These Memories

These memories
Unfairly risen from distant, awkward past
Shimmer on horizon
Distort the view

From murky mirror in rusty frame
Hint at what once was
Mar the recollections
With clouded silvered glass
And cobwebs draped in ornate corners

Eyes focused forward
We march toward the future
But our boot laces
Like these memories
Remain entangled in the thickets
From where we tread before

© 2019 John P. M. Dillon

I Had a Great Respect for Your Father

I received this lovely note from Lynn Habian, concert pianist, on Christmas Eve and am posting it here with her permission.

My husband and I send our sincere deepest condolences to you and your family.  I spoke to your father many times, on the island and from the States.

I’m a pianist who played at La Residencia 3 times- 2012, 2014 and 2015.  I was put in touch with your Dad thru Louise, PR at the hotel.  I didn’t meet your Dad,  although I invited him to my concert.  I did correspond with him thru email.  I sensed after the loss of his Stephanie,  he wanted to avoid the musical scene.  

I had a great respect for your father.  Because my teachers in past were older people,  I agreed with his views on how things should be handled professionally in music business.  So many things have changed.

I did read his obituary and saw the video that was done with you and family and friends.  Lovely.

If you wish to know who I am,  please go to my website:

Again,  I’m very sorry for your loss.

Most sincerely,

Lynn Habian,  USA

New Year’s Eve 2018

And so, once again we prepare to celebrate another new year, each time hoping that the incoming will be better than the outgoing. 2018 was better than its predecessor. The loss of Patrick, though still impacting most of us in ways large and small, is less raw than the year before.

The amount of effort remaining is huge, but the treasure trove of Patrick’s writings, correspondence, files, and documents will be scanned and posted as time allows.

Continue reading “New Year’s Eve 2018”

John D Dillon, RIP, 28 Years Ago Today

John as a young man handing out gifts

On 22 December 1990, my adopted father John D Dillon passed away. He was Patrick’s first father-in-law, Donna’s dad, the man I called Granddaddy when I was a wee tyke.

After my adoption when I was 12, my new parents and I sat down to discuss naming conventions. I’d been calling him Granddaddy but my mom Willie seemed too young and glamorous to have a name like Grandma and we wanted their names to be of the same pattern. Since I was already calling her Willie (short for Wilma), they became “John and Willie” from that point forward.

Meanwhile, they asked what I’d like to do with my own name. I was originally John Patrick Meador. I gave it some thought and finally suggested tacking on Dillon at the end. (Gretchen, Jennifer, and I were all born “Meador” because we popped out of Mother before Patrick discovered the error on his birth certificate.)

Now that I have a grandson, I asked the kids if I can be “Granddaddy” to baby Max. The term is doubly endearing to me: it’s an expression of love for Max, and for John as well, another one of those “circle of life” moments that will carry me through the coming days and years.

John D Dillon at the Mellon Institute about the time I was born (March 1956)