Patrick LaVoy Tombeau

Patrick LaVoy Tombeau

Male 1938 -

 

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The Legend of Tombeau Hall



From: Patrick Tombeau Date: Mon, Aug 1, 2011 at 9:51 AM Subject: Re: The Legend of Tombeau Hall To: James Gerardi The red obelisk is not of my choosing, but of a family near by. It is the largest obelisk in this beautiful cemetery and serves only as a guide post . Mine is polished black and more modest. I had collected my checks from 1968. I went through them and concluded that if you gave me a year's amount of checks of somebody, I could tell you all bout him. I did unhappily get rid of them in one of my sporadic frays into the vault to get rid of the unnecessary so that my heirs are not inundated with useless info. Well, I will tell you more about my musical memory. We were standing in my living room near the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor. On the wall next to us was a honey brown French Provincial console which could play 33 1/2 rpm, 45 rpm, and 78 rpm records. Shows how old that memory is. The complete title of the music playing was Le Roi David by Arthur Honneger. I believe it was an oratorio on the Biblical David. I even know the label on it without cheating, Musical Heritage Society. I have kept all of my classical records in the belief they may appreciate in value. My musical daughter Kate falls heir to these gems. Now that memory is even more amazing in the details preserved about a casual event totally forgotten by you. There is no strong emotion associated with it, so I do not know why I remember so prosaic event in such detail. By all means, send the whole "Speech from the Fireside". We old men have little to cover our bones with except thread bare memories, so a strong infusion once and awhile helps to remember the long forgotten that comes as free associations to an ancient memory resurrected. Sorry for thr delay. I had to wait for my son-in-law to come to fix some qurk in the computer. I wish I had been born 30 years earlier so I could have avoided all this touble that computers are causing the computer illiterate. With each passing day I feel more irrelevant. Who wants to be the last leaf on the tree? ----- Original Message ----- From: James Gerardi To: 'Patrick Tombeau' Sent: Tuesday, July 26, 2011 9:15 PM Subject: RE: The Legend of Tombeau Hall Très amusant! Très! And perfectly suited. It is entirely you. Salve atque vale is a wonderful inscription. In fact, the whole thing is quite lovely, and I can picture people many years from now, even a century, coming upon it and wondering, reflecting. Red granite is a standout idea. (There was always a bit of showman about you, Patrick!) I of course meant the Livonia house, not the Dearborn one. As to your current dwelling, I searched for it on Google Earth and found it in a very contemporary subdivision where Tombeau Hall could not exist. But that may be good. As every traveler knows, the best castles are ruined castles. Even without children, believe me, I’m reminded at least weekly of how much I’ve forgotten of the details of my own life. I look through a check register from 1974 (I have them going back to 1964), and wonder, Who is this person I made out a check for $20 to? The name is not even familiar! I go through old work papers and can’t remember writing this or that particular speech, even though doing so must have absorbed all my effort for a good two weeks. And old friend says, “Don’t you remember when…?” No, I don’t. Did I do that? Go there? I did? A propos, do you seriously believe I can remember that you played Arthur Honninger? Or who he is? Or what David is? Or was? Or why it would make me “angry”? None of it rings a bells. Should I just shred the unfinished Tombeau Hall epic poem, or transcribe what there is and send it on? Perhaps it’s time to let go of the past? Or not. Your call. Jim From: Patrick Tombeau [mailto:tombeau@comcast.net] Sent: Tuesday, July 26, 2011 4:07 PM To: James Gerardi Subject: Re: The Legend of Tombeau Hall Well, no, I never received your poetic declamation on Tombeau Hotel which I am sure from it's tone was meant to reference the only Tombeau Hall that ever existed which was in Livonia for 32 years. Such a title never would have been applied to my humble bungalow of a child hoodhome in Dearborn. Besides you were at teh Tombeau Hall once. I remember you getting angry because I was playing Arthur Honninger's semi modern David. I am sorry you did not send it before this because it surely would have been read annually in Tombeau Hall on Christmas Eve and called "The Speech Before the Fireplace". Ah opportunities lost which ne'er saw the light of day nor the darkness of night. All of which reminds me that I did not neglect the occasion of my death to pontificate. My final abode has been prepared for me in Oakwood Cemetery in Saline. It is marked by a polished black obelisk, slightly over six feet tall, whose epitaph reads: "Do not go gentle into that good night, but rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas" The front of the of the yet not fully inscribed obelisk reads with a crucifix at the top. Hic iacet subitus Patrick LaVoy Obiit (date) Aetatis (in years, months, days) Janet Trahchida Kolleth born September 30, 1946 Died SALVE ATQVE VALE TOMBEAU Note the obsolete use of the ancient Latin "i: for the modern "j" and the"v" for "u". Note also the ancient salutation to the dead used by Catullus at the side of his deceased brother's catafalque: "Salve atque vale". (Hail and Farewell). I was denied Latin in life, but I shall lay smothered in it for all eternity. I was there for installation and to take pictures and the marker certainly peeked the interest of the workmen who were used to more prosaic fare. In regard to Swiss cheese memory, if you had chidren, you would known that the cheese is almost all hole now. I am shocked at what I have forgotten about my interactions with my children. It is a virtual rereading of my own Life with Father. When you take a jaunt to the Irish Hills going down Michigan Avenue at the western outskirts of Saline on your left is Oakwood Cemetery. Go in the entrance off Michigan Ave. and straight back to the end of the new cemetery where you will see a tall red obelisk and a stone's throw away "at 11 o'clock" you will see the marker. Then say to yourself: "Here lies the noblest Roman of them all. Salve atque Vale". Tres amusant, n'est-ce pas? ----- Original Message ----- From: James Gerardi To: Patrick Tombeau Sent: Monday, July 25, 2011 5:00 PM Subject: The Legend of Tombeau Hall Hi, Pat… I’m going through some ancient papers (so my heirs won’t have to) and came across a poem I wrote called “The Legend of Tombeau Hall”. Undated, unfortunately. It starts off like this: ‘Twas in this wise in the Days of Kings That a castle eyrie of stone and beam By deep moats fended in guardian rings Held sway o’er the fate of the Land of Dream. Blah, blah, blah, then… Behold Tombeau Hall! Its timbers oaken, Stained yet strong in wind and rain, The might of Patrick well betoken, Who dwells therein with happy train. Hoary stones rise round in towers Which tenfold guard the gates and wall, As deep within gay courts and bowers Play stage to lives unmarred by thrall. Yet no stranger is Piety: Vespers, matins, and the Angelus toll To legislate sobriety And prayers of thanks for bread and bowl. Blah, blah, blah then… Now blazoned on the family shield Are Mars and Moon in favored trine, And a tomb invert on azure field, Of time and death o’ercome, the sign. Thus Patrick was Tombeau surnamed, The house for him yclept The Hall. Rejoicing in the land proclaimed The advent of the heir’s high call. My, how we did go on in those days! Obviously, I was inspired by Tombeau Hall in Dearborn, but I have no recollection of writing this much less giving it to you. The question is, Did I give it to you? Were you ever even aware of it? I feel certain your memory is much better than mine, which these days resembles swiss cheese. Jim

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