Category: Memories
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To keep you from being homesick
[The found photograph. By unknown photographer, probably my father.] The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect, and as for that object, it depends upon chance whether we come upon it…
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Below the equator VIII: Across the Rio de la plata and onto Montevideo
[The Salvo Palace on Independence Square. Now an office building and apartment complex it was for a time the tallest building in Uruguay. I never saw anyone on the upper terraces; maybe not for tourists? Photo is mine] Montevideo n. (Portuguese) I Saw A Mountain. ~~Result of my Chrome search. The Journey and The Arrival~…
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Coal For Christmas
[Another year. Another Christmas. I republish this every holiday season with a tweak here and there. This story is true and I am passing it down to new readers and my two children and my grandson. Every story from our own lives or the lives of those we once loved…every story is worth telling. There…
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Ooh, Paddy: A Boy Sits In The Grass Near His Grandfather
[My grandfather, George Hotchko. Photo is from the early 1970’s. Credit: Daniel Egan.] Oh, I dunno, Paddy. Sometimes those stories keep me up at night. They make me uncomfortable. ~~Spoken to me by my grandfather, George Hotchko. When I was a little boy. 1950’s. Part 1-Meeting my grandfather… Yes, the title. Of course I’m the…
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A Dark And Sad Anniversary
[Steve’s grave. Monroe, Louisiana. Photo is mine.] The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. ~~ L. P. Hartley On Friday, November 22, I will step away from whatever social engagement I may be involved in…and I will look up to a cloud or maybe a single star. And I will remember.…
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The Journey’s End 3: Inside Wimborne Minster-The Man In The Wall & The Chained Library
[Wimborne Minster. The Church of St Cuthburga. Wimborne, Dorset. Photo is mine.] The day we find the perfect church, it becomes imperfect the moment we join it. ~~Anon Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. ~~Thomas Gray Elegy…
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Journey’s End 2: Ringo Blaze & The Screaming Toilet Fish From Hell
[The White Hart Pub. The same place I remember so well. But, not the same place I found a few nights ago. Photo is mine.] Me to my brother, Dan: They call themselves Ringo Blaze & The Screaming Toilet Fish From Hell. Eh? My brother, Dan to me: Green or purple eight inch spiked mohawk.…
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The Terminus
[A card, purchased at a small souk in the Marrakech Market. It is my name, Patrick, written in Arabic by a calligrapher. The cost was about $4.00. A small amount for a priceless piece of art. Important to me. Photo is mine.] The end of journey is not a period, but a comma. ~~ Anon…
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At The Edge Of The Dunes: Changes Within And Without
[A moment of rest and a photo op on the way to the Sahara. The river Ziz. Photo is mine.] Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes Turn and face the strange Ch-ch-changes Don’t want to be a richer man… ~~ David Bowie Said our guide and driver, Kamal… We’re coming to a tunnel. When we come out on the other…
patrickjegan 