In Memory of My Mother, Patricia Ann Gottsch

Patricia Ann Gottsch was born May 3, 1938 to Robert and Evelyn Dodt in Phoenix, Arizona. The 4th of 10 children, she was a graduate of Holy Cross High School in Santa Cruz where she was Senior Class Vice President, candidate for Class Queen, member of the year book committee , recipient of various dance awards, and a member of the Holy Cross Sodality Club.
She met my father in 1957, through a friend who invited him to attend a Young Catholic Workers Conference in Santa Clara, California. It was there they became acquainted and began courting.
Not long after they were married, on December 27, 1958 and began to build their family of five, 3 boys and 2 girls.
Joe with his red hair, blue eyes and beautiful mind. Who once tried to ride his tricycle down our basement steps, is now a pilot, married to Kim and father of four. Patrick the gifted athlete, married to Stephanie, and father of four lovely daughters. Jeff the charmer, who stole the hearts of my grandmother and aunts, married to Cindy and father of five. Susie, our school teacher, married to Tim, and mother of two.
And of course myself – . . . . . . the free babysitter.
So what do you do as the mother of five, after you’ve made the school lunches, gone food shopping, washed all the clothes, broke up fights, wiped away tears, fixed the meals, given the baths and oversaw our nightly prayers? If you were Patty, you’d probably toss in another load of laundry and stay up late to watch Laugh-In, or Johnny Carson while matching mountains of socks. Or, maybe you’d sneak away to a weekly toll painting class at Maureen Strey ‘s.
As our mother, or course, I thought she was beautiful, with her blonde hair, petite size and “lipstick only” style? She was fun. She was authentic. And unless you knew her well, you wouldn’t know that under her sweet, mild exterior, she was a pistol, feisty, fun- loving and independent.
She was there for us. For our First Holy Communions, confirmations, high school and college graduations, our boyfriends and girlfriends and our marriages. My brothers and sisters may remember the famous guiding words she would shout from the porch as we left with our dates, “Remember, your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit”! This usually made for our safe and prompt return – well before the established curfew.
She was there for us. Our front door was always open – we did not need a key – because she was there, at home, out in the garden, down in the basement, or the kitchen fixing dinner.
She was there for us. In the summer she took us to Berkley Park, Sellwood Park, Creston Park and Oaks Park. On rainy days, she moved the furniture out of the way so we could roller skate in the house. And on snow days, she made buckets of hot chocolate and piles of buttery toast.
She adored children. She saw them all as angels. And she knew just how to handle them. I remember calling her on the telephone often when I first started babysitting. “Mom, the baby won’t stop crying, what should I do? Mom, the baby won’t take the bottle, what should I do? Mom, this diaper is over the top – PLEASE COME!
Raising children was second nature to her. While we were all at school, she would take in a few more babies and toddlers from the Holy Family neighborhood. She loved each and everyone one of them – and they loved her too, and commonly referred to her as, “Auntie Pat”.
She was there for us.
She was there for her friends too. Giving of her time to listen while they poured out their troubles and worries. She kept every confidence - and never turned them away.
She was a wonderful cook. Her cheese bread, canned peaches and pickles, thanksgiving dinner, holiday fudge, and tacos, were some of our family’s favorites.” And she was a gracious host, who welcomed anyone to share our table.
She was crazy about Christmas. Our house was the envy of any department store with decorations everywhere even the bathrooms, beautifully wrapped gifts that blanketed the living room and stockings filled with candy that would make a dentist smile. She would stay up till 3am with Dad wrapping gifts before laying her head on the pillow. She was there for us. And we were blessed.
Such self-giving would not have been possible without Mom’s strong undying faith. She was happy, and comfortable with God and with her faith. She did not worry terribly about the future. She knew that she was not alone and that our Father in Heaven was with her at all times. And this is exactly how she faced her journey through Alzheimer’s - with quiet consolation and amazing grace. Never was it more evident than in the manner of her dying. She was completely unafraid, often radiant with happiness, beaming at all the people she loved. And with her strong heart, she held on to every last bit of her substance, so we all could say good-bye.

May the memory of our mother, Patty, always be a blessing to those gathered with us today in body or in spirit. And may our Lord’s perpetual Light shine upon her.