Phil Anders, now entering his eighties, often wondered whether his name had predestined him to the life he had led. Of course he was already in his late teens when he recognized the implications, but since then he had lived up to the meaning of the word philander. PatrickPatrick Meadows 1934 – 2017. patrick-meadows.com
This is the second half of a file of Patrick’s called FSU plus.rtf. The first half describes my mom, her pregnancy with me, and the prospects for their future together. I’ll share that another time, painful though it is. “Can you walk? Can you talk? You’re hired!” Dan tilted his head back, eyes shut against (more)
Stephanie and I made a little world and we lived in it. A long goodbye. My life is in tatters. Yours has ended. So sorry. This short poem is from a collection Patrick called Scattered Notes.odt dated from 2014 to 2016. I’ll continue to add other segments as time allows. PatrickPatrick Meadows 1934 – 2017. (more)
Thursday I am pointlessly staring at my tea, now only a stain at the bottom of the mug. So I glance at my reflection in the glass door of the dish cupboard opposite the table where I am sitting already quite a while. Reflected is the window behind me, through which I see that the (more)
The joy had gone out of her life ten years ago already. Why pretend? Her friends tried to cheer her up, but stubbornly she held onto her empty life and empty house and empty bed. In fact she came to resent the happiness of others. Only the firmest of old acquaintances persisted, inviting her twice (more)
A couple of loose pages I found that describes Patrick and Mari’s arrival in Germany. This would have probably been 1962 or ’63 I think. I found this in the folder titled Bohemians of the Tramatura although the story has nothing to do with Spain. PatrickPatrick Meadows 1934 – 2017. patrick-meadows.com
Here’s a sketch about growing up in West Virginia, found in the Bohemians of the Tramatura folder. Patrick mentions his brother Jack, who had a combination safe at the age of 11. PatrickPatrick Meadows 1934 – 2017. patrick-meadows.com
Another story, incomplete, from more loose pages, torn from a spiral notebook, found in the Bohemians of the Tramantura folder. PatrickPatrick Meadows 1934 – 2017. patrick-meadows.com
Patrick saved this letter from his sister Sue dated 30 Sep 1993. How long ago it all seems now. Most of it will be interesting only to family and genealogists but some of you may appreciate it. JPI’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.
This appears to be an early draft of Patrick’s story about Norman Yanikun, which I’m including because it may include additional details of interest to Norman’s family. JPI’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.
The Reverend Dr. Huber was well-loved by the university students who made up most of his congregation. He was, as a Presbyterian, more intellectually inclined than his counterpart in the Baptist church, more liberal than the Methodist. He was the dynamo powering the Tuesday Coffee Hour, where you might hear a professor read from Finnegan’s (more)
“If not for the beautifully written piece, Naomi and I would not have found each other. Thank you. Thank your father from beyond for us, please!” Unlike some other web sites of mine, I have no misgivings about hosting and developing patrick-meadows.com. This site gives insight into our families, shares examples of Patrick and Stephanie’s (more)
Our daddy bought a piece of land on Lee Road that had, until then, been a watermelon patch, and on weekends he proceeded to build a four-room house. The previous owner was Lee Rhodes, who lived with his wife Carlee, on our right. His son Bill lived on our left with his wife Lorena. Over (more)
Scene: A little church in the depths of upper Catalonia. Situated in a village of some six thousand souls. Following the rule of thumb, that’s approximately one per cent of any population has a passion for what is called classical music, the turnout for this afternoon concert was well attended indeed – at least four (more)
I found this a while ago and posted the letter that was attached to this story, but failed to share the story itself, an error remedied here. By the way the letter concluded with: When you’re sitting down, with coffee & cigarette, anything seems possible. 1 From his mother’s house in Salisbury, Fred called his (more)