Tarmac ribbons criss-crossing the landscape, dusty back roads twisting between the cool shadows of ancient pines, and less traveled pathways connecting present to past, all I wander, seeking, seeing, with my keyboard and camera capturing scenes and stories to share with you.

Now in its seventh year, this venue has become an important part of my life, a place where I can express my thoughts and feelings about the things I see and do, hoping the process brings me a bit closer to friends and family who enjoy sharing my sometimes chaotic and often nonlinear observations and ideas. A journal, I suppose, but one with which I find pleasure in thinking others are alongside me on my journey.

Comments, thoughts, or just a friendly chat, use the response box below or email me at patrickgroleau@gmail.com.

January 12, 2014

5903 BUCKNER DRIVE

... based on the attire, i'd guess we were getting ready to go someplace special ... not church, ma wouldn't have worn that outfit ... not an outdoor place, such as the fair, since we're wearing our good shoes and ma would never allow me to go anywhere near dirt in a white shirt ... a movie, perhaps, or to visit friends ... this picture would've been taken in 1958 or 1959 ...

... now, near as i can determine, this is the same house in nunaka valley ...
... odd, how it now seems so tiny ... two bedrooms, and, of course, without basement because of the permafrost, perhaps 800-900 square feet of living space ... nevertheless, it was a most wonderful home ... 

AT THE FAIR

... living in alaska from 1958-1962, the annual matanuska fair in palmer was one of the most important dates on the calendar ... we'd drive up the glenn highway between the chugiak mountains and the tidal waters of knik arm, cross the great iron bridge, then follow the highway up along the matanuska river to the fair grounds ... to most people in the world, this agricultural exposition was merely a picture in the world book of a giant cabbage several feet across, but to us it was a most exciting social gathering ...
... suzzie started smiling days before we even left the house ... when we arrived she would run to the horse pen ... mike and ma and i never ceased to be fascinated at how she would stroll up to horses so huge she could walk beneath them, her hair never touching theirs, yet remain perfectly calm in their presence ... pa, of course, he understood her ... "she speaks horse," he would say ...

... horses weren't for me ... they always seemed to be trying to knock me off my feet with a head butt,  and, in any case, i'd seen enough of their teeth to believe they were truly carnivores in disguise ... cows were more my style ... friendly, rather docile, and, most important to my survival instincts, slow moving enough i knew even my short legs could run faster'n any of them ...

ON THE ROAD TO ALASKA

... in june of 1958, via a stop in rhode island where mike and i finished school, we drove from west palm beach, florida, to our new home in anchorage, alaska ... pa took the far northern route so that we could enjoy all sorts of famous landmarks such as this ... the highlight of his trip planning, however, was our drive through the clouds across the top of montana along the spectacular "going to the sun" road ...

... note:  it turns out the the "geographic center" of north america is the subject of a bit of controversy ... when mathematician edward douglas first determined the point on the map in 1932, he neglected to include central america in his calculations ... rugby still has the monument, cafe, and trinket shop, but if pressed most of its residents will admit to the geographic center of north america being "down the road a piece in a cornfield outside of what used to be the town of orrin" ...
... perhaps on our next cross-country wanderabout adrien and i will see if we can find it ...