Patrick sent this story to me almost 20 years ago, in 1998. It’s a bit of a disjointed, free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness kind of thing, autobiographical and focused on his childhood and his family members, but its tone turns regretful near the end. I haven’t edited out the typos and such yet.
Mother is Gin. Father is Paul. My brother is Jack, my sister Sue, and I am Pat.
Patrick’s friend from Winter Park High School and Florida State University, Lee Liming, sent me these pictures to include on the web site. Lee also traveled with Patrick to Oregon to be a lumberjack, then on to San Francisco and so on.
I haven’t posted anything new for a few days because Patrick’s granddaughter Abby and her guardians Julie and Rui are visiting us. We’ve had a full vacation so far, including a trip all the way up to San Francisco, then out in the country to visit Gretchen, Continue reading “More Coming Soon”
As in life, death’s tasks appear unending, a long scroll seeming to loop back on itself yet eventually winding down to nothing.
As I tackle the many items on the checklist, ticking off each action, trivial or major, a glimmer of finality peeks through, like pinholes of light in a player piano’s roll. Yes, the list is long. Perhaps months or years of effort lie ahead, yet there is an end–somewhere–even should it be completed only with my own distant ending. Continue reading “As Some Things Come to a Close”
People have asked why our family has so many different last names. Even Patrick’s last name is not that of his father.
For my sisters and aunt it’s easy because of marriages. In my (JP’s) case, I was adopted by my maternal grandparents when I was 12 years old. (Somewhere in my files I still have the letter from Patrick approving the adoption.)
As for Patrick, the West Virginia clerk misspelled it on his birth certificate in 1934 but he didn’t discover it until 1961 when he applied for his first passport.