9:43AM SUNDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2011
In Memoriam: Miss Pat

Pat Layton died on Friday. For anyone who might have just happened to see her in passing, she might seem a non-descript person; worked a receptionist job at a community music school, not wealthy, not glamorous at all. But Miss Pat, as she was known by all who did know her, had an enormously positive impact on their lives who got to experience her.

Miss Pat worked at the front desk of the Music School of Delaware (formerly the Wilmington Music School), where she answered phones, checked on room availability, and took the 75 cents apiece for the snacks at the desk, among a host of other things. Her real job there, though, seemed to be carer-in-chief. In a building always full of a ton of kids ages 1 through 80 (most of the adult amateur musicians there have a wonderful, youthful zeal for their music making), Pat knew them all. And she didn’t just know their names, she knew about them - their personalities, the little things that made them happy or sad, and the right thing to say when they were happy or sad. She was generous to a fault, giving little gifts or even money to kids for a holiday or birthday, even when she herself barely made enough money to make ends meet.

I’ve spent, and continue to spend, a lot of time at that music school: my wife works there, my kids all take lessons, music theory and play in ensembles there, and my quartet rehearses there a lot. Miss Pat’s absence since getting sick (she lost her battle to Cancer) has felt like a huge hole for all of us; her successors are delightful people who do good work, but Miss Pat is irreplaceable. I always knew that my kids were looked after and cared for in this nurturing environment, and as a parent, this was a wonderful gift. She would talk to my daughters for long stretches while they stood and colored at her desk, often helping them deal with whatever drama of the day had thrown them for a loop, and she even occasionally got my son to smile in public (if you’ve ever met him, you realize that this is no small feat). She always greeted me with a smile and a hello that was as warm as any hug; it was one of the moments I always looked forward to on Monday mornings when I showed up for quartet rehearsal.

In our culture, we spend a lot of time canonizing and speaking of famous people: world leaders, celebrities, athletes. But the real heroes in our lives usually receive too little of this attention and praise, until they’re gone and someone writes a nice obituary piece about them. Miss Pat meant more to me and my family, and countless other families, than any famous person ever has or will. I think she knew that, and so many of us let her know it. I only wish our world made more room to celebrate the Miss Pats in our lives while they’re still with us.

Modified 9:44am Sunday, December 18, 2011