Leaving behind a living legacy

BUSINESS
THE HAMILTON SPECTATOR
APRIL 19, 2008
EDITOR AVIVA BOXER
905-526-3235 OR ABOXER@THESPEC.COM
SHERYL NADLER, THE HAMILTON SPECTATOR
Ron Patterson, who sold his Ultramatic adjustable bed empire last year, now makes videos of the dearly departed in good times which become a permanent record of their life.
Leaving behind a living legacy
Ron Patterson thought up the Grand Farewell concept after
the Burlington businessman had a health scare and was told to
get his house in order. A business was born when he made
a documentary about his life.
BY MEREDITH MacLEOD
R
on Patterson has moved on
from peddling beds to the
longest slumber of all.
Well, at least a goodbye
left behind at one’s final exit.
The gregarious Burlington businessman, who sold his Ultramatic
adjustable bed empire last year,
has launched the Grand Farewell, a
video biography
service that
aims to help
people tell their
story and say
adieu after they
no longer can.
The Grand
Farewell is two
parts: a 20minute biographical film
that includes
interviews with
the subject, pictures, home
movies, music, news clippings —
and anything else that can help tell
the story. The second part is a 10minute farewell, a message for
friends and family that can be
shown at a funeral.
“Nobody has ever got out of this
life alive. If you live for another
30 years, you’re young forever on
video,” says Patterson in his gravelly voice.
The farewell shows the dearly
departed in good times and the
videos serve to be a permanent
record of a life lived. Patterson
says the idea is to distribute the
videos to mourners. He said the
videos can help turn a sad occasion into a celebration.
“It’s a tough time (at a funeral).
People don’t
know what to
say. What’s
playing on those
screens gives
people something to remember and celebrate. It’s normal to leave this
world. (These
videos) say this
was a really
great ride.”
Patterson
admits that
some don’t think their lives have
been interesting enough to warrant a movie. Some see it as egotistical. Others balk at the cost:
ranging between $15,000 and
$30,000. He’s even heard people
say it could curse them.
“You can spend money in stupider ways,” he counters. “This is
‘You can spend money
in stupider ways.
This is not about dying.
It’s about life.’
not about dying. It’s about life.”
But he tells non-believers to
imagine what it would feel like to
find a video of the grandfather
they never knew. “It would be like
slipping into a time capsule.”
Patterson hires a professional
camera crew, producer, director,
interviewer and scriptwriter to
produce the videos. The first visit
is a casual talk lasting two to three
hours.
The subject is left with a package
of about 300 questions about their
life, interests, achievements, families and careers which is mailed
back to the Grand Farewell.
From all that, a life story is
woven. The tale is fed into a
TelePrompTer and the subject
reads it on camera, with a makeup
artist hovering nearby.
The whole process takes about
21/ 2 months.
Patterson says he hasn’t come
across anyone doing something
similar in Canada, although filming of funerals has become more
common.
Patterson, known to most as
Mr. Ron — it’s even on the licence
plate of his cream-coloured Bentley — got the idea for the Grand
Farewell out of a glimpse of his
own mortality. At the time, Patterson was battling emphysema
and was told by doctors that he
should get his house in order. A
bout of pneumonia landed him in
intensive care breathing with a
ventilator for 11 days.
“Frankly, I was frightened,”
Patterson writes on his website,
thegrandfarewell.com.
“Frightened that this life of
mine was over. Frightened of the
unknown. Frightened that I had
not accomplished all that I had
intended. Frightened that my
loved ones would forget me when
I left them forever.”
In fact, Patterson’s philosophy is
that people die twice: once when
they leave this world and then
again when they’re forgotten.
Then he went to the funeral of a
friend who died suddenly at 53 in a
scuba-diving accident. He was a
successful, funny, much-loved
man, but Patterson says his funeral didn’t reflect his life. A laptop
flashed disjointed and unexplained photos and a hastily crafted eulogy was spoken. That was it.
It convinced Patterson to tape a
farewell for his loved ones. His
oxygen tank was hidden from
view.
“My own death sentence received a stay from the governor,”
writes Patterson. “But make no
mistake — it’s a temporary stay.
The odds of getting out of this
alive aren’t encouraging.”
But it all led to what Patterson
says is his calling: helping people
craft the goodbyes that dignify the
lives that went before.
It’s apparent Patterson has
death on his mind. About five
years ago, he built a giant, $1-million mausoleum at Woodland
cemetery that’s complete with a
24-karat gold inscription over the
door, a serenity gazebo and garden, and a life-sized mural inside
of Patterson and his wife, Donna,
riding a Harley.
The Grand Farewell launched in
September and Patterson rents
office space in a tower on the
North Service Road.
Canadian entertainer Gordie
Tapp, best known for a stint on
Hee Haw, pitched Ultramatic beds
for 25 years in TV commercials.
He’s back plugging on the Grand
Farewell website. Patterson says
he’ll advertise selectively in publications and on websites geared to
an upscale crowd.
Dressed in a gold jacket, black
shirt and yellow polka dot tie and
adorned with big diamond rings
on six fingers and a diamond
encrusted watch, the 66-year-old
Patterson isn’t ready to retire,
despite his wealth.
“It’s a little bit of insane behaviour, but I chose something I like.
I like selling and marketing. I don’t
want the phone to ring off the
hook.
“I just want a few who want to
leave something behind.”
mmacleod@thespec.com
905-526-3408