He was born in September of 1948 at Annapolis Emergency Hospital to Puerto Rican
descendant Charles A Pastrana and Swiss descendant and matriarch Ruth (Buser) Pastrana. He
was the third of nine siblings.
Dad loved being outside. If his school years could have been spent there, even in the parking lot
instead of the classroom, he would have learned so much more. Bringing home injured owls,
snakes, or flying squirrels was probably not the homework the teachers intended, but it seemed
more fitting than writing assignments. Dad began his masonry career aside his brothers, led by
Charlie, upon leaving high school in the 10th grade.
Of course, my parents met while both working. Dad was pouring concrete at a local
veterinarian’s office when he met Mom (Regina Gately), a vet tech at the time. Married in June
1969 at the Justice of the Peace in Hagerstown, together they incorporated the future Baywind
Farm and raised Morgan horses. Everyone told my parents they were crazy for their first
purchase of a beloved 10-year-old stallion named Imp. In hindsight, it was the best decision
ever. Dad went on to make quite a name for their farm, winning championships in saddle seat,
carriage driving and even jumping. Eventually their farm would grow to more than just Imp and
the move from Selby to Davidsonville was the perfect opportunity for Dad to expand on his love
for animals and the outdoors. Designing and constructing several barns and paddocks and
grading the hilly back yard came as naturally to him as it would the best of professional
architects. Over the years, more horses, some lop eared bunnies, too many dogs to count, and
of course a barn cat or ten were Dad’s contented and constant companions.
In addition to working masonry and building Baywind Farm, he also enjoyed several hobbies.
Working on car engines and, rumor has it, drag racing were his youthful pastimes. Later in life,
he dove into photography, bicycling, body building, archery, hardscaping his Davidsonville
property, and restoring old lawn mowers and tractors. During those rare moments when he
propped up his feet, he enjoyed watching the talents of Tiger and other golf pros, and one
particularly favorite extreme sports athlete. Come Monday afternoon, coffee in hand, he would
spend an hour or so talking over the weekend’s competitive results with his mom. The 7-11
coffee from that morning was probably long past fresh, but after a hard day of work, it was her
quiet company on the back porch, overlooking the yard and woods in which he grew up with his
brothers, that gave him rest.
Dad was my quiet time and my thrill seeker, all wrapped up in one amazing person. He could
just as easily sit with me on a tailgate and gaze upon the land quietly or be my partner in crime
as first-time skydivers. (As if I had asked him if he wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich ...
Yep.) Later in life, I shared the viewing pleasure of seeing my Dad evolve into the most beloved
of all Poppops! Dad's natural patience pleased the likes of his grandchildren. Whether he was
teaching my Jusa how to target shoot with bow and arrow before she had begun kindergarten
or adding a wood block to a brake pedal on a tractor for my youthful Sky to drive or teaching
my pre-teen Drew how to do burnouts in the back gravel driveway, Dad never let the day go
without a memory.
Richard was survived by his wife, Regina Pastrana, his daughter Jennifer Selby (Brett), his three
grandchildren, Justine Brady, Skylar Selby and Drew Selby as well as his extraordinary siblings,
Lyn Durland (Dan), Alan Pastrana (Diane), Robert Pastrana (Laura), Ronny Pastrana (Anita),
Dawn Powell (Dean), Roger Pastrana (Juli), Kate Howard (Damien) and Russell Pastrana (Paula).
I miss Dad’s ease and uniqueness. I am certain he was one of the smartest people I have ever
met. I always appreciated his quiet, "matter of fact" simplicity; he could say more with “a look”
than many words could convey. Even so, in retrospect, I wish I had figured out how to listen
harder and I wish I had asked more questions.
Online condolences and photos are encouraged. Take a minute and remember a moment or
ten and I would hope you could share a few online. Nothing heals the soul more than to hear
about funny antics or priceless moments shared with a loved one.
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