John was always the life of the party and a great one to remind us that it’s alright to not be so serious all of the time. 🙂
Korin Rodriguez
I think the very first time I spoke with John-Neale Patton, I said something stupid like, “Your voice is so cool.” Haha
I was always so enamored by so much of his life. Primarily, by music, tv, and movies. I have always wondered what it would be like to be in a band, go on tour, or work on a set. But he did more than wonder. He LIVED it.
I loved how passionate he could be. I remember being so excited when he would tell stories about singers, actors, or directors. Sometimes, he actually made me question some of my preferences when we would talk about stuff because this was a man who KNEW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT. Haha
I loved how he played. Not just hobbies, but how he had fun. There have been several moments in which I envied how he could unwind so quickly, like a yo yo haha. There were several moments where he help me realized that I dont need to take everything so seriously.
I loved how generous he was. I had been to Jungle Island Manor a few times, but always with Suzanne. But he was nice enough to let me stay during days i was on campus at DH. He even let me stay even though I liked eating broccoli. And I know that took a lot of restraint, so I will be forever grateful.
But most of all, I loved how much he cared about everyone else. He has friends everywhere. His routine was sometimes scheduled so that he could be able to stop by somewhere and say hi to his favorite people. He loved Suzanne, and loved being Jungle Pops. And so far, he’s the only man I’ve known who truly understands the love that can be held in a heart for a black cat. Lol.
I’m so thankful to have met you and to have spent time with you. I’ll always wish it could have been longer, but… Thank you for my time in your Jungle. RIP to the man, the legend, Mr. Australia himself.
Robert Patton
How does one respond upon learning that Peter Pan has fallen?…that Mowgli the man-cub has left us behind in the jungle?…that Speed Racer disappeared around that last curve?…or to quote Mike Myers as his Scottish father, “Piper down!!”
Even though we’ve lived hundreds of miles apart, have nearly opposite personalities, have very divergent tastes, and have chosen markedly different paths, John has always been there for me. He could be expected to phone at least weekly (sometimes daily), at times with nothing particular to say, sometimes with important family news. But regardless, it became a comforting routine; an indicator that all was right with the world because John had checked in (even if the rest of the world was actually falling apart). In recent days, I’ve grown to recognize more and more how much I relied on him for that.
Through the moves between states and even countries while growing up, we shared experiences together that were unique to us or that few others were part of. With certain catch phrases we could trigger memories in each other which would generate recitations of more. At times, this could sound like gibberish, confound, or amuse anyone else in earshot: bad Aussie accents, even worse pidgin accents, fragments of jokes or comedy sketches, or lines from songs or movies. There were adolescent-era compilation tapes (no, we did not call them mixtapes back then!) that we would try to name the tracks on and recount their significance in our lives at the time. At the mere mention of certain artists, he would burst into a given refrain (few if any others would likely have a clue about, nevermind who sang the song or that it even existed).
John was adventuresome from an early age: scaling the upright piano which acquainted him with the medical marvel of stitches before his older sibling, feeding ducks with such gusto that he launched himself into a park pond, exhausting adults around him and earning the nickname “Pigpen” after the Peanuts character, wearing a Creature of the Black Lagoon mask and jumping out at tourists in the Volcanoes National Park lava tube, surviving boarding school and hostel life in Papua New Guinea, being on the road with the band. These latter experiences he would later expand into mythos.
He was always entertaining: hijacking the mic, band, and stage from the house vocalist in an Oklahoma City hotel lounge; wearing a plush Scooby-Doo costume on the Catalina ferry and around Avalon and posing for pictures with tourists; relishing decorating and dressing up for Halloween; wearing a kilt to Disneyland (much to the embarrassment of his niece and nephews); and just recently wearing a Deadpool mask to the corner store (“But the sign says we have to wear masks for Covid!”).
John had an encyclopedic grasp of television, films, and many genres of popular music. His film favorites ranged from comedy to mystery and psychological suspense, and he never outgrew his love of horror films, at times to the chagrin of those he inflicted them on (“Maltese Bippy”, again? How many times did you walk away from “Race with the Devil”, Suzanne?). And there was always music: from grade school folk tunes and Hawaiian songs to radio, records, and tapes with family and friends to the guitars, the bands, the writing. I think he was just in 1st grade when he observed that da bruddah with the ukulele or guitar was the one with the wahines hanging around.
Brother, you will be missed! Despite the frustrations at times, you brought us joy and love and smiles and laughter. You inspire us to try to be more child-like in all its positive respects, to live in wonder and enjoy the moment, to not just dream it, but to be it. Thank you for being there for us. We are blessed to have known you.
Lynette Anne Patton
When your heart is empty, filling it with happy memories can help. There are so many happy memories of my son, John. He always surprised us with what he would do. When John’s younger brother Mark was born in Hawaii in 1971, John’s reaction was, “Can I take Mark to school with me?” So…at one week of age, John displayed Mark to his Pacific Palisades school class for “Show and Tell!” John was always the showman, and could always make you smile. Rest in peace, my son.
Jack T. Patton
John was always our “wild child:” doing the unexpected in an unusual way. John went his own way. Our other sons came when they were called, John-Neale took a message and would get back to us later! But he did so in such a way that it was almost impossible to be angry with him. He will be remembered for his good nature, creativity, ingenuity, and enchanting warmth manifested to all those he interacted with. John felt the secret of staying young was to live life to its fullest each day, to always have a dream that you are pursuing, and to lie about his age—I’m not sure how many years he has been 39! During this time of sadness, we hold on to our memories and are comforted by them and the knowledge that death means life is changed, not taken away. Venture on, our beloved son.
Glenn Messer
John was not only our son-in-law, but one of those young missionary kids (MKs) that we had the pleasure of watching grow up in the years we spent in Papua New Guinea. Our pursuits in life took us on different journeys and years with little contact, but you never forget those who fill an important place in your life. John was one of those who mattered. 35 years later, John came back into our lives as an older version of the caring, sensitive, sweet person we knew him to be in his adventurous youth. This time he became family and we rekindled our love and appreciation of the man. He was a sweetheart to our daughter and any father will tell you that any man who treats his daughter as queen of the home is “family” in every sense of the word. We will miss him and his good natured ways. God speed, John-Neale Patton, to the care of God who has always loved you more than any of us ever could.
Today, I will wipe away the tears and get on with life, but I cannot promise they will not reemerge from time to time.
Shauna
Everyone who knew John knew that he loved toys; G.I. Joes, superheroes, monsters and Planet of the Apes figures were among the collectibles he favored. They were treasures he displayed and admired on a shelf; a fun way to add reminders of childhood to his home. But one object I associate with him was none of those. He brought it to a family rendezvous on a scorching-hot day at Disneyland, and at first glance, it didn’t look like much. It was a Pic’n’Save find, a spray bottle with a battery compartment that powered soft foam fan blades mounted near the top. When he demonstrated what it did, I think I saw what he saw: a seemingly ordinary gizmo with toy potential. Turn the fan on, squeeze the spray lever, and enjoy the cool-down of a generous shower of mist. It was entertainment and practicality rolled into one; waiting in line to get into a ride at Disneyland suddenly wasn’t as tedious anymore…magic.
Mark Patton
What do I want people to know about John for his obituary? To be honest this was not a question I thought I would be asked. We lost him so suddenly and unexpectedly. John was my brother and my friend. He genuinely cared and he was always interested in his family and friends. I am so grateful for the time he took to spend with my kids and the interest he took to be part of their lives. John Bnever conformed, but lived his life exactly as he wanted. He was always welcoming and I can’t tell you how many times he opened his home for us to spend the night, drive us to the airport and then pick us up at all kinds of crazy hours. He was a very good cook and a gracious host. To say I will miss him is a complete understatement. He was the life of the party. Family get-togethers will never be the same or as much fun.
I cannot believe you are gone and with no notice. Wow! You left us as you lived, full of surprises. Brother, you were an interesting and amazing person and your family and friends miss you more than words can describe. Thanks for all the good times we spent together watching movies, telling stories, and of course the regular phone calls. I am going to miss our conversations. So, what do I want the world to know in his obituary…a creative, loving and caring person has passed away and those who had the privilege to know him will miss him greatly. He made a difference in my life. He mattered. He lived life exactly how he wanted to and it was a full life which he enjoyed.
Christopher
Once, we were watching “A Thing” by SS Wilson where a man goes to an interview with a film company and is attacked by living reels of film. He ends up using a magnet as a weapon and it took John explaining how magnets destroy film for it to make sense and not be, as I said, hard to understand. Then, we were in a lounge where John had given me a fedora and a trench coat and introduced me to Billy Vera (not the Beaters though) as his older-dwarf-brother. Suddenly it was Cheap Trick at Captain Kid’s Island. It was Kenner’s Piranha Motorcycle with Sly Rax. It was a hug, a hand on each shoulder, and how enamored he was with Misti. Then it was a phone call about how tired he was and how he couldn’t wait for Suzanne to come home. Then Jennifer, our next door neighbor in Tierrasanta who saw “Flash Gordon” with us, was texting. And it all started over. I was a baby watching “Jaws” with Dad, Robert and John when I was smuggled out of the hospital in New Guinea. And I was watching “Opal” at the San Diego Fair with Mark. And mom was laughing at me and John for taking photos of John Belushi on the TV. These stories are heaven where nobody dies and everyone’s in a better place—and they’re ours. And it’s why he’s alive.
John was always the life of the party and a great one to remind us that it’s alright to not be so serious all of the time. 🙂
I think the very first time I spoke with John-Neale Patton, I said something stupid like, “Your voice is so cool.” Haha
I was always so enamored by so much of his life. Primarily, by music, tv, and movies. I have always wondered what it would be like to be in a band, go on tour, or work on a set. But he did more than wonder. He LIVED it.
I loved how passionate he could be. I remember being so excited when he would tell stories about singers, actors, or directors. Sometimes, he actually made me question some of my preferences when we would talk about stuff because this was a man who KNEW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT. Haha
I loved how he played. Not just hobbies, but how he had fun. There have been several moments in which I envied how he could unwind so quickly, like a yo yo haha. There were several moments where he help me realized that I dont need to take everything so seriously.
I loved how generous he was. I had been to Jungle Island Manor a few times, but always with Suzanne. But he was nice enough to let me stay during days i was on campus at DH. He even let me stay even though I liked eating broccoli. And I know that took a lot of restraint, so I will be forever grateful.
But most of all, I loved how much he cared about everyone else. He has friends everywhere. His routine was sometimes scheduled so that he could be able to stop by somewhere and say hi to his favorite people. He loved Suzanne, and loved being Jungle Pops. And so far, he’s the only man I’ve known who truly understands the love that can be held in a heart for a black cat. Lol.
I’m so thankful to have met you and to have spent time with you. I’ll always wish it could have been longer, but… Thank you for my time in your Jungle. RIP to the man, the legend, Mr. Australia himself.
How does one respond upon learning that Peter Pan has fallen?…that Mowgli the man-cub has left us behind in the jungle?…that Speed Racer disappeared around that last curve?…or to quote Mike Myers as his Scottish father, “Piper down!!”
Even though we’ve lived hundreds of miles apart, have nearly opposite personalities, have very divergent tastes, and have chosen markedly different paths, John has always been there for me. He could be expected to phone at least weekly (sometimes daily), at times with nothing particular to say, sometimes with important family news. But regardless, it became a comforting routine; an indicator that all was right with the world because John had checked in (even if the rest of the world was actually falling apart). In recent days, I’ve grown to recognize more and more how much I relied on him for that.
Through the moves between states and even countries while growing up, we shared experiences together that were unique to us or that few others were part of. With certain catch phrases we could trigger memories in each other which would generate recitations of more. At times, this could sound like gibberish, confound, or amuse anyone else in earshot: bad Aussie accents, even worse pidgin accents, fragments of jokes or comedy sketches, or lines from songs or movies. There were adolescent-era compilation tapes (no, we did not call them mixtapes back then!) that we would try to name the tracks on and recount their significance in our lives at the time. At the mere mention of certain artists, he would burst into a given refrain (few if any others would likely have a clue about, nevermind who sang the song or that it even existed).
John was adventuresome from an early age: scaling the upright piano which acquainted him with the medical marvel of stitches before his older sibling, feeding ducks with such gusto that he launched himself into a park pond, exhausting adults around him and earning the nickname “Pigpen” after the Peanuts character, wearing a Creature of the Black Lagoon mask and jumping out at tourists in the Volcanoes National Park lava tube, surviving boarding school and hostel life in Papua New Guinea, being on the road with the band. These latter experiences he would later expand into mythos.
He was always entertaining: hijacking the mic, band, and stage from the house vocalist in an Oklahoma City hotel lounge; wearing a plush Scooby-Doo costume on the Catalina ferry and around Avalon and posing for pictures with tourists; relishing decorating and dressing up for Halloween; wearing a kilt to Disneyland (much to the embarrassment of his niece and nephews); and just recently wearing a Deadpool mask to the corner store (“But the sign says we have to wear masks for Covid!”).
John had an encyclopedic grasp of television, films, and many genres of popular music. His film favorites ranged from comedy to mystery and psychological suspense, and he never outgrew his love of horror films, at times to the chagrin of those he inflicted them on (“Maltese Bippy”, again? How many times did you walk away from “Race with the Devil”, Suzanne?). And there was always music: from grade school folk tunes and Hawaiian songs to radio, records, and tapes with family and friends to the guitars, the bands, the writing. I think he was just in 1st grade when he observed that da bruddah with the ukulele or guitar was the one with the wahines hanging around.
Brother, you will be missed! Despite the frustrations at times, you brought us joy and love and smiles and laughter. You inspire us to try to be more child-like in all its positive respects, to live in wonder and enjoy the moment, to not just dream it, but to be it. Thank you for being there for us. We are blessed to have known you.
When your heart is empty, filling it with happy memories can help. There are so many happy memories of my son, John. He always surprised us with what he would do. When John’s younger brother Mark was born in Hawaii in 1971, John’s reaction was, “Can I take Mark to school with me?” So…at one week of age, John displayed Mark to his Pacific Palisades school class for “Show and Tell!” John was always the showman, and could always make you smile. Rest in peace, my son.
John was always our “wild child:” doing the unexpected in an unusual way. John went his own way. Our other sons came when they were called, John-Neale took a message and would get back to us later! But he did so in such a way that it was almost impossible to be angry with him. He will be remembered for his good nature, creativity, ingenuity, and enchanting warmth manifested to all those he interacted with. John felt the secret of staying young was to live life to its fullest each day, to always have a dream that you are pursuing, and to lie about his age—I’m not sure how many years he has been 39! During this time of sadness, we hold on to our memories and are comforted by them and the knowledge that death means life is changed, not taken away. Venture on, our beloved son.
John was not only our son-in-law, but one of those young missionary kids (MKs) that we had the pleasure of watching grow up in the years we spent in Papua New Guinea. Our pursuits in life took us on different journeys and years with little contact, but you never forget those who fill an important place in your life. John was one of those who mattered. 35 years later, John came back into our lives as an older version of the caring, sensitive, sweet person we knew him to be in his adventurous youth. This time he became family and we rekindled our love and appreciation of the man. He was a sweetheart to our daughter and any father will tell you that any man who treats his daughter as queen of the home is “family” in every sense of the word. We will miss him and his good natured ways. God speed, John-Neale Patton, to the care of God who has always loved you more than any of us ever could.
Today, I will wipe away the tears and get on with life, but I cannot promise they will not reemerge from time to time.
Everyone who knew John knew that he loved toys; G.I. Joes, superheroes, monsters and Planet of the Apes figures were among the collectibles he favored. They were treasures he displayed and admired on a shelf; a fun way to add reminders of childhood to his home. But one object I associate with him was none of those. He brought it to a family rendezvous on a scorching-hot day at Disneyland, and at first glance, it didn’t look like much. It was a Pic’n’Save find, a spray bottle with a battery compartment that powered soft foam fan blades mounted near the top. When he demonstrated what it did, I think I saw what he saw: a seemingly ordinary gizmo with toy potential. Turn the fan on, squeeze the spray lever, and enjoy the cool-down of a generous shower of mist. It was entertainment and practicality rolled into one; waiting in line to get into a ride at Disneyland suddenly wasn’t as tedious anymore…magic.
What do I want people to know about John for his obituary? To be honest this was not a question I thought I would be asked. We lost him so suddenly and unexpectedly. John was my brother and my friend. He genuinely cared and he was always interested in his family and friends. I am so grateful for the time he took to spend with my kids and the interest he took to be part of their lives. John Bnever conformed, but lived his life exactly as he wanted. He was always welcoming and I can’t tell you how many times he opened his home for us to spend the night, drive us to the airport and then pick us up at all kinds of crazy hours. He was a very good cook and a gracious host. To say I will miss him is a complete understatement. He was the life of the party. Family get-togethers will never be the same or as much fun.
I cannot believe you are gone and with no notice. Wow! You left us as you lived, full of surprises. Brother, you were an interesting and amazing person and your family and friends miss you more than words can describe. Thanks for all the good times we spent together watching movies, telling stories, and of course the regular phone calls. I am going to miss our conversations. So, what do I want the world to know in his obituary…a creative, loving and caring person has passed away and those who had the privilege to know him will miss him greatly. He made a difference in my life. He mattered. He lived life exactly how he wanted to and it was a full life which he enjoyed.
Once, we were watching “A Thing” by SS Wilson where a man goes to an interview with a film company and is attacked by living reels of film. He ends up using a magnet as a weapon and it took John explaining how magnets destroy film for it to make sense and not be, as I said, hard to understand. Then, we were in a lounge where John had given me a fedora and a trench coat and introduced me to Billy Vera (not the Beaters though) as his older-dwarf-brother. Suddenly it was Cheap Trick at Captain Kid’s Island. It was Kenner’s Piranha Motorcycle with Sly Rax. It was a hug, a hand on each shoulder, and how enamored he was with Misti. Then it was a phone call about how tired he was and how he couldn’t wait for Suzanne to come home. Then Jennifer, our next door neighbor in Tierrasanta who saw “Flash Gordon” with us, was texting. And it all started over. I was a baby watching “Jaws” with Dad, Robert and John when I was smuggled out of the hospital in New Guinea. And I was watching “Opal” at the San Diego Fair with Mark. And mom was laughing at me and John for taking photos of John Belushi on the TV. These stories are heaven where nobody dies and everyone’s in a better place—and they’re ours. And it’s why he’s alive.