Patrick Rodgers

The world was fortunate enough to have Patrick Rodgers with us for 70 years, 10 months and 1 day, although it was far too short. He was a man of exceedingly generous spirit, always finding the good in others, in situations, in life. Until the end, he remarked how fortunate he was, they were, to have the life they had. Pat lived with pancreatic cancer for 27 months, a very long far-too-short time, but his life was defined by so much more. If you have ever met a person more kind, generous, gracious, funny, and positive, then you are fortunate, indeed.

He was born in Akron, Ohio, in 1949, and moved to Los Angeles at age 4. He attended Cleveland High School in the San Fernando Valley, and then UCLA, where he earned a bachelor’s degree in zoology, and a master’s degree in biology. He married a wonderful woman, Anne Sheridan, a.k.a. “the first Anne,” in 1972, and they put each other through school. They had several wonderful years together before going their separate ways. During his years in LA, he was active in the YMCA, first as a camper and then as a leader. He taught high school science and math. He loved those kids. They loved him. In 1984, he moved on from teaching high schoolers to training adults in computer technology, eventually becoming a computer programmer/analyst himself, until he retired in 2016.

In LA, he met Ann Snapp at a party and, although he tried to believe he was not smitten, it was clear that he was. After a trip up to Griffith Observatory to see Haley’s Comet, which went unseen because of the rarest of LA clouds, he proposed on the school bus on the way back down the hill. There is probably a metaphor here for their lives together: a life of learning and doing together, and blazing, endless, steady, unflashy love.

Pat and Ann moved from LA to Ann Arbor in 1993, with their young daughter Emily, in search of a life with less driving and more living. This is the life they found, and helped to build, in their neighborhood on Ann Arbor’s west side. Pat adored his family and would rather be with them than anywhere else in the world. He was a wonderful parent and spouse, spending many happy hours with Ann and Emily, talking, laughing, cooking, bicycling, ice skating, skiing (of all sorts), doing house projects, planning menus, traveling far and near, going to Emily’s soccer games and plays and concerts, picnicking in the backyard, sitting near each other reading, being together, happy.

Pat was often seen around Ann Arbor, and rarely without Ann. They were regulars at Top of the Park, eating breakfast at Bell’s, hanging out with their neighbors, and dancing every Friday night at Live. Pat lived by the principle that every person matters, and that we can each help to make the world a better place. Living his convictions, he volunteered with many organizations, including the YMCA, Christic Institute, Michigan Peaceworks, and Huron River Watershed Council. They were regulars at rallies, marches, and seeking petition signatures. He wore a pink hat.

Pat loved discussing the events of the day and our place in the world, and was always eager to listen and learn about others’ lives, and to weigh in with his thoughtful perspective, grounded in his deep sense of fairness, equality and hope. Pat, Ann and Emily were active in AFS and, through that organization, hosted many exchange students over the years, who became beloved family members in their own right. Pat loved drawing each of them out, learning about their lives, experiences, perspectives, hopes and dreams; he listened carefully, supported well, guided when needed, connected deeply, and laughed freely. Pat loved kids, and was especially good with high schoolers, who loved him back (see high school teacher, above).

Pat loved having people over for dinner, because he loved people, and he loved dinner. He was a gracious host, making sure everyone had a drink and an appetizer, while he and Ann created their amazing dinners of multiple, scrumptious dishes and sauces, and engaging conversation. Pat kept his kitchen knives sharpened, wooden bowls oiled, and cast iron pans properly seasoned. He used their warming drawer regularly, to the envy of many. Pat found joy in making food for his many friends and extended family, and we, the lucky recipients of his kitchen prowess, found joy in eating his many amazing dishes. He accepted gifts of wine with a joke about its price; friends learned to doctor the price label in advance to earn his laugh, which was freely given. He did not, however, keep jalapeno mustard in their well-appointed pantry. We don’t know why.

Pat loved corny jokes, and always had one at the ready. Just a single joke at a time, which he practiced repeatedly, told over and over, and no one ever tired of hearing. Here’s a Pat classic: “Why did the mushroom go to the party? Because he’s a fun guy. Why did the fungi leave the party? Because there wasn’t mush room.” 

Pat loved to dance, and was often seen doing so around Ann Arbor; Pat and Ann would always be among the first to get onto any dance floor that presented itself. He took ballroom dancing lessons and used them well. Pat taught his nieces how to ballroom dance, and didn’t even complain when they stepped on his toes. They would ask to come cook with him, because who wouldn’t want to cook with Pat? Together, they would chop and mince and dance around the kitchen.

In addition to cooking and dancing, he loved woodworking, traveling, growing vegetables, going to the gym, progressive politics, penguins, his beloved wife Ann, and their daughter Emily, probably not in that order. He was willing to try anything new, and he threw himself whole-cloth into learning whatever he needed to know to do the new thing properly. And then he would do it, precisely, carefully, thoughtfully, meticulously, perfectly. He recycled, he ate organic. Pat always, always voted. He was looking forward to casting his vote of hope for a new and better day in November.

The world is better for having had Pat in it. He was a man of peace, goodwill, and humility, despite his many talents. Pat saw the good in everyone, and came to the world with a generosity of spirit and kindness, and quiet, gentle, strength that is an inspiration to us all. He will be greatly missed.

For now, please keep your memories of Pat, and your thoughts of his family, in your hearts. When the world opens up again, when our current scourges are banished and we have a reason to celebrate once more, perhaps there will be a memorial in his honor, and we can all come together in the spirit of hope, peace, and inspiration that Pat embodied. Until then, do this for Pat: vote.

Contributions in honor of Pat’s life can be made to Huron River Watershed Council (hrwc.org).