Basically A Tribute to Dr. Lewis I. Patterson

Basically…

If you know, you know.

If you don’t know, then you probably didn’t have the privilege and honor of taking one of Lewis Patterson’s computer science courses.

Let me enlighten you. Dr. Patterson would not let that word be used in his classes because

There is no basically: either it is, or it isn’t.

The word basically likely still causes some computer science alums to cringe. Or maybe, if you’re like me, it’s now your pet peeve too. Just ask anyone on my team — or any poor vendor sales rep who’s dared to use it while explaining something to me.

Dr. Patterson came across as intimidating at first glance. His stoic expressions, the high and tight haircut, his uniform-like style of dress, and his regimented lifestyle all combined to give off the vibe of a very serious person. Or maybe former military.

But underneath that intimidating exterior was someone who cared — deeply — and who had a dry, stealthy sense of humor that would sneak up on you… usually about five seconds after he said something and that slow, sly grin started to spread across his face.

During my time as a student, I took every one of his classes that I could. I knew I would be challenged, and I knew that if I was struggling, he would make it make sense. Except maybe in Operating Systems. That class was HARD, and I’m still not sure how I made it thru with a good grade, except by his well-timed comment over my shoulder while I was staring at a computer screen in the computer lab at Olin.

“KISS. KISS.”

Keep it simple, stupid.

It wasn’t an insult. It was a reminder. He knew how to cut through the noise and bring you back to clarity.

Dr Patterson pushed me. And I know he did the same to others.

He believed I could do far more than I thought I could. Like when I wanted to finish my art minor, but the class I needed conflicted with his database course. I was ready to drop it. He looked at me and said,

Take it. You’ll be fine.

He said it like it was obvious. I believed him; so I did it. It wasn’t until later that I realized he’d signed me up to learn a brand-new programming language — and the complexities of SQL — in one semester while only attending 1 of 3 classes each week. If he’d told me that part up front, I probably would’ve run.

He never discouraged ambition. When I pitched the idea for my senior interim project, a probably ill-advised, overly ambitious security initiative on the student network, he didn’t bat an eye. He believed it was a worthy project and that we could make it work. And we did. I learned more in those long hours in his office that January than I did in some entire courses. I will always treasure that time. Dr. Patterson wasn’t just a professor. He was an experience. A rite of passage for comp sci majors. A man who could strike fear in your heart with the phrase: “sideboard.”

But oh. The pride you felt when you successfully answered that question correctly.

He was the kind of professor who sometimes made you question your intelligence, your major and your life choices— but somehow made you feel smarter just by surviving his courses.

His wardrobe was… consistent.

His demeanor: unflappable.

And those four perfectly aligned push pins on his bulletin board? A symbol of order in a chaotic world. He made us better students. Better professionals. And, in many cases, better people. His legacy lives on in clean, well-documented code, in every eyeroll we give to lazy tech jargon, and in every former student who still twitches a little when someone says “basically.”

Rest well, Dr. Patterson