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Pat Conroy
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"The reason I write is to explain my life to myself," Conroy said in a 1986 interview. "I've also discovered that when I do, I'm explaining other people's lives to them."
And he did !



Pat Conroy died last night around 7:30 from his pancreatic cancer. He was 7..."
Rick Bragg tells a story that illustrates the kind of man Pat Conroy was. When Bragg's All Over but the Shoutin' was published, Conroy drove from his house in SC to the Bragg home in Alabama and delivered a bouquet of roses to Rick's mama.
To me he was bigger than life itself. I met him in Huntsville, Alabama, at the first symposium on Child sexual abuse and exploitation. He was the keynote speaker. Who better to have than the man who had written "The Great Santini"? He spoke about his life, his family, and the ordeal of the molestation of his step daughter. I had only begun my work with child abuse cases. What he said touched me deeply. I overcame my usual temerity when in the presence of a great writer, introduced myself. We talked for a bit. Something seemed to click. Or perhaps it was that classic bravura brashness he flashed so easily. "Keep up the work," he told me. I said I would and I did. That night I read "The Prince of Tides." Straight through. In some ways that book became the reason I did keep up the work. When Conroy published "My Losing Season," his memoir of playing basketball at the Citadel, I met Conroy again. It was in Oxford, Mississippi. Of course, he signed that book. But it was my copy of "The Prince of Tides," I wanted him to sign more. "I met you in Huntsville, " I said. He looked at me closely. "Yes, Huntsville. I remember." I got a bit of a lump in my throat. "I kept up the work," I told him. He only nodded. His hand wavered over the title page of the book before lowering the tip of the pen and wrote, "To Mike, For the love of children. Pat Conroy." I was with my friend, Eddie Sherlock, that day. Eddie said, "He knew you. He remembered you." Conroy's inscription had not sunk in. "Look at what he wrote. It's written to you." Yes, it was. Strange how seemingly small things said between people connect them. I saw him several times over the years after that. Each of my copies of his books is signed. Yet, only "The Prince of Tides" bears the personal Conroy touch that means so much to me. I will miss Pat Conroy. From his often troubled life he created works of writing that helped others explore their own and inspired many to become helpers to them. Conroy kept up the work. Always.


Excellent tribute. Keep up the good work.

He did several book signings at the bookstore I work at in Mt. Pleasant, SC. We always had 800-900 people show up for these events. No matter how long he stayed, or how many books he signed, he was as kind and gracious to the last person as to the first, even though he must have been exhausted. And after the people were gone and the doors were locked, he stayed to talk to the staff and sign our books, and to thank us for the work we did. What a gentleman.


Jenny, from what I read, the Beaufort festival was in honor of his birthday, but our newspaper said he got the diagnosis several months ago, and just went public with it in February, so who knows?
Pat Conroy died last night around 7:30 from his pancreatic cancer. He was 70. It was only a couple of weeks ago that he announced he was fighting it. He was a Literary God in this area (Charleston, S.C.), and there were 3 full pages devoted to his life and books just today. I'm sure there will be much more.