Pat very much enjoyed hearing from his readers and was often moved and inspired by your comments.
As you know, Pat Conroy died on March 4, 2016. This site continues to be managed by his longtime friends and literary agents. You may join in a community of his readers by sharing your comments about Pat’s books or anything else that comes to mind in this guest book. We, the family, the agents and the friends are deeply moved by the outpouring of love you, his beloved readers, wrote here… Much gratitude to you all; Thank you.
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I miss your beautiful words, love of language, and your immense talent which cultivates a writer in all of us. Rest in perfect peace.
At the lowest point in my life, my husband had died soon after a deadly diagnosis. I questioned whether I could go on living. Of course, my children and family topped the list of reasons why I must. However, profoundly selfish, the piercing truth reminded me, "If I were dead, I'd never get to read Pat Conroy again.”
I was arrested and the Secret Service took the film from my camera. The S.S. came to a Red Hornets meeting we figured out pretty fast he didn’t belong so we made up a bunch of fake stuff we were going to do. The only real thing was Nancy had a banner wrapped around her waist. None of us got into the Coliseum.
I had two real tickets to get in but I was arrested and taken away. When we went to trial George Daily was our Attorney. He did a good job presenting our case. But the government won. We were just hippies doing the right thing. Some times you can’t do the right thing.
How wonderful that you actually worked on the cookbook from Cassandra's emailed transcriptions of Pat's handwritten work. When you mentioned that you pulled up the Word file and again laughed till you cried at the pig roast story, I remembered Pat's account of taking Nathalie Dupree's class and her describing, in between laconically issuing instructions to them, how she amassed the ingredients to cook a fabulous meal for a lover which consisted of escargot and calf testicles, her screams as she came back from going for wine to find the snails all over her kitchen and her screams drawing the two gay men who were her neighbors to her rescue until they saw the gruesome organs in her sink whereupon they ran screaming, thinking she might be the serial killer of gay men that was on the loose.
I tried to read this to my husband and could not get enough breath while laughing to read it. Dupree telling such an off-the-wall tale while critiquing their culinary skills was funny enough, but Pat's colorful account of her doing it was hysteria-inducing.
I wanted to live in Rome, I wanted to careen down a mountain road in Puglia, I wanted to sit at a patio table in Paris and see John Hemingway giving an interview at the next table. I wanted to learn to gig a flounder, to roast a whole hog in a pit in Atlanta (after seeing it stored in the bathtub of a Jewish friend because there wasn't room in the refrigerator ) and fib about being up all night to "mop and sop" it, and to plan an extraordinary wedding out of Southern Living in beautiful Beaufort, where I had once stayed in one of those Bay street mansions.
Such stories of a man living his life with so much gusto!! Took my breath away. Nemaste, Pat Conroy. You will be sorely missed.
He will always be remembered by readers everywhere...
THE GREAT SANTINI IS ABSOLUTELY THE BEST MOVIE FOR ANY KID WHO HAS A FATHER IN ANY SERVICE... After watching that movie I told other military brats about it and they ALL reported back that it worked.. just saying I love you and hugging their fathers... we were all shocked that it was the simplest thing that changed them from being mean and harmful to the most gentle of fathers.
Brats... you must understand the whole issue is they feel apart and they vent it thru verbal or physical abuse or mental abuse… in 1986 when I first saw the movie I never understood my father… realization came to me while watching and I was weeping watching the movie and thinking... I have you now!!! And I did the hugging and saying I LOVE YOU… JUST DECIMATED HIM… MY FATHER NEVER AFTER THAT SAID A UNKIND THING TO ME. It was just praise!
I was 25 then and now I’m 58 and as I’m saying this I am crying... but they are tears of absolute joy! Cause my father was so mean... but like I said after the movie so beautifully says BOGEY ON YOUR SIX… I LOVE YOU DAD… I SHOT HIS ASS DOWN SO HARD HE COULD NEVER EVER BE MEAN TO ME AGAIN... he just wanted to really know that his kids loved him!
I hope what worked for me will work for you and your family!
When the" Water is Wide" came out, I had just started teaching in the inner city in CT and I so related to that story!
( I am now retired from 35 years teaching in the inner city).
I have heard many stories about it. My first husband and I attended a reunion. He was also in the class of 1967 and was in Pat's English class. He was in a different company so I don't think they were that friendly but I did have a chance to meet the famous "Boo" at that reunion after many stories about him. I was thrilled both times to visit the Citadel.
I have read every book that Pat has written and relished each one in a different way. I have seen some made into movies and I feel ( like most of his avid fans) that I know him.
I am reading Cassandra's "Tell Me A Story" and I am SO thankful to her for writing it. I know it must have been difficult.
I too married later in life and I find the story close to my own heart. I only wish her story hadn't ended so abruptly. It made me cry tears of joy as well as sadness.
The one 1967 reunion I attended with my husband, I was hoping to see Pat Conroy but that did not happen.
One of my wishes is to take a trip to Beaufort,SC
Thanks for all the great stories.
I too was born in 1945 and share the joys and troubles of our joint years growing up in the land of the free.
I am saddened that two years into my retirement we lost Pat but we will never lose his love for our beautiful language, the sheer poetry that was his best prose and his brilliant wit that gave perhaps most of us belly laughs.
Thank you from the depths of my healing soul Pat.