When Physical Therapy Means First Names and Open Hearts

Charles Clardy had one instruction for his son before the dinner at the Peabody Hotel.

Tell Ray I said hello.

Doctor of Physical Therapy Carlos Clardy, EdD, spent years hearing his father speak of Dr. Ray Patterson, the young physical therapy educator at the University of Tennessee Health Sciences who had meant so much during a time that demanded more than good teaching. But Carlos had never met him. So that evening, when he saw an older man step off the elevator with his wife, he walked over, introduced himself and said his name.

He didn't have to say anything else. Carlos watched Ray's mouth drop and face grow wistful. "He said, Charles Clardy," Carlos recalled. "I said, well, yes, that's my dad."

For the rest of the night, Ray kept Carlos close. When the group moved to dinner, Ray pointed to the chair beside him. They talked throughout evening, Ray asking about Charles, swapping stories, filling in the years. Before the night's end, Ray made one thing clear. If he found out Carlos had been in Knoxville without coming to see him, there would be trouble. They were friends now too.

What It Meant to Be a Student in 1968

Ray was a young faculty member at the university, not far in age from some of the students he was teaching. The physical therapy program was young too in 1968, still working toward its first accreditation. Memphis that year was a city in grief and tension. Martin Luther King Jr. had just been assassinated. The municipal garbage workers' strike was underway. Ray recalled walking the accreditation team through picket lines.

"You can't imagine the fear," he said.

Into that era walked Charles Clardy, an Army veteran from Clarksville, Tennessee. A name his mother handed him on a piece of paper led to a phone call, then to the physical therapy department, then to a physics prerequisite at Austin Peay State University and a seat in the program. Charles was one of the oldest students in his class and one of very few Black students. He had seen enough of the world to know the difference between a teacher who tolerated you and one who saw you. Ray was the second kind.

Charles Clardy, pictured in the UT Health Sciences yearbook, later joined the admissions committee with a mission to bring more students who looked like him into the physical therapy program.

"We didn't have to hold back or worry about what we were saying to each other," Charles said. "He just seemed to understand the time that I was going through in PT school, and what it was with race relations at that time."

Ray grew up in rural Mississippi, in a small town with 52 people in his high school graduating class. He decided early in his career what kind of educator he wanted to be. His PT program chair taught him something in action. Give students the technical science of physical therapy, but make sure they understand they're treating a human being, not just "an arm and a leg or something."

For Charles, that made an impression. "It's with his influence, talking to him and stuff, really, what got me through the program," he said of Ray. "He was someone I could go to and talk to and get good advice from."

Careers Crafted in Continuing Education

Physical therapist Ray Patterson, EdD, eventually spent decades building and advancing physical therapy programs across the country. His wife, Linda, earned a master's degree in continuing and adult education from UT in Knoxville and served as executive director of two hospital foundations, developing continuing medical education programs for healthcare providers in communities, where travel to a major city for professional development wasn't an option.

The Pattersons felt the same conviction that a solid education doesn't stop at graduation. Ray picked up a motto early in his career through UT's continuing education office. "He who was educated yesterday and stops learning today is uneducated tomorrow." For a field evolving as rapidly as physical therapy, he said, giving students a strong foundation was only the beginning. The responsibility to keep them learning never ends.

Linda put it plainly. The PT educational program is rigorous, she noted, and there's nothing like hearing from outstanding clinicians who have been through the same rigor and gone on to make names for themselves. It gives students not only something to look forward to but also a reason to push through what it takes to earn the degree.

They have been married 64 years this summer, high-school sweethearts from towns five miles apart, married after their second year of college. Linda tells people they've been married longer than most people are old. Ray said he's looking forward to the next 64.

Giving Back With Purpose

When the Dr. Ray and Linda Patterson Distinguished Lecture Series at UT Health Sciences came together, it kicked off with the right person at the podium. Dr. Barbara Connolly, professor and chair emerita of Physical Therapy is the only person to hold the latter distinction in the program's history. She's also maintained a close professional relationship with Ray for years through the Tennessee Physical Therapy Association.

Her talk, titled "Plant a Seed, Grow a Tree," traced the program's humble beginnings, the Pattersons' early involvement and the future of a profession focused on establishing physical therapists as movement experts the world over.

The Pattersons came to give the way they have come to most things in their lives, practically, together and without interest in recognition. Both grew up in families of modest means. Ray's father didn't finish high school. Linda's father had one year of college. Linda touched on the biblical story of the widow's mite to explain their philosophy of financial decisions and giving back.

"Smaller amounts of money can go a long way if they're used properly," she said, "and we hoped we would be able to come up with something that would make a start and perhaps encourage other people."

Their giving extends beyond the lecture series. The Pattersons donated funds to renovate sensory rooms at Dolly Parton Children's Hospital, driven by a longstanding interest in pediatrics and the intersection of sensory rehabilitation and physical therapy. Linda described hoping to find a way to "marry some of these two initiatives" as the series evolves, connecting the clinical work being done with children to the education being built in Memphis.

"Ray and Linda Patterson demonstrate what philanthropy at its best looks like," said Advancement's Amanda Armstrong, director of regional development, "showing how generosity can fuel innovation, strengthen educational excellence and create enduring impact for students, faculty and the broader community."

When asked what word comes to mind when he thinks of UT Health Sciences, Ray didn't hesitate. "One word," he said. "Potential."

The Program That Finds Its People

Barry Dale, DPT, PhD, chair of the university's Department of Physical Therapy, heard about the lecture series coming to fruition and felt the weight of what it could become. "It's a game changer," he said. "As a flagship program, we need to engage on a national level, and that's one opportunity we see with this."

The department earned full 10-year reaccreditation in 2024 and has spent recent years growing its faculty and sharpening its vision. That vision, increasingly, centers on positioning physical therapists as movement experts, a national conversation within the profession that the lecture series is designed to advance. The goal is to bring the leading voices in the conversation to Memphis, and eventually to clinicians across Tennessee and globally through virtual access, rather than always asking practitioners to travel to them.

Ray's ambition for the series furthers that aim. He wants it grow to include clinical continuing education, the kind of immersive professional development that updates practice and keeps clinicians current in a changing field.

"Ray Patterson cared about his students deeply, and it shows in the people who still talk about him decades later," said Ashley Harkrider, PhD, dean of the College of Health Professions. "He and Linda are giving the next generation of physical therapists that same investment, just in a different form."

Like Father, Like Son

Carlos Clardy grew up making occasional visits to Baptist Hospital Downtown, where his father Charles worked as a physical therapist, sometimes joining him on home health visits. He always wanted to do physical therapy. But when he finished his undergraduate degree in 1999, his father encouraged him to wait. The industry was shifting, insurance landscapes were uncertain and the timing felt wrong. Carlos went on to earn a master's degree, worked for a period and moved back to Memphis.

He became ready to try again; he told his parents he still wanted PT school. This time, Charles said, let's make it happen. Carlos worked on prerequisites. And on one of his first days in the PT program, his father offered a request. Ask whether Ray Patterson is still around. But the faculty said no.

"I didn't know the relationship really between them until the Pattersons were in town a few months ago," Carlos said. "That's when I really understood." The night Ray said his father's name before Carlos had finished introducing himself.

Now a DPT and professor, Carlos also chairs the same admissions committee where his father once served. Charles joined the committee in the late 1970s after noticing, several years into his career at Baptist Downtown, there were no Black or minority students coming through the program. He called the head of PT, met with the dean and went on recruiting trips. On the admissions committee, he reviewed transcripts and sat across from applicants, telling those who weren't ready yet exactly what they needed to do to come back stronger.

Every student he recommended finished the program, Charles said. Every one of them passed their state boards.

Carlos bears the same mission in high schools and junior highs across the region, raising awareness of a doctoral PT program many students don't know about. When he tells people he teaches physical therapy, they often assume he means at a community college. "I tell them, no," he said. "UT Health Sciences has a DPT program."

More than 90% of students who accept offers from the program cite the interview experience as the deciding factor, Carlos said. They come to campus, meet the faculty, feel the atmosphere and stay. Faculty still go by first names. Carlos tells his students to call him Carlos, the same way his instructors told him, because that informality was never casual, it was equity.

Charles described walking into the lecture event with his walker. He had asked his son how far they had to go and switched out his cane back at the car. He saw Ray. Two old friends, both on walkers at the time, hadn't seen each other in roughly 30 years. "It was just like it was yesterday when we last saw each other," Charles said.

He didn't stay for the full program. He had a barber appointment. But he stayed long enough.

"Once you become a friend of Ray, you'll always be a friend of Ray," Charles said. "If you hadn't seen him in 100 years, when you do see him, nothing has changed."