Her parents had her married by age 13. She bore three sons. She visited Geneva with her husband in 1949, and in 1956 they moved to Geneva for good when her husband was recruited by the ILO. Not end of story.
Her middle son died in his twenties in a tragic car accident, her eldest son died in the US at age 47 leaving a wife and two young daughters. Patti outlived her husband by decades. She lived with her youngest son and daughter-in-law, who died in her fifties of cancer; her youngest son (my good friend) went totally blind. Patti was there for her family and there for friends. The household was warm and open to friends from all over.
Patti loved to dance. And to teach. She taught dance, she taught a bit of Tamil. Patti loved to read, all kinds of books and the international press. Patti loved the Indian soaps. Patti loved to cook, her vegetarian cuisine was legendary. Patti loved to knit and did so any time her hands weren’t busy working at something else. Patti loved to hang out with people, and listened with interest and compassion and responded with frankness and intelligence. Her grandchildren adored her. Her great-grandchildren adored her. We all did.
She was one cool lady.
