, especially when it was a connection miles away from a holiday celebration. I am not much farther along in understanding, but I am heartened that you continue to show support for someone no longer here but not gone. Just knowing that the ever-present paradox is shared works miracles. It's as if I handed my life over, and you rebuilt it. I guess that's one lesson with which I've come away: if you are lucky enough to be surrounded by good people, you can survive anything, even (as I anticipate) your own death.

I'll pass on a good quote by Ezra Pound from a steadfast cousin in Alaska. "A poem is a momentary stay against confusion." Meaning is rare and precious, but it does come from the greats who went before. They have endured all and steer with wisdom born of hardship and eloquence. I include your letters and kind deeds in that category. You have astounded with your tributes to Pat, including Andrew Nielson releasing a song he wrote called "Twenty-three;" Libby designing t-shirts to help with her reflections yesterday; Pomfret School awarding $1,000 to incoming freshmen in Pat's name. Last year, two incredibly talented students received it; Tobi creating a stunning pictorial essay of Berlin, which I hope he will not mind me including here :) ; Joe and Tibor sending birthday wishes on the blog; Jutta sending the picture of Pat's snow-covered plaque above; my cousin Karen calling regularly while her own sister was dying of breast cancer; and my cousin Polly starting a Day of Silence, a nationwide recognition that gay students must be silent about their identity. She started it in Pat's memory at her school in Long Island. I'm working on a similar program at my school.

And just when I think the list of kind deeds is finished, I remember that yesterday, as I was writing this note, my dear friend Nora came to say good bye to an old horse who will soon be underground with other equine friends at the top of our fields. At twenty-nine, he is older than Pat would have been. He has seen the comings and goings of our entire family. For most of those years he stationed himself to view the house. Neither dog nor fellow horse dared to obstruct his monitoring. And if he spotted you around feed time, he whinnied to remind you who came first. We had a good cry outside with him in the freezing January wind. We thanked him for the many thrills he had given us--thrills not entirely expected like walking over small trees to scratch his stomach, letting himself out of latched doors to roam and snack freely, finding food in pockets with a muzzle like an opposable thumb. That muzzle is now covered with incurable infection, and when the light in his eye grows dim, we will attempt to open the frozen ground one more time, much like we did for Pat three years ago.

Thank you as always for listening, reading, and writing. Your shared sadness pulls me out of the vacuum into which I descend to think about Pat.

All my love,

Lisette

Published by Pat's Dad in the Woodstock Villager 1~31~09