Yet another excerpt from Patrick’s collection of files called Scattered Notes.odt. There are still another 60 or 70 pages to add, so it will take some time to share them all with you.
One of my earliest memories is cops giving us sandwiches at a Greyhound Station. Tile floors. Ugly light. JP already knew the routine. Knew who to look for when these things happened. By these things, in this case, I mean finding ourselves abandoned at a bus station.
Jennifer held the floor, being mighty fucking cute and an attention hog to boot. I was still a little out of it at that age, but was pleased to find that whatever else the future held, at least it held a sandwich.
Though I was still confused about everything else.. Why were we back HERE again? Where did everybody go? Who were THESE people? What happened to the LAST people? What happened to the ones that nobody wanted?
And it was thus that I began to understand the animals. And all the cats know they got lucky, when they ended up with me.
Patrick Meadows 1934 – 2017.