Patricia Scholl-Brown, age 89, left our world on October 28, 2024. She resided in Laguna Woods, California.

Pat is survived by her daughters Jacqueline Sugueti, Jessica Scholl-Garza and Jennifer Werner; sons-in-law Rudy Sugueti, John Garza and Matt Werner; brother Tom Pritchard; sister-in law Yvonne Pritchard; niece Diane Ellingham; nephew Ian Pritchard;, and grandchildren Ben, Maggie, Adam, Charlie, Luke, and Sebastian. She was preceded in death by husbands Harry Brown, Michael D. Scholl and Bryant Rogers. The family wishes to express sincere gratitude to Maggie Rodriguez for her kindness, support and care during Pat's last year. Pat's remains will be scattered off Catalina Island in a private ceremony.

All who knew Pat knew she was a 5'3" British force of nature.

What few could fully understand was the remarkable adventure of her life, powered by her smarts, ambition, charisma, and restlessness. Patricia Pritchard was born July 16, 1935 in Birmingham, England to Thomas and Hilda Pritchard. Her father was a bus driver and she grew up during World War II as bombs fell on factories near her hometown. After studying nursing at Middlesex University, she left England for Bermuda and Canada, and then for California, including San Francisco, Marin County, Avalon, Chico, Long Beach and Laguna Woods. On her adventure she worked hard always -- as a nurse, a British Airways flight attendant, and the co-owner of a beloved local pharmacy. She skied, golfed, swam, rode horses, and played tennis.

Even to the end Pat was on the move, unstoppable – she bought a top-speed scooter to be sure of it.

Pat raised her three daughters to be fireballs, too. She gifted them hobbies of horse riding, violin, clarinet, downhill skiing and numerous team sports. All while working as a nurse and managing a home with a menagerie of horses, dogs, cats, guinea pigs, horned toads and turtles.  On Catalina Island, she continued her career as a nurse at both the Avalon clinic and hospital. She could often be seen careening around the island hills in her open air Citroen Mehari, gears be damned.

Pat was a fantastic cook and it was important to her to have sit-down, home-cooked family meals for dinner. Her only missteps in the kitchen were the dreaded liver and onions as well as microwaved mushrooms in margarine.  Her Christmas dinners were exceptional - she perfected the crackling on the pork roast and her Yorkshire pudding was magnificent. Guests were terrified and thrilled when she would light the Christmas pudding on fire after pouring far too much brandy on top.

She was a fierce defender of her daughters. After three ill-advised perms in the early 1980s, which turned long, straight Jan Brady tresses into Shirley Temple-ish hairdos, her daughters were given the nickname "Tumbleweed" by the local tweens. Upon hearing this, Pat maniacally chased them down in the Mehari through the streets of Avalon, much to her daughters' horror.

She was a beautiful downhill skier and could often be heard calling out to her daughters to "get out of the trees and learn how to ski properly!"; She loved to travel, collecting questionable souvenirs and teapots along the way; She enjoyed golfing with Harry Brown, meticulously marking his strokes in Sharpie; She cherished lunches and tea with the Daughters of the British Empire in Laguna Woods; She loved eating fried calamari and oysters overlooking the Pacific; She loved her cat Muffin, who was loyal to her until the end.

Pat had an amazing fashion sense and was always dressed impeccably. Shoes and jewelry were thoughtfully paired with sharp attire and perfectly coiffed hair, always suited to the occasion.

Pat was nobody's fool and had no use for filters. You always knew how she felt - like it or not. Her directness could be felt sharply, especially for loved ones making poor fashion decisions.

Pat crisscrossed the world but never forgot her roots in England, especially her beloved bother Tom and his family. She really brought out the Britishness for her grandchildren. "Nana" delighted them with a spine-tingling wicked witch cackle they begged for, and captivating games of 'Let it Wander' and 'Two Little Dickie Birds' during holiday dinners. Sadly, after years of trying, they never taught her to say "water" without an accent.

Pat leaves behind a family who loved her dearly. Jacqueline, Jessica and Jennifer were left not only a cabinet full of jangly jewelry but also her best qualities, accompanied with a healthy dose of British wit. They plan to use these gifts to remember the best of her, and to honor their mother in their lives.