One Year Ago

One year ago today, at this race track, in this tower, with these cars on course, I lost my father.

Now, snug in his undershirt, carrying his satchel, with his ring on my finger and his love in my heart, while stewarding the Red run group, I think about all that has transpired since that first flurry of phone calls.

This morning during our flag team meeting, I thanked my racing friends for their support, beginning a year ago and continuing through today.

Here I thank the rest of you.

There’s no denying that this has been an emotional, difficult year, and the practical and family complications have only added to the strain.

However, because of all of you I’m able to enjoy the view from high above the track, overlooking the kind of mountains he loved, beneath a brilliant sun that so nourished Stephanie’s gardens, with my eyes dry and my focus mostly centered on the cars circulating at speed.

Because of those family members that understood Patrick and his final wishes, his amazing collection of friends, and my own support group, I’m functioning as a regular human being, not a quivering heap of grief, though I still grieve deeply.

I am sorry Patrick is gone, but I am thankful he was here. What more can one hope for a life well lived?

Patrick’s Ring

Patrick’s Ring, a Gift to Him from Gretchen

Years ago Gretchen gave Patrick a small ring, red and silver, which he wore often. When he passed away she asked me to send it back to her, which I did.

A week or two ago I was surprised to see it in my mailbox. She sent it to me, hoping that I’d wear it.

This I am doing, even here at the race track where a year ago (minus two days) I received the news of his end. Like the other little things of his that I keep close, it provides comfort–a wee bit of comfort–for the sadness.

standing silently together each day at sunset

(e-mail from Fred on 12 Aug 2001, part of a large collection Patrick sent to me in Aug 2015)

Subject: greetings

Dear Stephanie & Pat,

Full of music, good food (no small admission from one who lives in Firenze), dance, incredible landscapes, some new friends, & best of all, affection. I have printed them out as shared them — the best of his eccentric prose. & I received yr gorgeous card. I now have an impression of yr inviting & interesting (horrible word — should be dropped from critical vocabulary) house. I learn that both of you became stone masons over the yrs to achieve ‘your place’.

& learn anew, Stephanie, that you are extraordinary & dear. However, he did not mention that you sang for him. Continue reading “standing silently together each day at sunset”

Homage to Patrick at 2018 Deia Int’l Music Festival

On 26 July 2018 the Deia International Music Festival will host a special concert to honor Patrick. The concert includes trios by Coleridge-Taylor, Gilchrist, Torrandell and Patrick’s friend Carl Mansker, performed by Suzanne Bradbury (another of Patrick’s dear friends), Eilidh Martin and Tom Hankey.

The concert will begin at 9:00 PM and will be held at Son Marriog.

This is the 40th anniversary of the festival founded my father and Stephanie and will be a special night to remember.

Check out the Deia International Music Festival web site for details.

Trauer um Patrick Meadows – Ein Nachruf

Am Donnerstag, 4. Mai, beginnt das Musikfestival in Deia. Dessen Gruender starb am 22. April. Ein Nachruf.

Mit einem Klavierabend des 15-jaerigen Wunderkinds Lixin Zhang in Son Marroig beginnt am Donnerstag, 4 Mai, um 20.30 Uhrdie 39. Ausgabe der Internationalen Musikfestivals in Deia.

Wie Festival Direktor Alfredo Oyaguez mitteilte, ist die Veranstaltungsreihe dieses Jahr ihrem Gruender Patrick Meadows gewidmed. Meadows schied am Samstag, 22. April, im Alter von 82 Jahren nach einer schweren Krankheit aus den Leben.

Meadows, geboren am 18. July 1934 in Oakhill, West Virginia, machte sich Anfang der 70er Jahre von der Ostkueste der USA auf den Weg nach Mallorca, liess sich erst in Galilea dann in Deia nieder.

Ab 1978 veranstaltete er mit seiner Lebensgefaehrtin Stephanie Shepard jede Woche Tafelmusik zum Sonnenuntergang in Son Marroig, dem frueheren Anwesen des Erzherzhogs, an der Freunde aus diversen Laendern teilnahmen. Diese Konzerte weiteten sich zum Internationalen Musikfestival von Deia aus.

An dem Festival nehmen Jahe fuer Jahr zalreiche Musiker von der Insel, dem Spanischen Festland und aus vielen anderen Laendern teil.

2008, drei Jahre nach dem Tod seiner Lebensgefaehrtin, gab Meadows die Leitung des Festivals an den Pianisten und Dirigenten Alfredo Oyaguez ab.

Die Pianistin Suzanne Bradbury wuerdigte den Verstorbenen als Pionier auf einer Insel, die mittlerweile reich an Festivals ist, sowie als kreativen und vielseitigen Kopf: Lehrer, Musiker, Schriftsteller, Forscher, Verleger.

Tatsaechlich grub Meadows bis dato unbekannte Werke in Archiven aus und veroeffentlichte sie, darunter ein “Grosses Konzertstueck ueber die Themen aus Mendelssohns ‘Lieder ohne Worte’: Fuer 2 Pianos” von Franz Liszt und Werke des britischen Komponisten Samuel Coleridge Taylor.

Meadows wird auf dem Friedhof von Deia beigesetzt, neben dem Grab von Stephanie Shepard.

(Typed and translated by my friend Ingrid) Here’s the original clipping.

But …

e-mail letter from Fred to Patrick and Stephanie on 31 Jan ‘1, which Patrick sent to me on 8 Sep ’15 as part of a large collection.

Date: Thu, 22 Feb 2001 19:08:46 -0500

Subject: But . . .

Merwin DID say, ‘If I wasn’t human I wouldn’t be ashamed of anything’

& Oooo how we need Iraq. You know . . . Your tax bill is losing favor, sir. BOMB IRAQ. I’ll make a strong statement to begin my administration. BOMB IRAQ. Ms L. may testify. BOMB IRAQ. Some say, sir, that women should decide the disposition of their bodies. BOMB IRAQ. Etc., you know, someone let the blacks get away, so now it’s Iraq.

But, despite being human, I say Greetings Stephanie & Pat, Continue reading “But …”

patrick (a Poem by Stephanie)

It seems appropriate to post this on Valentine’s Day, that Hallmark card celebration that can nonetheless be used to convey real love. I’ll post the back story that goes with it when I get a chance.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

– Part of a collection of pieces Patrick sent me on 11 August 2015 called You Never Know.

It Began Beneath a Piano

Darrell Jonsson from Prague sent this wonderful story and gave permission for me to share here. It encompasses almost 40 years and everything that Patrick loved: Stephanie, music, Deia, and writing. I’ve included some of Darrell’s affiliations at the end, since, as he says, “it gives some context of where I’m coming from.”

Was very sorry to hear of Patrick Meadows passing, I first met Patrick Meadows & Stephanie in 1977.

At that time they had an apartment on the main street of Deia. The door was open and some beautiful piano music was pouring into the street. A young woman was playing the piano and I asked if I could sit under the piano and listen. Unabashed by Continue reading “It Began Beneath a Piano”