“The pain we feel now is the happiness we had before. That’s the deal.”

C.S. Lewis

Thinking of you Chris and also Joyceln......I sometimes think of this about Bob...at least you are spared living in these times with our current insane president and the world topsy turvy. Doesn't make it easier but is some small comfort......
a

Wow, a year can seem like an eternity or blink depending our how you experienced the time. Chris is still so very much missed and will be for years to come. He was an unusually intelligent and insightful lawyer to the UC Berkeley legal community, a talented and fun father to Vince & Gabe, and a loving husband, Jocelyn. From what I hear, also a thoughtful and engaged son and brother. May his memory continue to be a blessing to all......
Ann

Thinking of you all on this difficult day!

Love,

Ann

His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world, “This was a man.” 

Shakespeare

Peace to all the Larkin & Patti Families. We loved our periodic encounters with unassuming and gentlemanly Chris, oh that there had been more!
The Dale Martin Family

A star in the heavens now shines brighter...thanks for continuing to be a bright light in our lives!

We knew Chris mostly as a father through my son, Gabe L. who became close to Gabe P when they were in preschool. Not sure why but of the many times we visited the home it was almost always Chris who answered our knock. His warm smile would greet us at the door, and his inquisitive nature often asked a friendly question. Occasionally there was an intriguing story he would share; he made us feel more than welcome.

When we shared meals he his food always had an elegant look as well as a delectable taste. It was clear that Chris did almost everything with a touch of class, focus, and talent. He was very special, not only as father and husband but as a friend. He will be missed.

The tributes on this page are so fabulous even though they left me sobbing. It seems clear we are not letting him go, ever. I loved Chris for many reasons but I'm glad to see that others also were impressed by his culinary pursuits. I have told Jocelyn this before but my first memory of Chris was from when he cooked dinner for us at their apartment out in the Avenues. It was a ragu tomato and meat sauce on parppadelle noodles and it was so amazingly good I was awestruck. And I give full credit to Chris and Jocelyn for turning me on to Marcella Hazen. Marcella's lemon chicken recipe is now my signature dish and I learned it from Chris and J.

But you know, I also loved to talk to Chris about law. I just loved to hear his reasoning about issues. I often asked him questions about what he thought about something just to hear his opinion, and I am not very often interested in hearing people's opinions. It was just always so damn interesting!

And then there was the competition I was having with him about who could travel for the longest with the smallest baggage. I don't think he knew we were having a competition but when he came back from visiting Vince in Amsterdam he showed me his newest bag and how little he brought with him and I bought that same bag. But I did him one up - I got the smallest bag ever that I used for a week in Italy and I meant to show it to him the last time I saw him but I didn't.

And of course, there is his greatest achievement - those fabulous boys. He lives forever in them, not only because in some uncanny way one looks exactly like him and the other acts exactly like him, but because they are truly the product of all the love, energy and thoughtfulness Chris had to give.

I suppose life goes on but this is a very very hard patch.

As trite as it sounds, I can’t let Chris become part of my past.

I might turn on the high-end stereo system, which MY husband spent a fortune on because he, too, is an audiophile, like Chris. Maybe I’m blasting opera—as he did in the San Francisco apartment-- or the Grateful Dead, or maybe Springsteen for Jocelyn’s benefit…

Chris will be there, too.

When I prepare a delicious meal, probably Italian, serving it with an intentionally selected wine, and ending the meal with an espresso, or cappuccino with just the right amount of foam…

Chris will be there, too.

I might be hiking, biking, or maybe I’ll travel to Europe and think of the blogs and photographs he takes to capture these adventures for all of us.

Or when my son does intensive, extensive, meticulous research before he acquires something—a new bike, a camera, camping equipment, maybe a car--to make sure it’s exactly what he wants and needs…

Chris will be there, too.

He left us way too soon.
But it doesn’t mean I need to let go of him.

Holding you in the light.

Originally posted on Medium, September 2, 2017 by Andy Goldblatt, UC Berkeley risk manager:

I avoid writing about work, but this week UC Berkeley made the news for a tragic reason: our lead attorney, Christopher Patti, was killed by a hit-and-run driver (suspect since arrested) while biking in Sonoma County last Sunday morning.

One of his colleagues called that evening to let me know. I texted the news to my co-workers in Risk Services, chatted briefly with my boss, wandered the house in a daze, slept poorly, and functioned with my mind elsewhere the rest of the week.

I wasn’t friends with Chris. We didn’t get together outside work. But at work, we were close companions. We either exchanged emails or were part of the same email conversation about a hundred times per week. And then of course we were often in meetings (and sometimes brutal mediations) together.

For these reasons, people associated us. Chris and Andy, Chris and Andy. After one crisis, I debriefed with the chief risk officer for the University of California system and she said, “I thought about sending reinforcements, which we often do for other campuses. But then I thought, Chris and Andy are at Berkeley, they’ve got this.”

That’s just one illustration of how the association worked to my benefit — because I was very much the junior partner.

Although I don’t bring a lot of ego to work (it leads to unhappiness when I do), I know I’ve proven myself at the higher education equivalent of the big leagues, and therefore I operate with confidence. I feel there aren’t many staff people on campus smarter and more knowledgeable about the organization than I am.

Chris was one of those exceptions.

I always hesitated before disagreeing with him, because going against him was like stepping into the batter’s box against Koufax. But when circumstance dictated, I took my swings. Every now and then I managed a weak grounder. A few times I put enough wood on the ball to reach the outfield. Once or twice I actually smacked a hit. But for the most part, I was Mario Mendoza up there, flailing haplessly at fastballs down the middle.

The only consolation was that most everyone else — including some really sharp attorneys — had the same experience. None of us begrudged him, because he struck us out with neither arrogance nor malice. He was just a star pitcher helping his team win. And among his more remarkable feats at UC Berkeley (a highly contentious workplace, in case you doubted) was the universal respect he maintained despite sitting in one of the hottest seats on campus.

At this age everyone has been through a few unsettling deaths. Our losses remind us how important it is to treasure every moment and every person close to us. But time passes, the grief inevitably diminishes — a good thing, as it allows us to function — and we forget. (At least I do.) So we’re shocked anew each time someone suddenly dies and we’re forced to remember that we are vulnerable, that everything can be taken from us in an instant, and that even the disadvantaged among us have much to be grateful for.

Chris’s passing reminded me of two other things. The first is the risk all of us who exercise on public thoroughfares face from inattentive, impatient, or intoxicated drivers. As a society we have fetishised the risk of terrorism but have ignored the risk of bad driving, which is many orders of magnitude worse, causing over 30,000 deaths and countless injuries per year. I ignore this risk because I must; otherwise I’d have to stop running for distance or go to some joyless gym and run on a machine.

But the second thing it reminded me of is more positive: I’m not finished yet. And when I grow up, I want to be just as good as Chris.

By the way: the photo of Chris used by the Press-Democrat and other media doesn’t do him justice. He had a lot more hair, a lot more color, and a lot more presence.

It has been my privilege to know Chris since we were students together at The University of Virginia Law School in the early 1980s. Although I moved away from the USA in about 1987, all down the years since then Chris and I, and Jocelyn too, stayed in touch. I saw them in Berkeley, and latterly in Spain where I live. Chris was an excellent correspondent, and we wrote to each other regularly. I followed his career with admiration, and not a little envy. After he had been appointed Chief Counsel of UC Berkeley, I enjoyed greatly a guided tour of the Berkeley campus; it was obvious to me that Chris felt, justifiably, a good deal of pride in his position.

I have enjoyed very much reading of their travels around Europe with Vince and Gabe, Jocelyn as the scriptwriter and Chris as the photographer. As recently as a few weeks ago we had been discussing meeting yet again, as he and Jocelyn were planning another cycling trip, this time to Mallorca, Spain. Thus, although separated by a continent and an ocean, I felt very close to Chris and Jocelyn, Vince and Gabe. While my feelings cannot compare to the intensity of those that his family will feel, Chris's death leaves a hole in my affections that will be very difficult, if not impossible, for anyone else to fill.

Sending condolences to this wonderful family.