Here is the boat I bought for 500 dollars in Izmir. The first day out, after getting her fixed up, a storm tore up the mainsail and blew us onto a sand reef. The captain of the fishing boat who pulled usoff lost a finger in the winch. We (bandmaster Billy Bielmeir and I) spent the night in the bar of a safe harbor, while helicopters andrescue people searched after the storm cleared. The next day we tied up what was left of the mains’l and using that and the jib, we limpedback to the yacht club in Izmir. Meanwhile the newspaper AKSAM hadreported us lost at sea and supposed dead. The photo shows Mari receiving the news. Continue reading “Lost at Sea and Supposed Dead”
Huge flames flicker along the ridges to the north and west of my house. In truth they are probably 10 miles away, but they are bright enough and broad enough, and the winds fierce enough, that I ponder my evacuation plan should the need arise.
I look closely at the distant fires, then climb into the truck in search of dinner with a friend from Alabama who is visiting here on business.
When I return, I decide it’s time to prepare, just in case…. not expecting to flee, but fearing the loss of those remaining bits of Patrick that I hold.
Here’s a newsletter I just received from an Arizona realtor. Given the difficulties and heartbreak of this year, and the challenges we’ve had to face with our personal losses, I found it an interesting read.
Patrick and Stephanie worked tirelessly for years to repair and reconstruct the stone walls of their place in Deia. It was done without concrete, by Mallorquin standards. He told me that each rock must touch its neighbors in five places. I came across this picture in the same place I found several old letters.
I found these pictures in a stack of old mail from the late 1970’s to the early 1980s. I’m not sure who the clarinet player is. I don’t know what happened to the painting. Patrick thought he’d given it to Gretchen, but she doesn’t have it.
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”
2011 was a tough year for Patrick. He desperately needed to sell the house that he and Stephanie had bought and built together, endured heart surgery early in the year, then in the fall he tumbled and broke his foot while trying to build a chicken coop. Continue reading “Thanksgiving 2011”