Patty wouldn’t understand this allusion to the Rolling Stones song I used to title this blog. It would come out a year after her death. It’s not a great song. I’ve never been a Stones fan. But I can give it this. I agree with this post on a site dedicated to figuring about the meaning of lyrics “They are vulnerable and honest words from the weary singer of the song.” And it scores points for having Sonny Rollins playing at the end of the song.
But this is what these words mean to me. I received a response on my blog recently from someone who knew Patty at Saint Vincent De Paul (the private Catholic school Patty attended before she started going to Marina Junior High). Although the response doesn’t use the word itself, I’m going to use it. She was a friend.
Comment: Hi,
I went to SVDP with Patricia Vance and was her friend until she left in 6th grade I think? I also grew up in the City. Thanks for researching her murder. I still remember finding out about it in the paper. I have looked a few times to see if there was any new information and this is the first thing I have found (this decade). I saw her brother Harold at a Giants game about 15-20 years ago when he was working for the police department. I know she had a little brother also. Anyway, thanks for the research.
Of course I wrote her back.
Dear XXX,
I am so appreciative that you took the time to make contact with me. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to talk more with me about Patty. I long for any remembrances of her. I tried to contact Harold but was totally unsuccessful. But when I went to Patty’s burial site and tried to get a tombstone put down on her grave, a year later I saw that he had done that himself. So that was an amazing outcome. I am planning on visiting it this summer. And, yeah, she had a little brother John. I’ve tried to make contact with him as well with no luck. She also had a son, Maurice, and that search turned up nothing.
Anyway, I’d love to hear some anecdotes about your years at SVDP along with any other memories you have. But I realize it’s a big ask.
And, she responded. I was elated. She responded almost immediately:
I have no problem sharing what I remember with you. It might take me a few days but I will gather some memories and get back to you.
I shot off my thoughts about how we’d do this. My idea was to talk over the phone. I’d ask if I could record her memories, and if she said yes, I’d transcribe them for the book. I’d offer to let her remain anonymous. That’s why I’m not revealing her name. Because although I hoped we’d be able to talk the following weekend – two weeks ago now, I never heard from her.
I can’t blame her in a way. And I toyed with the idea of sending her my questions and see if she’d be willing to answer them in writing instead. I’ll take memories in whatever form I can get them.
It feels uncomfortable to ask someone for their memories. It’s almost parasitic. But I got over that hurdle fortunately. But I’m not the type of person to be pushy. If and when this friend is ready. I’ll be waiting.
