E-mail from Patrick on 18 June 2012.
I’m taking a charter flight to Pisa and a train to Florence tomorrow, back on 24 june, the day of Jan Juan. I will have my mobile phone.
Mostly I’m moved to make the trip because a neighbor just died and his son had a wake, then another friend due to arrive for holiday fell, and is being operated on for a blood in the brain, I’m not getting any younger and one of my oldest friends is now ailing in his 80’s. I’m afraid if I wait much longer, one of us won’t be there. Plus I really want to try for the US in the fall, so wouldn’t be able to see him then.
In the meantime, I’m Ok, not to worry. Walked to the sea today – no that was yesterday, and caught a ride back up.
After commenting on Father’s Day, he added:
it’s suddenly cooling off with a light breeze. in between the foothills and promontories below the Teig, clouds are forming out of nothing and climbing up into the blue. quite extraordinary. behind the church a thin mist appeared, consolidated, congealed, if that’s the word, into a hefty white cloud and then rose up like the holy ghost. and behind a sort of butte which most of the time looks to be attached to the cliffs of the Teig, a wispy grey cloud floated along, making 3d from 2d, delineating features seldom distinct. and the last of nightingales are piping their forlorn farewell – it is said they only sing until they mate, and these maybe didn’t score?
the torrente is now bone dry until the next big rain. it’s so quiet now that on the way to the cala you can hear the pods of the wild wheat when they pop open and toss the seeds, or a chameleon shifting under the dry leaves.
enough waxing, now for some slow waning, for twill be a six am morn and straight into the sunrise t’ward the airport. we all turn into mr magoos at 100 kph.
When I asked about the friend in Florence, he replied:
No, it’s Robert Dreicer. We taught school together on Long Island, I visited him in Athens in 63, and he visited me with Fred Young in Galilea, Mallorca in 72.
Patrick Meadows 1934 – 2017.