* * Pat Moss is happy to be here

My wife Jane recently invited me to join her at a local gallery. The event was for the adult and continuing education class that she had taken through VT, a class where she and her classmates painted still-life art. 

While there I met a small, white-haired woman who introduced herself to me as “Pat.” She was totally gracious and friendly, fondly resting her hand on my shoulder as we spoke. She’s relatively new to the community and since her arrival she’s showered us with love, devotion, and money. It turns out she’s one of America's most talented, famous, beloved and financially successful artists.

You know her as P. Buckley Moss.

She had no business or family ties here, having grown up in New York and spent much of her adult life in the Waynesboro, VA, area. So I got together with her and her daughter Becky the other day at the gallery to ask about her move to the New River Valley.

Pat told me she grew up on Staten Island, in sight of Ellis Island where her mother arrived from Sicily as a baby. “Mom arrived in 1904. I went to high school and college in New York City.”

In spite of her notoriety, Pat hardly sees herself as any different from the rest of us. Becky said, “Unlike Mom’s self-image, I see her as a celebrity. People want to touch and be part of celebrities.”

“I tell people I am not any more special than they are. It’s the truth,” Pat said.

Becky said, “We grew up with ‘You’re not any better than anybody else and they’re not better than you.’”

“I always wish I could give more,” Pat confessed.

Now mind you this is someone who gave Virginia Tech over $10 million to become the signature benefactor for the Moss Center for the Arts. She supports a wide range of causes, including her beloved P. Buckley Moss Foundation for Children’s Education that gives scholarships to educators.

“I had four periods of art in high school and I loved it! I was encouraged by my mother to pursue my arts.”

Becky said, “Mom is dyslexic. She has trouble reading.”

Pat continued, “I failed my way through grammar school and most of high school. I had teachers who were wonderfully understanding.” She went to Cooper Union in New York, a free college. Afterwards, she moved with her husband to Waynesboro, where she raised six children; Becky was her third.

“It was wonderful growing up in Waynesboro,” Becky said. “Everybody knew one of the Mosses.”

Along the way, Pat’s artwork became popular and she began to build a following and become commercially successful. “I love to work. I am 82 and I never want to retire.” She built a reputation for her warm, subtle styles, especially of rural scenes around Waynesboro and its Mennonite people. “They live their religion every day. They are helpful to each other and they support one another.”

While in Waynesboro, she started to show commercially. Her second husband was a marketing genius and soon shows started selling out and her fan base grew. What I really wanted to know is what brought her and her amazing generosity to Blacksburg. I mentioned how she was so open and accessible.

Pat asked rhetorically, “Have you ever been in a happier university or happier atmosphere than here? Have you met anybody who hates Virginia Tech? The values are good. People want to do the right thing. There are no snobs.”

Becky agreed, “The whole idea of the Ut Prosim (Tech’s motto, That I may serve), filters through the community. We have really felt that. People here are so welcoming and helpful. They want to see people succeed. That doesn’t happen everywhere.”

Pat said, “I moved here two years ago. It’s been great! Oh, my gosh, I love it! There are such caring people here.”

I asked, “How do you view the difference between ‘Pat’ and ‘P. Buckley Moss’?”

“I don’t know P. Buckley Moss,” she claimed. “I don’t know that I’d want to know her. She doesn’t exist. Part of ‘P. Buckley…’ was to be not identified as a woman. I was showing once in Boston. A man came to me and said, ‘Oh, my gosh, you’re a woman. I’m so disappointed!’ He wanted to deal with me (on a painting). I said, ‘Especially for you, it’s twice the price.’ He hounded me the rest of the evening. I told him, ‘I don’t want anybody to know that you have a painting of mine in your house.’ I never relented.”

“I have never lived in a more nurturing environment,” Becky smiled. “When we moved into this gallery, we were moving big, heavy things in from the van. Several guys just walked up and asked if we needed help. It was wonderful.”

“We love it here,” they chimed.

“It really is a special place,” Becky said.