We Always Marry Patty: A Tale of Family Lore and Love Lessons

Growing up in Boise’s North End, my family lore often felt like improv theater with an Idaho twist. Characters were slightly larger-than-life and customs were forged somewhere between the potato farms of my grandparents and the craft beer taps at my parents’ brewery downtown. Yet there was one constant—an unspoken tradition passed down through generations.

“We always marry Patty,” my grandmother Edith would declare, straight-faced but glinting with sly humor, during Sunday dinners. She wasn’t hallucinating cousins named Patty sprinting down the wedding aisle. No, “Patty” was shorthand for the kind of good-time gal (or guy) who’d charm you out of your boots with one-liners at a barbecue but could still gut a fish with precision.

What my grandmother called "Patty," the rest of the world might call "your forever person." And as I’ve grown older, this quirky family adage has become my personal yardstick for love—an imperfect yet hilarious tool for navigating romance. So, let me show you how the Woodruff "Patty Principle" shaped my worldview and its unexpected lessons for building authentic relationships.

Rule #1: Pattys Are Fun First

The concept of "marrying Patty" originated with my great-grandfather, Roger, who came home smitten after meeting my great-grandmother Edith "Patty" Petersen—the first of many alleged "Pattys." According to family legend, they met at a county fair where Patty beat Roger at both a horseshoe toss and a pie-eating contest in one afternoon. A true Renaissance woman.

“Life’s too short for boring conversations,” my grandmother used to say, recalling how Edith's easy humor made her unforgettable. Looking back at my own relationships, those words ring true. I’ve been drawn to people who can turn even mundane moments into laughter-soaked memories. One boyfriend had this uncanny ability to narrate trips to the grocery store like it was a gripping true crime podcast, dramatizing everything from avocados to expired milk.

Turns out, Grandma wasn’t wrong—fun is a critical ingredient for connection. The world is heavy enough already. Your person should lighten the load, not add extra baggage.

Takeaway Lesson: Fun creates bonds that sustain relationships, but it’s not just about laughter—it’s about presence. Whether it’s board games, cooking dinner, or a long walk, someone who enjoys the doing, not just the destination, may just be your Patty.

Rule #2: Pattys Are Realists With Calloused Hands

Another defining “Patty” characteristic, according to my family: practicality. Edith could hem a dress, bake a bread loaf, and raise five kids while sky-high inflation and droughts threatened the farm. When they moved to Boise in retirement, she applied that same get-it-done practicality to bossing my grandfather around in the kitchen (“You butter the bread evenly, Howard, not like a Jackson Pollock painting”).

Love isn’t all sunsets and stardust—and the Pattys of the world know that. When my grandmother learned I was dating someone who routinely ghosted me for days at a time, she didn’t mince words. “Find someone else, Leslie,” she said. “Let another guy ruin their phone plan trying to read his four-word texts.”

Her advice taught me to stop romanticizing unavailable people. A Patty shows up. A Patty prioritizes you not because it’s convenient, but because you matter.

Takeaway Lesson: Search for someone dependable and grounded. They’re not just there for the peak Instagrammable moments but the unglamorous stuff too—like unclogging the sink or binge-watching bad cable TV during a cold.

Rule #3: A Patty Knows How to Love—And How to Fight

This one’s a bit of family folklore gold. Apparently, during their 50-year marriage, Great-Grandma Edith and Grandpa Roger rarely agreed—on anything, ever. One story recounts how a sunny fly-fishing trip turned into an all-out debate over which bait worked best for catching trout. Did Edith truly call Roger’s lure choice “amateur hour”? It’s possible.

Yet to their granddaughter (my mom), their bickering was never toxic. “They argued like two people who wanted to be heard, but never at the expense of love,” my mom remembers fondly. No grudges. Just big feelings followed by even bigger laughter.

I think there’s something timeless in that sentiment. Relationships inevitably involve conflict, but the way we handle it tells the larger story. Do we critique the bait or attack the fisherman? Do we stew or find resolution?

Takeaway Lesson: A healthy relationship means fighting fair—focusing on shared goals instead of keeping score. And remember, a shared laugh after the argument is always a good sign.

Rule #4: You Don’t Find Patty—You Build Something Together

Here’s the plot twist Grandpa Roger never saw coming: “Marrying Patty” isn’t about magically finding the perfect soulmate. It’s about choosing someone, flaws and all, and growing together.

When I started dating my fiancé, he didn’t fit who I thought Patty was supposed to be. He wasn’t a jokester (he’s reserved); he wasn’t terribly handy (his version of fixing a cabinet is duct tape); and he doesn’t even like pie (I KNOW). But he shows up. He listens. And he remembers the smallest details—like my love of Mary Oliver poetry or the way I drink my coffee.

At first, I worried: Is this what love looks like? Quiet but steady, intimate but unspectacular? My grandmother’s voice cut in: “Marry someone who knows how to laugh—and how to fish. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Translation: "Patty" isn’t one-size-fits-all. Sometimes they sneak up on you while you’re looking for someone else entirely.

Takeaway Lesson: Relationships aren’t born perfect, and the glow-up only happens when both people commit. Do the work, and love transforms itself into something enduring.

Final Thoughts

“We always marry Patty” was never just about family folklore. It was a way to laugh, reflect, and remind ourselves what really matters in love: fun, grit, kindness, and commitment. Those aren’t just traits of mythical "Pattys" but of anyone building something real.

So, the next time you’re second-guessing your relationship or sitting across from someone awkwardly chewing pasta on a first date, remember this: A Patty might not look exactly how you imagined them. But they’ll feel like home in a world full of options.

And if nothing else, at least make sure they butter their bread evenly. Grandma Edith would appreciate it.