Carl Andrew Patterson

With deep love and profound gratitude for a life defined by strength and devotion, the family of Carl Andrew Patterson announces his peaceful passing on May 22, 2026. Known affectionately to many as "Pat," Carl passed away at the age of 73 at his home in Bowie, Maryland, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of the family he loved so dearly.

To know Carl is to understand a rare combination of absolute strength, brilliant wit, and a deeply rooted love for his family. Born in Mullens, WV, a poor coal-mining town, Carl knew how to do everything. He knew how to survive, and he knew how to thrive. Growing up, he walked through history, attending a segregated school and living through the era when it eventually integrated—a time that undoubtedly sharpened his resilience and understanding of the world.

Daddy’s character was forged in part during his distinguished service in the United States Air Force, where he attained the rank of Staff Sergeant serving as a military police officer and paramedic. Over the course of seven years, his commitment to duty and integrity earned him several accolades, most notably for his role as a Master Flight Commander Aerialist and a commendation for a courageous act of saving a life during peacetime. His honorable discharge in 1985 marked the conclusion of a chapter defined by bravery and professional excellence—traits he carried with him throughout the rest of his life.

Daddy used that brilliant, limitless mind to build a sprawling legacy of hard work and community impact. He was a true entrepreneur and professional force: he owned and operated his own tax business, ran a women’s clothing store, and excelled as a master salesman in consumer and commercial vehicles, as well as the trucking advertising industry. He served as this region’s Director for the 2000 Census. He was also deeply dedicated to his fraternal brotherhood, finding profound purpose and community within his life in Freemasonry as a proud member of Morgan Lodge #10 (Prince Hall Grand Lodge of West Virginia). Morgan Lodge #10 is part of the Prince Hall Freemasonry movement, which traces its origins to 1775, when Prince Hall and fourteen other free Black men were denied admission to white Masonic lodges in Boston and subsequently established their own lodge.

He was his own Swiss Army knife and a master strategist who made MacGyver look like a novice—he could truly build a rocket ship out of a 2x4, some nails, and duct tape if he had enough of it. He possessed a cunning so sharp and a charm so skilled that he could sell ice to an Eskimo in Alaska in the middle of winter.

Even in his retirement, his heart for people kept him moving; he worked as a grocery store clerk and became a certified home health aide, tenderly caring for the elderly until he started dialysis in 2020. He was a provider in every sense of the word. Alongside his devoted wife, Janine Yvonne Duckworth Patterson, whom he loved and walked beside for 54 beautiful years of marriage, he built a fortress. And Daddy also did things to take care of our family that is none of y’all’s business. Just know—he took care of his family. Period.

He was a provider in every sense of the word, right up until his final days. That same spirit of watchful protection and intentional guidance that defined his care for others was, of course, magnified when it came to his daughters. Carl was the ultimate, quintessential Gen X "Girl Dad." When Mommy worked nights and it was his turn to watch the girls, standard babysitting rules went out the window. Instead, he raised his daughters on a steady diet of wonderfully inappropriate cinema, like Evil Dead and whatever else he wanted to watch, treating his girls like his ultimate sidekicks.

But his true masterclasses weren’t taught on a screen; they were taught on the front lines of life. When a neighborhood girl made the mistake of following Jaime off the school bus to the house to start a fight, Christine ran inside to get back up. Daddy didn’t hesitate. He rushed outside, evaluated the situation, and calmly told the little girl to let Jaime get into the yard first. The second Jaime’s feet hit the grass, Daddy gave the legendary command: “Now stump a mud hole in her ass!”

And Jaime didn’t just stomp a mudhole—she stomped a whole sinkhole because that girl made the ultimate mistake of breaking Jaime’s nail and snatching and breaking her single diamond-studded "J" necklace. Meanwhile, when a second girl, built like a brick wall, stepped off the bus to make it two-against-one, Christine knew exactly what to do. Carl Patterson had a strict rule: if one of you is in a fight, then you are both in a fight. Living out her daddy’s blueprint, Christine grabbed a shortened 2x4 and went to work. He didn't raise victims; he raised protectors who stood ten toes down for each other.

Yet, the same man who taught us to hold our ground was equally adept at holding space for us. If you wanted to see the gentler, most nurturing side of Carl Patterson, all you had to do was show up on a Sunday or a holiday—because the man could cook. Those were strictly his days in the kitchen, and he commanded them with absolute mastery. He never wrote down a single recipe, but he didn't need to; his hands knew the art of it, and his family watched him work his magic thousands of times. He operated on one golden rule: sugar went into everything. His table was a legendary spread featuring his famous rice pudding, spiced apples, sweet potato pie, and candied yams, alongside meatloaf, mac and cheese, cornbread, chicken pot pie, spaghetti, pork chops, roast, fried chicken, and whatever was hot off the grill.

And lastly, Carl would and could argue you down about absolutely anything if it went against what he knew to be true. You could present him with all the proof in the world, but he was going to stand firm in his convictions with a confidence so absolute it was artful (and let’s be honest, often highly aggravating!). But there was a sacred lesson in that stubbornness. Carl Patterson ain't ever wrong—but on the mild chance he was, he taught us that if you're going to be loud and wrong, you better at least be confident about it.

Through this, he shaped an ironclad rule within his children: know thyself. Because of him, we learned never to let a soul tell us who we are, and never to let anyone make us question our own worth. He taught us that people will lie to get what they want, and if someone tries to make you doubt yourself instead of admitting their own ignorance, they simply are not your people. He handed us the confidence to say, “If you think I’m wrong, the burden of proof is on you—otherwise, keep it moving.” He gave us our anchors.

No matter what your interaction with our dad was—the good, the bad, or the ugly—you will never forget the encounter. Some of those memories will be joyous, humorous, and filled with lots of love; some will be sad, frustrated, or even angry. But whether you got it in that exact moment, or the lesson comes to you years later, you learned the weight of his presence and his voice. You learned that Carl Patterson was not going to mess around about who he was, and who he still is to our family.

And if that truth doesn’t work for y’all, then in the infamous words of Richard Pryor, delivered straight in our Daddy’s voice… “have a coke and a smile…” Y’all know the rest. As he joins the chorus of those who paved the way before him, he reunites with his beloved family members who greeted him into Glory:

His Parents: Robert “Bob” Lee Patterson, Sr. and Vivian Imogene Young PattersonHis Siblings: Samuel Benjamin, Delma Viola, Walter, and Robert “Buddy” Lee, Jr.

The Living Legacy

Carl’s legacy will be carried forward so he can live through those he left behind. His blueprint of strength, love, and unwavering identity remains with:

His Devoted Wife: Janine Yvonne Duckworth PattersonHis Daughters: Christine (David) and Jaime (Adrian)His Grandchildren: Kailyn and IsaiahHis Last Living Sibling: James Lawrence Patterson

He also leaves behind a host of aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, cousins, friends, and strangers that have been touched by Carl’s spirit way before his transition to become our ancestor along with the others—making sure we are always loved, protected, and know exactly who we are.

Memorial & Support Details

In lieu of flowers, the family requests that charitable contributions be made in Carl Patterson's name to Gilchrist Hospice of Maryland (gilchristcares.org/giving/walls/) to honor the care and dignity they provided.