Monthly Archives: June 2013

A tribute to Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela

Island, Prison, Quarry

On an island they would hide him
Separate him from the cause
He would not let them hide him
And his spirit it still soared
From the island his spirit soared.

In prison cell they would hold him
From his spirit choke all life
He would not let them hold him
And his spirit remained true
In prison cell he still stayed true

In the quarry they would break him
Crush his spirit like a stone
He would not let them break him
And his spirit remained strong
In the quarry he stayed strong

From the island, prison, quarry
One fine day he freely strode
And in his spirit we could see
That he was already free
Lord he always had been free.

His soaring spirit true and strong
Keeps him walking to this day
Won’t you rise and come along
And to freedom we will walk
It is to freedom that we walk

Originally written in 1990, this piece is no less sincere for its inadequacy to do justice to the man.

 

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Purple flowers, Rockefeller Center 1

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What did you see first?

Rockefeller Center
Manhattan, New York
21 June 2013

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Bruce Reyes-Chow: “But I Don’t See You as Asian”

racecoversmallMy friend Bruce Reyes-Chow has written a book on race that I look forward to reading: But I Don’t See You as Asian: Curating Conversations about Race.

Bruce describes his reason for writing as:

If you’ve ever wanted to cultivate honest conversations about race, this book is my attempt at offering ways to help make that happen.

He reflects on his hope for the book in these words:

My hope is that by sharing my story – the joys and the struggles – this book will compel folk to enter a space where they can get at some of the assumptions, misunderstandings and intentions about race so that deeper connections and relationships can be had.

You can get a sense of his perspective as well as the flavor of his writing from some of his earlier articles:

Bruce notes that:

It is also my hope that you will find the time, faith and courage to jump into these conversations with an openness that challenges the expectations of the world around race.

I plan to take that jump. I assume that Bruce’s book will challenge my expectations around race. And I hope that I will be better equipped to engage in conversations that will help me challenge expectations around race and realities around racism. I will let you know.

Here’s how you can get a copy and learn more:

PURCHASE: [paperback $14.99] [kindle $9.99] [itunes $9.99] [nook $9.99] [signed gift copy $14.99]
CONNECT: [twitter] [facebook page] [reviews on Pinterest] [reviews on amazon]
AUTHORGRAPH: [Have your electronic copy signed]

See you along the Trail.

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Purple flowers cast a shadow

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Brooklyn Botanical Garden
20 June 2013

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Purple flowers, reflected and real

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Brooklyn Botanical Garden
20 June 2013

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To capture the sun

We sought to capture the sun.

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It did not work.

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19 June 2013
Empire State Building
Manhattan, New York

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Thank you, Bob

Bob SmylieFor 27 years, Bob Smylie represented the United Presbyterian Church U.S.A. and its successor the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in the United Nations community. He served in several places in our structure; he held a variety of titles.

When the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) moved to Louisville in 1987, Bob remained behind to create the Presbyterian United Nations Office. Bob served Christ, served the church, served the people with profound intelligence, creative imagination, steadfast love, and deep integrity.

I met Bob in 1990 at a Presbyterian Peacemaking Conference in 1990. We worked on  several projects through the years. He was an incredible resource and a great colleague. 

I joined the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program staff in 2002. My first meeting with the staff was Bob’s last meeting. We talked now and then over the years.

Then, in 2010, I answered a call to serve as the director of the Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations. The name has changed. The mission has adapted to a new time. But we stand in the tradition started by Bob.

Last fall, the Presbyterian Mission Agency Board honored Bob by naming him the Director Emeritus of the Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations. A truly fitting honor.

Last night (June 18), I had the privilege of speaking for the Presbyterian Mission Agency Board as the Presbytery of the Palisades recognized the action designating Bob as Director Emeritus.

The opportunity to thank Bob and to acknowledge my debt to him was a true blessing. It is a unique moment when we can to express our gratitude to those who have gone before and paved the way for our work, our ministry.

Thank you Bob.

And Jennifer, Joel, Jessica, and all who have served the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in the UN community before me. Thank you Ryan and Ricky who serve with me now. Thank you Sara and Toni and Gary and all who have worked to keep the ministry vibrant and alive. Thank you all who have made financial gifts to support the ministry. Thank you Matt and Linda and Roger and the leaders and members of the Presbyterian Mission Agency Board who voted to name Bob as Director Emeritus. Thank you Marianne and Greg and Dave and Bruce and the members of the Presbytery of the Palisades who arranged for the presbytery’s act of recognition. 

See you along the Trail.

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Sunset at the Shire

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On 17 June,
in the year 2013,
Tricia and I
had this view
on our way
back to the Shire
from the Massawa Restaurant.

See you along the Trail.

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Purple flowers, Broadway Mall at 118th Street 2

Purple Flowers Broadway Mall 118th 2 Street 19 August 2012

One stands alone

Manhattan, New York
19 August 2012

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First came baseball

baseball_2I am not sure I would have asked the question. Too many people have experienced abuse, abandonment, failure to love, and more from their fathers. Too many fathers have died too young. Too many wounds remain unhealed.

“What is your favorite memory of your father or your father figure?” Bob Brashear, pastor of West-Park Presbyterian Church, asked near the end of his sermon today.

My first thoughts went to those who had negative experiences of their fathers. I felt my heartstrings tightened as I considered the profound pain the simple question could touch.

Images of my father, gone too long, filled my head and heart. He was not perfect. None of us are. But he was a good, good man who loved me and my brother and sister well.

Memories came at me as thick as gnats on a hot, sultry night. When it came my turn to speak, I went with my first memories:

“Baseball. Playing catch in the back yard. Going to games. Baseball. In Pittsburgh.” I remembered, although I did not share, that as I child, when I would have to go to bed before a Pirates game finished, I would wake up in the morning to find a piece of paper with the score written in my father’s handwriting.

Memories. Blessed memories. As I rejoice in mine, my heart goes out to those who know pain.

Happy Father’s Day to fathers, stepfathers, grandfathers, and all, male and female alike, who have filled the role of fathers.

See you along the Trail.

P.S.:
Dodgers 3
Pirates 6

 

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