Patsy Davis (affectionately known to many, related to her or not, as Granny or Granny Patsy) fell asleep in death, a little after 10 p.m. on October 12, 2024 in Eureka at the age of 88.

She was born Patricia Claudette Skelton in Kennedy, Oklahoma (she said it might have actually been Watonga, which was the neighboring town) on January 20, 1936 to Frank Melvin Skelton & Elsie Letitia Skelton (née Godwin). The youngest of seven children, she had five sisters and a brother. They were (in descending order of birth): Mildred Olive (or Micky, the oldest), Floyd Melvin, Charlotte Joan, and the triplets — Lela May, Lila Merle, & Lona Joan.

At the time of her birth, the Great Depression had been in full swing for seven years, and her family lived close to the edge of the Dust Bowl. Less than a year before she was born, on April 14, 1935, the Black Sunday Storm (probably the worst dust storm in American history) swept East from the Oklahoma Panhandle and over the Skelton family homestead, blotting out the sun and displacing an estimated 300,000 tons of topsoil, some of which reached the East Coast.

Singer-songwriter (and native Oklahoman) Woody Guthrie described that day in his song The Great Dust Storm (AKA Dust Storm Disaster):

On the 14th day of April of 1935,
There struck the worst of dust storms that ever filled the sky.
You could see that dust storm comin’, the cloud looked deathlike black,
And through our mighty nation, it left a dreadful track.
From Oklahoma City to the Arizona line,
Dakota and Nebraska to the lazy Rio Grande,
It fell across our city like a curtain of black rolled down,
We thought it was our judgement, we thought it was our doom.”

Suffice it to say, times were extremely tough for a family with seven children. Sometime before 1940 (probably not long after Patsy’s birth), they packed up and made their way West- headed to California (they were in Tulare, CA for the 1940 census) and surviving, as so many Dust Bowl refugees did, as “Okie” migrant farm workers.

Patsy told us how her father Frank had seen (and possibly talked to) author John Steinbeck, who spent some time at the FSA migrant camp she and her family were living in. Steinbeck was doing research for his classic book The Grapes of Wrath. She was told that many in the camp thought he was strange. His days were spent ambling through the camp and talking with all whom he met. After a while, he would stop and find a nice spot to sit- spending hours just watching the hustle and bustle of the camp, pausing only to jot things down in his notebook.

It is wonderful to think of a young Patsy listening intently as her father or sisters told her about the times the great author had visited their camp. Perhaps those tales were the spark that ignited her lifelong love of reading, writing, and storytelling. It would make for a good story, if so.

In 1942, when Patsy was just six, her mother Elsie tragically passed away at the age of 41. Even in her later years, Patsy would talk about how much she missed her mother.

Fast forward to Santa Maria, Calif. in the early 1950s where she, a bright student at Santa Maria High School, met a young Texan (and recent Korean War veteran) named Mack Davis. Mack was honorably discharged from the Army on May 1, 1952, and, with a “Why wait?” attitude that would persist throughout successive generations of the Davis family, they were married just two weeks later, on May 15, 1952.

Over the next three years, their sons Richard Mack (1953 in Santa Maria) and Gary Dean (1955 in Arcata) were born. As you may have noticed by Gary’s birthplace (in good old Arcata), the young family moved from Santa Maria up to Humboldt County around 1954-55.

Through the rest of the 50s and on into the 60s, life happened for Patsy and her family, as it does for us all. Mack started a business, while Patsy took care of the house and the boys. Rick (Richard) and Gary became rowdy teenagers — by all accounts, quite a bit rowdier than most teenagers.

Starting in 1968, there was a 10-year stretch where a lot of big events happened in Patsy’s life — both good and bad. Her sister Lela (one of the triplets) died in a car accident that year. Not long after, Lela’s daughter Cathy (Catherine) came to stay with her Aunt Patsy and family. Rick and Gary treated her like a sister (fighting and all), which is why their kids still think of her as their Aunt Cathy.

A year after her sister died, a vitally important life event occurred for Patsy. On April 8, 1969 she was baptized, dedicating her life to her God, Jehovah. This decision would have a positive effect on the remainder of her life. Her strong faith in His promises, including the promise of the resurrection found in Acts 24:15 & Job 14:14,15, carried her through many dark times and caused her to possess an unshakable hope for a wonderful future — a future where she would be able to once again see all of the family and friends that she lost in death over her almost nine decades of life.

In due time, that dedication would also take that little “Okie” girl to places she had probably never dreamt she’d see. More on that a little later.

The 1970s brought with them not only the rise of disco, but also more of those previously mentioned good things in Patsy’s life. In December of 1972, her eldest son Rick (Richard) and his wife Rita (née Garcia) had their first child, Ericka Lynn. Suddenly, at the age of 36, she was a grandma. Ericka was the first to call her “Granny” and it was a title she carried with pride until the end of her life. Rick and Rita have been married for over 50 years, thus making Rita one of the longest-tenured members of the Davis family.

During their brief time together, her younger son Gary and his first wife Julie (née Hamilton) had two sons. Their first, Gary Joshua Mark, was born in 1974. He was followed by his brother, Mark Anthony, in 1976. In the early 1990s, Gary met his future wife, Beverly. They were married in 1995. This made Patsy happy because, in Beverly, Gary had found someone that she approved of. Next year, Beverly and Gary will celebrate their 30th anniversary.

To complete the round-up of the grandchildren, we’re going to skip ahead in the timeline a little. In 1981, Rick and Rita welcomed their daughter Terra Jo Rachael, giving Ericka a baby sister and Patsy her fourth and final grandchild. She fiercely loved all of her grandchildren, and they have plenty of pictures and memories to prove it. If they ever needed anything, Patsy was always there to provide whatever help she could- no matter what. Whether that support was moral, emotional, financial, or other, she was determined to help as much as possible. As a friend said recently, on learning that she had passed away: “She was the Granny everyone deserved.”

In 1978, after 26 years of marriage, Patsy and Mack divorced. At first, she had great difficulty dealing with her new circumstances. She was 42 years old and truly alone for the first time in her life. Eventually, though, she adapted to the situation and thrived.

Around that time, she started working for the California Employment Development Department’s Eureka office, eventually transferring to the Redding office. She made it her career and it was work that she genuinely loved doing. It allowed her to use her sharp thinking ability in a variety of ways. In claims dispute interviews, she was able to read people and weed out those who were obviously filing fraudulently. She got to study the facts of each case and, like a great detective, was able to get to the truth of what was happening. If an appeal ended up in court, she argued the State’s position like a lawyer. The judges all respected her. One of them even told her that she should have gone to law school because her skills in court were better than many of the lawyers he saw on a daily basis.

She worked for EDD until her retirement. After she retired, she was a great resource to her family and friends when it came to unemployment benefits. She always started the conversation the same way: “Ok. Tell me what they said when they denied your benefits.” After hearing that, she’d dig into the details and figure out what the person who was filing had done wrong on their unemployment form (they’d always done something wrong). The people who followed her advice had a 100% success rate in getting their benefits approved.

Her years in Redding were the best time of her life. She had her career, yes, but more importantly she had the people she surrounded herself with. The immense network of friends and close acquaintances that she built over her many years there, led the family to half-jokingly tell people that “Patsy has that town completely wired” and that “she knows everyone in Redding.”

No matter where she took us when we visited (to much of the family who lived away from Redding, “visiting Granny” was one of the best vacations available), she was warmly greeted by smiling people who knew her by name. She always remembered who they were and the details of their lives- it was one of her talents.

Over her years in Redding, she often had folks living with her in either of her two houses — her first house on Dusty Lane or, later, the newly constructed Country Oaks house. Her roommates were family or friends who needed somewhere to stay, for whatever reason, short or long term. She was always ready to help those who needed it. By the time she moved into her second-floor apartment, with a deck overlooking the tranquil Sacramento River (this was probably her favorite residence in Redding), she had taken on yet another roommate who needed her help- a long-tailed, multi-colored kitten she named Chica. They were both strong-willed and they fought some, but they loved each other.

The biggest thing by far for Patsy during her years in Redding though, was her spiritual life and her service to God. Once she retired from EDD, she was able to work even more diligently in her ministry. She spent countless hours preaching to people and teaching them about God’s Kingdom and all of the wonderful things that it promises for the future.

Her retirement gave her time and financial freedom, but her focus on spiritual things opened up to her the privilege of travelling all over the world, most often with her sister Lila, as delegates attending various International Conventions of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Some of the many countries she visited (not counting ones she only passed through) were: Ukraine, Poland, Germany, Greece, England, South Korea, China, and New Zealand- always making sure to bring back exotic gifts (and coins) for her family & friends. Things like carved wooden flutes from Greece or authentic nesting dolls from Ukraine. She even brought back a Chinese ketchup packet for her ketchup-obsessed grandson Gary Joshua.

The other constant for her in all of those amazing locations? She continued talking to and genuinely listening to everyone she encountered. Because of that, no matter where she went in the world, she made more friends. We used to say that she knew everyone in Redding, but her globetrotting ways forced us to alter the saying a little. We would just say: “Granny Patsy knows everyone.”

This saying was proven true in spectacular fashion when she and Lila went to Rome. They were walking around on the Sunday before they left, taking in the sights, and Patsy told Lila that they had to see Michelangelo’s famous frescoes inside the Sistine Chapel. Lila agreed, so they walked into Vatican City, bought their tickets, and went inside. After wandering around silently for a while, sometimes pointing out various beautiful or famous aspects of the artwork to each other, Lila turned to tell her younger sister that they should find someplace to eat lunch pretty soon.

Patsy was gone.

Lila looked around but didn’t see her anywhere nearby. She walked through the building searching for her, with no success. This wasn’t their first trip together, though. Lila knew that Patsy had a habit of seeing something interesting and, forgetting all else, wandering off to investigate. Suspecting this would likely occur at some point during the morning, Lila had told her that they should meet by the Obelisk in St. Peter’s Square by 11:30 AM if they got separated.

Trusting in their prior arrangement, Lila walked to the meeting spot. She checked her watch when she got to the Obelisk. It was 11:15. Knowing Patsy, she’d show up ten minutes late with a story about all of the fantastic things she’d seen or the interesting people she’d met.

By 11:55, though, she still wasn’t there, and Lila was starting to get worried. It was less than a 10-minute walk from the Sistine Chapel to the spot where Lila was waiting. Maybe something was wrong. She couldn’t leave that spot to look for her missing sister, though. The second she did, Patsy was sure to show up and wonder where she was. Plus, the square had been steadily filling with people, for some reason, and it wouldn’t be easy to find anyone in such a large crowd.

Finally, on the off-chance Patsy had already passed by, Lila decided she’d just start asking people standing near the Obelisk if they’d seen a woman who looked a bit like her in the area- they were sisters, after all, and looked somewhat alike. She spotted a man who seemed to be an American (he was wearing cargo shorts and a baseball cap) and walked up to him. The man looked at her but, right as she started to ask him if he’d seen Patsy, an excited gasp ran through the gathered crowd and drew his attention away. She stopped and turned towards the commotion. Everyone was looking up at a building across the square, so she craned her neck to try and see what all the fuss was about.

There, on a balcony located above the columned face of an extremely ornate building, stood Patsy. She was looking in Lila’s direction and waving.

Lila told us in that moment she thought, “Oh no, Patsy! What have you done now?” She waved back and then started frantically gesturing for her sister to get down from there. Patsy seemed to understand Lila’s impromptu semaphore and turned to go inside. In that moment, though, a man wearing what looked to be a fancy embroidered robe and a tall white hat stepped out onto the balcony next to her. He seemed surprised to find a little gray-haired woman already standing there.

It looked to Lila like Patsy was talking to him. She kept pointing towards the square and Lila’s position by the Obelisk. The man’s hat appeared to be moving slightly forward and back, as if he were nodding. Lila hoped that was what was occurring because, at minimum, Patsy had been caught trespassing in a heavily guarded sovereign territory.

Lila said she’d never thought faster in her life, as she tried to figure out what her options to save Patsy were. Should she try contacting the tour company for help? This seemed like a situation that was way above their paygrade. Was it serious enough that she needed to contact the U.S. Embassy? Leave it to Patsy to take a trip to another country and turn it into an international incident!

The (most-likely) American man, whom she’d completely forgotten was standing next to her, tapped her gently on the shoulder and pointed up towards the balcony.

“What’s she done now?” Lila said, under her breath, as she refocused her attention back on Patsy. Nothing seemed to have changed. She turned back towards the man, with the intention of telling him that the woman causing all of the fuss was just her youngest sister. Before she could, though, he leaned towards her, a big smile on his face. With wide excited eyes he said, “Hey! Who’s that guy in the crazy hat talking to Patsy?!?”

(pause for laughter)

That was Patsy’s favorite story to tell or hear told- especially when it was delivered to people who didn’t know what was coming. She once told it to a group and added at least five levels of prominent people she knew, in ascending order of fame, before the punchline on the balcony. Even very near the end of her life, when she couldn’t speak much louder than a whisper, a good telling of that joke to some unsuspecting visitors caused her eyes to twinkle and made her silently shake with laughter.

In the early 2000s Patsy packed up her things, grabbed her baby kitty Chica, and left her life in sunny Redding behind. She wanted to be closer to the family and a lot of the family lived over on the coast in Humboldt County. Often, she would tell us how much she missed the hot weather, the sunshine, and all of her friends. When she was still able to drive, she visited over there as much as she could. Many of her friends from Redding would also make the trek to the coast, to stay with her and visit.

She adapted to her new life in Eureka (though never completely to the weather) and soon had many dear friends and go-to spots for coffee or walks or whatever. Her close proximity to much of the family allowed her to spend a lot more time with them and, for that reason, she was ultimately happy she moved here. Whether it was working in the ministry with her spiritual brothers and sisters, taking her great-grandchildren to swimming lessons, BBQs with the family, or Arts Alive! with her friends, she was always on the go.

As the years passed, Patsy began to slow down a bit but still managed to stay very active. She continued to have many adventures and experience lots of good things, but time and the harsh realities of this life were starting to catch up with her. In 2016, her beloved baby kitty Chica died. She missed her terribly and vowed never to get another cat. It was a vow she kept.

In 2017, her grandson Gary’s wife, Kelly, died. It was a devastating loss for the family, and one that hit her extremely hard. The close relationship that she already had with Gary grew even closer from that day forward. She would say to him, “Remember, kid: I’m your ace in the hole. If you ever need help, I’m here for you.” And she always was. He did his best to fill that role for her, as well. They supported each other in any way they could, as best they could, all the way until her last day of life.

Patsy was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, with possible Lewy Body Dementia, and yet she didn’t complain too much. Just a little bit. She’d get angry when her body wouldn’t do what she wanted it to (“I’m telling my foot to move but it won’t listen!”), but she was more likely to make a joke about her issues than adopt an “Oh, woe is me” attitude.

As her dementia progressed, she started hallucinating. During one of their customary Family Fun Friday dinners (a decades-long, nearly every Friday occurrence that often included other family members and/or friends) Patsy told her grandson Gary that she had been at her upstairs window the night before and watched two men down in the yard washing an elephant. When he told her that she didn’t have an upstairs window because she lived in a one-story apartment, she said, “Oh, that’s right. I guess I didn’t see an elephant after all.” She sounded disappointed, so he told her that seeing an imaginary elephant was probably, all things considered, much cooler than seeing an actual elephant. She thought about that for a moment, nodded and said, “You may be right.”

She sometimes worried aloud about forgetting our names. To reassure us (and likely herself), she would always say, “Even if I don’t remember your name, I know who you are, and I still love you.” Very near the end of her life, she was still in there- buried deep, but the essential “Granny Patsy” would sometimes come to the surface. You could talk to her, and the sharpness of her intelligence and humor would shine in her eyes, for just a moment. She would smile, just a tiny flicker of her lips, a hint of the mischievous little grin she got when she said something funny or, as she would have said “something wicked.”

In all honesty, this obituary has been difficult to write. How do you sum up nearly 89 years of a life well lived? All of Patsy’s happiness and pain, her triumphs and tragedies? She wasn’t perfect, none of us are, but she pulled herself up from extremely humble beginnings, she overcame things that would have destroyed a weaker person and, at the end of it all, she made an amazing life for herself, her family, and all of those she helped along the way.

Most importantly to Patsy, she lived up to the dedication she made when she was baptized over 55 years ago. When she fell asleep in death, she did so as a faithful servant of her God, Jehovah. She sleeps now in His memory, waiting for the call to wake. It will not be late.

We love and miss you, Granny Patsy.

Patsy was preceded in death by her parents Frank & Elsie Skelton, her siblings: Lela Clark, Floyd Skelton, Lila Symms, Charlotte Hall, Lona Walters, & Micky Bowles, her nephew by marriage, Ron Roth (wife Catherine), her granddaughter by marriage Kelly Blu Davis (née VanKeuren- husband Gary Joshua), and her great-grandson Tevin Anthony Davis (parents Mark & Nina).

Patsy is survived by her sons and their spouses: Rick & Rita Davis and Gary & Beverly Davis.

She is also survived by her grandchildren (and their spouses):

From Rick: Ericka Clements (Ira) and Terra Sandoval (Ezequiel).

From Gary: Gary J. M. Davis and Mark Davis (Nina).

Her great-grandchildren from Ericka (Ira): Bryant, Janiqua, & Gabriel. Her great-grandchild from Mark (Nina): Jalen. Her great-grandchildren from Terra (Ezequiel): Diego, Dominic, Donovan, & Delilah.

We would also like to make special mention of her niece Catherine Roth and great-niece Monika Hagler (husband Murray), both of whom talked to her often and were very close to her, even though they live far away, up through her final days.

She is also survived by her extended family, her spiritual family, and far too many longtime friends to mention here. Patsy cared deeply for you all.

We would like to extend a special thanks to the following people: To Patsy’s granddaughter Ericka who took care of her for years when she was still at home. To Melva Hurn who assisted Ericka with Patsy’s care & Camellia Armstrong who stayed with Patsy and cared for her when no one else was able to. To her daughter-in-law Beverly who worried about her, visited her often, and did many things to make her room and surrounding spaces at the care facility as homey as possible.

To the great folks at Especially You Assisted Living who took care of her during the last year and a half or so of her life, and also the fine people from Hospice of Humboldt who helped her (and us) so much during her final weeks.

Last but not least, to Patsy’s former daughter-in-law Julie Reyes. In December of 2019 (right before the pandemic), she took Patsy and Gary Joshua on a trip to the World Headquarters of Jehovah’s Witnesses located in Warwick, New York. It would turn out to be the last big adventure of Patsy’s life and, in her final years, she spoke of it often and fondly.

We would also like to thank Ayers Family Cremation for taking care of her final arrangements after she passed away.

Per her wishes, her ashes will be scattered over Mt. Shasta, which was one of her favorite places in the world. She made her granddaughter Terra’s husband, Ezequiel (who is a pilot), promise to scatter her ashes over the mountain. Her granddaughter Ericka has taken on the responsibility of being there to help complete her Granny Patsy’s final request. The family would like to thank both of them in advance for doing this.

There was a packed memorial service for Patsy that was held Saturday, November 30 at 2 p.m.at the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses at 1580 Betty Ct. in McKinleyville. Many family members and friends who were unable to be there in person were able to attend remotely via Zoom. The family would like to thank everyone who was able to attend for the love and support they showed.

In lieu of flowers: Patsy loved thrift shops, and she loved animals, so Tailwaggers was always one of her favorite places to look for clothes- it supports the Sequoia Humane Society’s no-kill animal shelter.

Please consider donating to Tailwaggers Thrift Shop (2737 F St. Eureka, CA- Phone #: 707- 445-5837) in her name.

A personal note from Patsy’s grandson Gary:

There’s one final item for me to take care of.

From my earliest memories of my Granny it was a bedrock fact in my mind that she had a passion for reading and writing. Her current book (she read them at a steady pace) could usually be found on the table next to her bed, her Betty Boop bookmark sticking out of it. Every place she lived over the years had shelves filled with all of the books she’d collected during the course of her life.

When my brother Mark and I were young, she would read to us from books like Aesop’s Fables or My Book of Bible Stories, tell us bedtime stories she’d made up (our favorite was her funny sci-fi story: The Little Boy Who Looked Just Like Harvey), teach us songs she’d written when we were bored during car rides, and tell us about (or simply give us) books to read that she knew we’d like.

Because I loved reading and writing from an early age, she would always encourage me in those spaces, whether it was by recommending more challenging books for me to read or by supporting my early writing efforts. When we lived with her during my 4th grade year, she helped me with my writing assignments, matter-of-factly suggesting ways that I could improve them.

As I got older, she started asking me for book recommendations. It was always an amazing feeling when she would call and excitedly tell me how fantastic the book I’d loaned her was. She’d recount her favorite parts and then tell me that the next time we got together we were going to talk all about it.

Granny had a great love for science fiction books (I remember finding the collected works of H.G. Wells in her bookcase when I was 9 years old- I read it from cover to cover, and my mind was justifiably blown), but she had a particular fondness for poetry- her favorite poem was The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. She didn’t just read and appreciate poetry, though- she also wrote it and had a talent for the art form. In her later years, we would spend time taking turns reading poems to each other. Sometimes they would be poems we had read and enjoyed, and sometimes they would be poems we had written and wanted to share.

On a seemingly unrelated note, Granny Patsy often told us that she wanted the epitaph on her headstone to be a particular phrase that she loved. She was quite insistent on the matter. Since she later requested her remains be cremated and her ashes scattered over Mt. Shasta, there will be no headstone to write her epitaph on. Instead, I’ve decided to fulfill her request by writing a poem in her memory- one similar in style to some of her poems, which uses her chosen epitaph as its inspiration and title. This poem will have to serve in place of her headstone. I believe my Granny Patsy would have approved:

“Wake Me When the War is Over”

My Granny Patsy said to me
“If I should die before I wake
There’s no more pain, I’m just asleep
Don’t cry for me, for goodness’ sake

“Be with our friends and family
Go drink a beer and grill a steak
Tell tales about your times with me
And all we’ll do when I awake.”

So we endure and we await
That time as it draws ever closer
She knew His Day would not be late
He’d wake her when the War was over

And what a welcome she’ll receive!
With those who love her gathered ‘round
All joyful faces, none who grieve
Our Patsy, who was lost, is found!

We’ll eat good food and conversate
She’ll sing a song (or maybe two)
Then after all have cleaned their plates
Blackberry pie… and ice cream too!

So for today, we will not cry
Nor mourn beneath night’s silv’ry moon
For we’ve no need to say, “Goodbye.”
But rather say, “We’ll see you soon.”