Seven Ways to Sunday

Peter Earl McCollough


5/27/09 Pat

Visited my friend Robert “Pat” Patterson before I flew to Ohio in April. Pat is family to me. I met him about 4 years ago when I showed up at the Yountville Veterans Home fresh out the Marines and excited about my first photo class. Pat, 83, is a former Marine that enlisted at age 16 after the attack on Pearl Harbor. He went on to fight in the Battle of Guadalcanal.

Pat recalling a time he was attacked by a squad of Zero’s while he was loading bombs onto a plane during Guadalcanal

I’ve spent a lot of time with Pat, absorbed a lot of his stories and his past. He grew up near the train tracks in Duncan, Oklahoma and despite living a very modest life of hard work, he is one of the richest men I know. It’s difficult to describe the force of this man but his strength of character and his resilience is unmatched. I know that if there is any kind of afterlife, Pat will be there to welcome me with his bear voice, “Hot Damn!! I told you this shit was real, oh baby, let’s dance.” I could write a lot about Pat and the conversations we have had, but I’ll save it for now. I look forward to eating more oranges with you dear friend, hope you’re hanging in there.

This entry was written by Peter Earl McCollough, posted on May 27, 2009 at 2:03 pm, filed under Americans, Personal, Portrait and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink and follow any comments with the RSS feed for this post.



2/12/09 East Timor

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I’m still scanning and archiving and editing old photos. It’s turned into a larger task than I expected. These images are from an operation in East Timor back in 2002 when I was in the Marines. It’s strange looking at them, they don’t feel like pictures from 7 years ago but pictures from a past life altogether. East Timor was both exotic and barren, my brief time there made for some of my best memories while in the Corps. We traveled to several different villages, some in better shape than others. Many people we came across appeared to be incredibly peaceful despite the fact they struggled to survive. It was an experience that altered my view of both modern and Western culture. You spend your whole life taking certain things for granted, and you hear about how worse it is for some. Then the Marine Corps slaps you around a bit and you wake the fuck up, but in the end you’re still an American with a sense of security. Destitution doesn’t really sink in until you’re standing next to the people that are stuck in it. And I’m sure you can’t truly understand it until you become it.

I felt like an alien in East Timor. The security team that I was a part of was there to protect a team of doctors that was giving much needed care to the people in the villages. The team and I were geared up in case some shit went down, which was unlikely. I remember walking a patrol though the village, a lot of the structures were partially made from palm tree leaves and looked like they could just blow away. A young boy, maybe 4 or 5 turned a corner in front of us, like he probably had a thousand times before we ever showed up. But there we were, a couple of American 19 year-olds in camouflage uniforms, ammunition strapped to our bodies, throat mics around our necks, assault rifles in hand. The boy froze like Satan him-fucking-self just burst from hell spewing the souls of his dead ancestors. Poor kid just burst into tears, turned the other way and ran for his life. I remember, before laughing it off with my fellow Marines, feeling like I did something terrible without even wanting to. Later on I attempted a good deed by handing chocolate out to some of the kids. By the time I gave it to them, It had melted in the wrappers from the heat. It literally felt like I was handing them shit. I eventually scared another kid into tears without trying and made some of the elders really nervous. It felt like no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t do any good for those people. But, when I left that island I felt like I had received one of the greatest gifts of my life.

This entry was written by Peter Earl McCollough, posted on February 13, 2009 at 1:45 am, filed under Personal, Politics, Travels and tagged , , , , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink and follow any comments with the RSS feed for this post.