Catherine Paiz
In Loving Memory
Cathy and I were friends since we met at a Jazzfest weekend in New Orleans many years ago. I was wilting under the intense, muggy heat and Cathy offered me a shady spot behind her chair and lent me her water fan. She practically rescued me that day. We kept in touch all these years, got to see each other when she came to New York a few years ago, and even spoke a couple of weeks before she died. I became concerned when I couldn't reach her for a while and just googled her and learned of her death. She was a sweet and kind person. My heart breaks as I wish her soul eternal peace. Hers was a friendship I valued and I will miss her forever.
Rest in peace, dear friend.
I send this condolence to myself, Yuri, her longtime friend of almost 45 years for though she was my best friend, she was more like a sister to me. Our friendship began when I was assigned to project manage a hotel in Sacramento in 1977. Her Uncle and Aunt owned a motel down the street from my project and this is where I was temporarily housed during the construction process. Cathy had just moved to Sacramento and had been living at her Uncle and Aunt’s motel where she began the process of looking for a job. As a semi-permanent resident, I would find the family most evenings after dinner lounging by the pool and as I didn’t have any family or friends in the area would find myself socializing with them. We were the same age (about 7 months apart) and had many things in common, so began my friendship with Cathy. She found a job working at the local TV station as I continued to complete my hotel project. The project was taking much longer than expected, so it was decided that the money the company was paying for my motel room would be less if I were to get a studio apartment. By this time, Cathy had been at her place of employment long enough that she, too, should look for a more permanent place to live. As we became better friends, we thought, it would be cheaper for us to get a 2-bedroom apartment and share utility expenses.
Her photography hobby started in Sacramento where she took numerous classes and at one time even set up a mini darkroom in her bathroom. She didn’t much like her photo being taken but was most comfortable behind the lens. She had a keen eye and took amazing photos.
She liked the outdoors as did I and we both liked to fish. I recall once we rented a boat to go fishing and my fiancé at the time sitting in the middle of the boat, kept rocking it. He would stand to cast and in doing so, would cause the boat to rock. We kept telling him to “sit-down” but some men just don’t listen and eventually we capsized and all of us along with the contents went into the lake. As we were swimming, we dragged the boat to shore and then would swim back out to collect those items that we had lost. We right-sided the boat, bailed out the water and began to take stock of what we had lost. Cathy became distressed and said “Where is my fishing rod? I can’t find my fish rod!” I said, “It must be at the bottom of the lake” She became even more distressed and said, “That was my grandfather’s rod, I can’t believe I lost it!” I said, “Then we must go fishing for it.” The fiancé said, “That’s impossible, we’ll never find it” I said, “We must try, I know we can do it” So we rowed to the approximate spot where the boat had capsized and on my fishing rod, I put a huge hook with a heavy weight and started to fish/dredge for it. Low and behold, I pulled up a line and continued to pull it up and there at the end was Cathy’s grandfather’s fishing rod. She looked at me in amazement, it was a miracle.
We lived together for about 2 years, I broke up with that fiancé and moved back to Los Angeles and she would remain in Sacramento.
We remained friends always keeping in touch. Her career working in television would eventually bring her to Los Angeles. It was at that time when I was single again that we decided to become roommates again. Cathy became an important member of my family and spent many holidays with them. My mother who passed away last year would often refer to her as her “other daughter”. Time marches on, careers change, and her own family commitments would eventually draw her back to Salt Lake City to be near her ailing parents, but we always remained “sister friends”.
Though she would sometimes complain about the cold winters in Salt Lake City (longing for the sunshine days in Los Angeles) she had built her life there and had become very active in her duties at the Cathedral. She volunteered for all sorts of things, constantly keeping herself busy as she derived much enjoyment from helping and enriching other people’s lives. Though we lived apart, we were supposed to grow old together. I cannot imagine a world, my world without Cathy. She was loved and will be missed more than mere words can express.