Latest / Rittener Reflections / 17: Two lives. One legacy. A tribute to my parents, Patricia and Eric Rittener
Transcript
- Welcome to this special episode of Written Reflections. Today, I am going to step away from my usual format to share something deeply personal. Last month, my mom passed away peacefully at home surrounded by my sister and I. A few days later, I gave a talk at her memorial service, one that honored her faith, her family, and the things she loved most. I'll be sharing that recording with you in just a moment. But this episode is also about my dad, who passed away in March of 2022. His story deserves to be told with clarity and care. The original tribute I gave was done outdoors and the audio didn't hold up. So today I'm gonna rerecord it, not just to preserve his memory, but to reflect on the themes that shaped his life, his past, his patriotism, and his passions. And as I sit with both stories, I'm struck by a quiet truth. For the first time in my life, I'm without my parents. There's no one left to call, to ask, or to share a memory with. It's a strange kind of solitude. It's not lonely, but it's just sobering. This episode is my way of honoring them, and of marking the moment when memory becomes legacy and grief begins to turn into gratitude. Here's the talk I gave at my mom's memorial service last week. It's a reflection on her life, her faith, and the joy she brought to everyone around her. - Thank you, David. Good afternoon, everyone. I like David. I'd just like to say thank you so much for coming today to remember mom, to celebrate her life. She had a wonderful life. And I'm going to try to take in the next 10 minutes. So just kind of a snapshot and walk through her life. You know, I've been thinking a lot over the last couple of weeks about mom as we've been pouring through photos, as David said, and just my last days with mom and just reflecting. I found there are really three things that I think really define her. And those are her faith, her family, and her favorite things. But first let me share with you a bit of her story. Some of you may not know her background and her story. Mom was born on November 15, 1938 in Stockton, California. She was a fourth generation Californian. Her great-grandparents came to this golden state in the late 1800s. One great grandfather came from Ireland, and the other one came from Texas. She grew up in Stockton with her brother Tom and her sister Kathy, and they spent their teenage years in this brand new home that their family purchased just outside of Lodi, California. Summers were spent with her grandparents in Capitola, and then vacations, often time, were spent up in their cabin in the Arnold area. And I remember hearing many stories about their time at Arnold and the Cabin, stories about their adventures in the snow, stories about adventures with mice. Those memories stayed vivid with her and they became part of our family lore. You know, Stockton in the 1940s and 1950s was a small agricultural hub with a port to the Bay Area. And so her parents living in this small town, they ran a family business and they called it Ransom Painting. My grandfather probably painted half of Stockton. Mom graduated from Lodi High School in 1956, shortly thereafter she met my father, and they were married in January of 1959. Now, growing up, I never really thought my mom had an accent. Maybe you guys did, but I didn't. But one time, calling home from an extended time in Europe, I realized she has an accent. I think it's the Stockton accent. So I told her this, and she vehemently denied it. But I still chuckle whenever I'd hear her say, oh my gosh, I need to wash my hair, or I love to eat almonds. Later in 1959, she left the big central valley, and she moved to a new valley, specifically to Sunnyvale, California. At that time, it was mostly orchards producing dried and canned fruit. But it wasn't long before it became known as Silicon Valley, and home of a famous fruit company. That same year, she and my dad bought a home in a very small town called Cupertino. It was the first subdivision with an orchard across the street, and it was only what, four or five blocks from here? She actually amazingly lived on Orange Blossom Drive for more than 57 years. During that time, she witnessed the complete transformation of this valley, from fruits and nuts to chips and smartphones. But one thing never changed, and that was her view of the Cupertino Hills. She loved that view. In fact, in her final years at Morningstar, she had a room that looked out on those same hills. Mom was married for 28 years and she raised my sister Laura and I in that wonderful home on Orange Blossom Drive. She worked mostly evenings at Sears Row Buck, which was located where Santana Row is today. In fact, when I used to drive down Stevens Creek with her, I would look to the right and there was this huge long hole. You know what that was? That was Highway 280. At Sears, she worked in the Central Credit Department, eventually managing younger employees. One of them was Gus. Now Gus was a young man who later worked with me at Intel. And when he found out that Patricia was my mother, He lit up and he told me how much he enjoyed working for her. He actually said that she was the best boss and the nicest person he'd ever met. During those childhood years, Laura and I were truly blessed with a mother who was nurturing, wise, loving, and endlessly active. There was very little in our lives that wasn't part, she wasn't a part of, whether it was as playing sports, going to church, being in the scouts, and school activities. She even spent time with her friends. She was always present and always involved. Now after her divorce, the grandchildren began to come. And my mom embraced the role of grandmother with passion and dedication like no other. She was there for each one, always attentive, always loving and always ready to support them in her own unique way. And now I want to share three things that truly defined her. Her faith, family, and her favorite things. These themes shaped not only who she was, but how she touched all of us. So first her faith. Mom became a Christian around 1970. She was raised a Catholic and so she always knew about Jesus. But being a deeply curious person, she wanted to understand why some people spoke against Christ. With that inquisitive spirit, she began attending a neighborhood Bible study at the Holberg's house. It was during those gatherings that she saw the transformation in people's lives and and then ultimately she came to believe in the gospel herself. One verse which was etched into her well-worn Bible, settled everything for her. And that is Ephesians 2.13. It says, "But now in Christ Jesus, you who were once far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ." Shortly after, Mom shared the gospel with me and Laura and others in our family. Over the years, she completed the entire Bible Study Fellowship series and faithfully participated in precepts Bible studies for over 45 years. In fact, she hosted an evening Bible study at her home where, for many years, welcoming friends and neighbors. Mom faithfully attended this church, Hillview Bible Chapel, for more than 45 years, generously using her gifts to serve in countless ways. She was always there to help someone in need. For example, she routinely opened her house to house and to host those that were in need. I recall she would host young single women, missionaries, and even family. My mom's faith in Christ was real and active. She didn't just believe in the gospel, she lived it through her actions, her kindness, and her generosity every day. Family. Mom loved her family. Every single member. That love started with her parents. Though she lived far away from them, she made sure to visit often. She wrote letters regularly and she stayed connected by phone. One topic that frequently dominated our family conversations was genealogy. She spent countless hours researching and documenting our family tree and then she would weave the stories of our ancestors into our lives. As children, we normally spent the holidays with family. And if we couldn't be together in person, we made sure to connect by phone and during the pandemic by Zoom. As the time went on and family members moved away, mom made it a point to send birthday cards with a little cash tucked in. Her drawers, when we were cleaning out her house, her drawers were filled with cards, carefully chosen for each person. In fact, in her final days, she had a birthday card prepared for one of the grandchildren sitting on her cabinet. Mom was also intensely loyal. She took care of my grandmother and brought her into her home and took care of her for 12 years. And then afterwards, she continued visiting my grandmother in the nursing home for two plus years every single day. Her love really was steadfast and unwavering. She also loved to travel and nearly every trip included family. She visited my family in Switzerland, in the UK, and on the East Coast. And she went to Hawaii many times with family. If you asked mom what the best years of her life were, she would tell you that it was when her seven grandchildren were young. She loved that time of being a grandma. She had so much fun with them and she treasured every moment. If you talk to any of the grandchildren, who called her by the way, "Pattie Cake," they'll tell you stories about grandma's Skittle Jar, watching Disney movies, eating ice cream, spending the night, and for the girls, dancing around in mom's Lacey lingerie. to everyone's amusement. Mom loved her family every day and that love has shaped all of us. And finally, her favorite things. First was reading. Mom was an avid reader. She loved to read. She read historical fiction, westerns and mysteries. She could plow through a Mitchner novel in no time at all. Both Laura and I developed our love of reading. And she was a great reader. She was a great reader. She was a great reader. She was a great reader. She was a great reader. She was a great reader. She was a great reader. from watching my mom's example. When we were young, we routinely, weekly, went to the library. And we came home with stacks of books. If there was a limit, we reached it. Second was gardening. Mom loved flowers, plants, and beautiful gardens. One of the highlights of her life was visiting England and touring the spectacular gardens. I believe she inherited this love from her parents and her grandparents. She was a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, was known for her beautiful cottage garden in the back yard. And I remember visiting my grandparents and stalked in it and we would always go out to the garden to see what was new. Well, when you went to moms, that's what you did. Even when you come to my house now, the grandkids come and they look at my garden. Whenever any of us told my mom about our gardens, She would say, "You've got the gene." Then there was art, especially painting. Now my mom grew up around painting, houses, rooms, but her true gift was oil painting landscapes. She loved nature, mountains, beaches, the sky, and she brought those scenes to life on canvas. In fact, if you go out into the lower auditorium, you'll see a dozen or so of her paintings. absolutely spectacular. I always thought her greatest strength was painting skies and the spectacular clouds. She joined the Sunnyvale Art Club, where she won many awards at local art shows, and she was also a generous art teacher, inviting each grandchild over individually to learn how to paint. I have some of their paintings in my house. Another favorite, cats. Though she grew up with both dogs and cats, she always had at least one or two cats in the home. In her final days, she cared for two cats, which now live in my house. Sometimes she called them big and little, and sometimes rosy and cuddle bug. Now, whenever I visited her over at Morningstar, they would immediately hide under the couch or hide behind the bed. So I never really saw them much. So I don't even know which one's which. I still to this day, I'm not sure. However, I'm starting to get the idea of who the real cuddlebug is. Okay, and then there was laughter. Mom loved to laugh and she loved funny stories. I don't have time to go into all of them, but she had so many examples of stories she loved. But I will tell you that as kids, Laura and I, we spent Friday nights watching Laurel and Hardy, and laughing together with a bowl of popcorn. She enjoyed Christian comedians, and if you know her, you know that her laugh was full and it was contagious. One more thing I can't fail to mention is ice cream. Yes, one of her favorite things was ice cream. And whenever we visited, at some point, she would say, "Do you want some ice cream?" And and then she would open her freezer and there would be tubs of ice cream all sorts of flavors. In her final months at Morningstar, she didn't really eat very much, but she always finished her meal with a bowl of vanilla or mint chocolate chip ice cream. You see mom enjoyed her favorite things with great passion. Whether it was a good book, a blooming garden, a brush stroke on canvas, the quiet company of her cats, or a cat. or a spoonful of ice cream. You see her faith gave her strength. Her family gave her purpose. And her favorite things gave her pure joy. We will miss her great deeply. But we carry her with us in our stories in our gardens in our laughter and in every moment as we choose to love as she did. Thank you for everything. We love you Okay, that was my mom Now I want to turn to my dad His life was a journey across names Nations and vocations But most of all it was a journey of love faith and family My dad was born Eric John Rittner in Switzerland on September 21, 1933. He was later given up for adoption at age two to an older couple with the last names of Thoenen. And he lived a simple life with his adoptive parents in Montrose Switzerland and then later in Bern during World War II. by briefly serving in the Swiss Army. In 1952, at the age of 19, he emigrated to the United States, where he was sponsored by a family friend and he served as a waiter in a posh hotel in upstate New York. In 1953, he joined the US Army and subsequently became a US citizen in 1955. To simplify the pronunciation of his name, he legally changed it from the United States. In 1952, he was a member of the United States. In 1952, he was a member of the United States. In 1952, he was a member of the United States. In 195 Thoenin to Turner and then proceeded to study mechanical drafting. This newly found skill allowed him to take a job in California where he met and married my mom, Patricia Ransom, and he and my mom raised my sister Laura and I on Orange Blossom Drive in Cupertino, California. And then on a day I'll reconnected with his birth family and changed his name back to Rittner. One of the most defining themes of my dad's life was the past. You see early in adulthood he did everything he could to separate himself from it. Trying to build a new identity and leave behind what came before. But in his later years he took a very different path. He sought to rediscover, reclaim, and fully embrace his past. It's truly an incredible journey of self discovery. And I'd like to share that story with you now. Dad's past wasn't just complex. It was cinematic. You see he was born Eric John Rittner in Switzerland. But at age two he was adopted and renamed Eric Thweenan. the truth of his origins. That truth came out not gently, but in a burst of anger from his adopted mother. A revelation that shook him and planted seeds of identity confusion that would linger for decades. Years later he left Switzerland behind, not just physically but emotionally. He emigrated to New York City in 1952 changed his name to Turner. And he was a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, and built a new life in California. He wanted to leave behind everything Switzerland represented, but Switzerland wasn't done with him. At age 51, a letter arrived. An inheritance notice from a Swiss court. It named him among relatives of a Ferdinand writtener, an uncle he'd never known. That letter cracked open a door to a family. He wanted to leave behind everything Switzerland represented. But Switzerland wasn't done with him. At age 51, a letter arrived. An inheritance notice from a Swiss court. It named him among relatives of a Ferdinand writtener, an uncle he'd never known. family he hadn't seen in 50 years, including his birth mother still alive in Lausanne, Switzerland. So he returned to Switzerland with a mix of hope and trepidation. What he found was overwhelming cousins, aunts, uncles, and a birth brother who had not been given up for adoption, and who met him with a fair amount of My dad learned that his father, at age 52, had left a family of five children to marry his 22 year old mother, only to give dad up for adoption shortly thereafter. At 54, dad made a bold choice. He changed his name back to Eric John Rittner. and embraced the country he once fled. Shortly thereafter, he remarried a woman in her 20s and lived again in Switzerland. But life kept moving. As grandchildren were born back in the U.S. He returned with his new wife. Unfortunately, that marriage lasted about a decade before ending in divorce leaving him alone once more. And then. in a quiet church in California, he met a woman, a widow named Beverly. They married a few years later. It wasn't the ending he imagined, but it was the one that brought him peace. This chapter of Dad's life was messy, emotional, and deeply human. It was about identity reclaimed, family rediscovered, and the courage to do it. It was about identity reclaimed, family rediscovered, and the courage to do it. It was about identity reclaimed, family rediscovered, and the courage to keep loving, even when the story didn't go as planned. And in many ways, it was the turning point in his journey to God. A man who had spent decades searching for belonging for meaning for home, he finally found it, not in a place but in a relationship in a faith and in the quiet companionship of someone who saw him clearly. You know another defining theme of my dad's life, one of the most important things that I've ever said. was his patriotism. Dad loved Switzerland, but he chose America. And he didn't just live here. He served, he worked, he voted and believed. He was a proud US citizen deeply patriotic and loved his adopted country. He served in the US Army. He worked for 42 years in engineering in the aerospace and in the tech industry in Silicon Valley. He voted faithfully. During his retirement, he served as an election clerk and cherished being part of the democratic process. He never missed watching a political convention or a presidential debate, or staying up all night to follow election results. He flew the American flag with immense pride every day. As a child, I learned how to fold the flag, how to raise it on the flagpole, and why we flew it at half staff. His pride in the U.S. was quiet but unwavering. And finally, the passions that lit up his life. First, my dad loved to travel. But I think what he enjoyed more than the trip itself was the ability to plan the trip. He loved maps and the ability to prepare the trip. He loved maps and the ability to prepare the trip. He loved maps and the ability to plan the trip. He loved maps and the ability detailed itinerary. I recall that every time my dad went anywhere, whether it was on vacation, a trip to visit family, or to run an errand, he always made sure that the route was circular. No covering one's own track was his motto. One of my favorite vacations as a child was a three week cross country road trip that he planned down to the hour. We drove to the town of San Diego, and we drove to the town of San Diego, and we drove to the town of San Diego, and we drove to the town of San Diego, San Diego, San Diego, San Diego for miles a day, camped at times, and recorded nightly reflections. I suppose those were the original written reflections. My dad was extremely proud of the fact that he had visited all 50 states in his lifetime. His second passion was football, American football. He adopted this sport early on and became really a fanatic. He had seasoned tickets for the 49ers and he had a lot of experience in the field. He had a lot of experience in the field. He had a lot of experience in the field. He had a lot of experience in the field. He had a lot and the Oakland Raiders, he went to two Super Bowls, taking me to one when I was 12. I learned to print very neatly by writing out the weekly schedules. And then there was the weekly ritual of having to pick the winners. To get into the action, my dad became a high school football referee. Although he never played the game, he embraced this role with pride and dedication and passion. He also looked at the game. He also looked at the game. He also looked at the game. He also looked at the game. He also looked at the game. He also looked at the of cats jogging, editing home movies, and listening to audio tapes. One memorable moment was when he celebrated his 50th birthday with a swim in the ocean and champagne on the beach. And in one of the most memorable moments of his life, he stood in the waves of Santa Cruz to be baptized. Dad's passions were the heartbeat of his life. Football wasn't just a game. It was a ritual. Travel wasn't just leisure, it was discovery. Whether he was jogging at dawn or refereeing under the Friday night lights, he brought energy and joy to everything he did. Now our journey together was one of closeness to distance to ultimately peace. You see as a child I loved him and I looked up to him. As I grew older we grew apart. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand him. I didn't and the past that he was managing, nor some of the decisions he was making. Later, as my own faith deepened, I found a new love for him, but it was often met with resistance. Then something changed. When he settled with his third wife, Beverly, and in his faith, we began to relate better as adult father and son. And when he got sick, I became his caregiver. We spent more time doing that. And when he got sick, I became his caregiver. We spent more time doing that. And when he got sick, I became his caregiver. We spent more time doing during those difficult years than we had in decades, taking trips to the coast, walking with his walker, pushing him in his wheelchair for ice cream. In those final days as I sat by his side, I watched him finish his earthly journey. And when he departed, I realized we were both at peace. That was the gift of those years. A quiet reconciliation a shared grace. As I finished this tribute to both my parents, I realized how much has changed. They are now gone. And while their stories live on in me and the values they passed down and the memories we shared and the love they gave, I'm now navigating life without them. It's a new chapter, one I didn't choose, but one I'm learning to walk with grace. This episode was my way of remembering them, not just as mom and dad, but as Patricia and Eric, two people who shaped me in ways I'm still discovering. Their lives were full of change, conviction and quiet strength. And now I carry their legacy forward with gratitude with love and with the hope that their stories will continue. you to inspire. With that I'd like to thank you for taking the time to listen to my story to the tribute to my parents. Going forward in the next episode I will shift gears and I'm going to go back to I think I hope to trade topics I'm planning on doing a series a three part series where we will really dive into export controls and looking forward to that so with that I will see you. I thank you once again and I wish you all well and we'll talk soon.