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.

February 13, 2013

SUE IN THE BIG SKY

WITTNAUER FESTIVAL-STEINER 45MM-KODACHROME-ISO 25
... in the spring of 1958 we left the tropical warmth of palm beach and drove to rhode island where we visited with the groleau clan long enough that i was enrolled in the grammar school to finish up the first-grade ... i remember the ancient wooden desks, and that my teacher was so tenured she could talk about when my dad had been her student ... pre-interstate highway system, we then drove state and u.s. routes cross-country all the way to seattle, washington, where we boarded a ship to sail north to the united states territory of alaska ...

... here, sue, as was usual, is making sure my brother and i both knew it was completely useless for either of us to even think of entering the charm contest ... the shoes are store-bought, ma always made sure we had the very best, but sue's attire was completely a creation of my mother's talents with needle and thread ... over fifty years since this picture was taken, yet still that outfit is nothing but totally cool ...

PA FISHIN'

WITTNAUER FESTIVAL-STEINER 45MM-EKTACHROME-ISO 80
... of my earliest memories of pa are of him fishing ... those first recollections are of stops we would make while driving the "hurricane road," the overseas highway connecting the florida mainland to key west ... he'd pull the car off onto a maintenance road on one of the many tiny keys that were connected by the zig-zag path of the 127-miles long bridge ... from there we'd walk back along the edge of the roadway ... i was always frightened, being as back then the right of way was much narrower and the guardrails weren't high enough to prevent a stumbling six-year old from taking a long dive into the sea monster infested aquamarine waters below ... we'd find a spot above a deep channel beneath the structure, and there we would spend an hour or so, me as called for handing him bait, leader lines, hooks, etc., and he existing in a special kind of heaven to which i believe only true fishers ever ascend ... we were usually late getting home, and i always enjoyed the little game he and ma would play out, one in which she never directly asked and he never told an actual lie ...

... in the picture above pa is fishing at king salmon, alaska, probably sometime in 1959 ... funny, now, how then i'd watch him, hoping with all my being that some day i, too, would have real man arms like his ... and ... and there's the memory of asking him, "how come you never get upset when you don't catch anything" ...

... "i'll figure today was the fish's turn, and besides, it just means i'll have to go fishin' again" ...