Perhaps
potential purple flowers
would be a better title.
26 March 2013
Gimhae, Republic of Korea
Category Archives: Travel
Purple flowers, Republic of Korea 4
Purple flowers, Republic of Korea 3
A stew of purple beauty
greets visitors to the
Traditional Korean House Gimhae.
26 March 2013
Gimhae, Republic of Korea
The kindness of friends
The last two days provided a reminder of the importance of a network of friends.
The lesson began Friday morning. I had traveled to Louisville for a week of staff meetings. Friday’s involved all the staff members of the Presbyterian Mission Agency.
Worship opened the day. A celebration of the year’s highlights followed. Then came the recognition of our colleagues for years of service.
This played out against a weather forecast that as early as Wednesday called for bad weather. Some staff members from out of town chose to change their airline tickets early Friday morning. I did not.
The weather warnings continued as the day progressed. During the first workshop, leadership made the decision. We heard the announcement that the staff day was suspended. We could leave. The building would close at 3:00.
After one last conversation and a quick lunch, I tried to change my flight. It proved a fruitless endeavor. I decided to go to the airport and see what happened there.
I arranged to stay with Sara and John Lisherness if I could not leave. Ryan Smith took me to the airport. Some ice had accumulated. A cold icy, rain fell.
I checked in my flight. The weather deteriorated. Flights were cancelled. Snow began. Around 2:30, my plane was cancelled.
I booked a flight for today and then took a cab to John and Sara’s house where I spent a pleasant evening. As the snow piled up, the driver made his way to Willow. He even made it up the hill from Eastern Parkway. “Up the hill?” he asked. “Up the hill, sir,” I replied.
This morning, at 9:30 AM, John took me to the airport for a day’s travel adventure that ended around 8:00 PM.
Tricia began the trek from Cleveland to the Shire even earlier. She had an uneventful day, arriving at the Shire about 10:00 AM.
That is when her adventure began. The key I gave her would not work the lock. After numerous tries, she went to Max Caffe where she hung out for a while. When that got old, she came and sat in the lobby.
Ryan observed her plight on Facebook. He called James Porter. Tricia and James talked and made arrangements for him to meet her with a key. About 7:30, Tricia entered the Shire. I got in shortly thereafter.
An interesting day. A day of minor inconveniences. A day to remember our privileges. A day to give thanks for friends: Sara and John, Ryan and James. It is a blessing to have a community.
Jules offered amazing support as well while I was stuck in Louisville.
Of course he may have wanted my pizza.
See you along the Trail.
Choosing words
While waiting for a cab, I made the following observation:
I’m a New Yorker,
do y’all take plastic
to pay for cabs here?
An interesting choice of words, for one who bleeds black and gold.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Travel
Once and done, probably
Thanks to Tricia for reminding me of two more parks.
It never reached the status of my bucket list. But I live in New York. It seemed something I should do. Once. Just so I could say I had done it.
Today, it happened. Eric and DeLaina went with me and I watched my first, and probably only game – that may change should the Pirates play the Yankees some day, in Yankee Stadium. It is not the House That Ruth Built. But it is the House That Those Who Followed in Ruth’s Footsteps Built.
It is a good stadium. We sat in the right-field, lower grandstand. Good seats except when the ball was hit to deep right. The Show does have lefties who pull. They hit to right fairly often.
We all wanted to see Mariano Rivera pitch since this is his last season. But it was not to be. Ivan Nova threw a three-hit complete game shutout. That wasn’t bad to see.
Great company. Baseball. A historic franchise. Good times!
As I surveyed the stadium, I found myself wondering about the places where I have seen baseball. I start with Pittsburgh stadiums. Then I move to other teams in no particular order.
Pittsburgh – Forbes Field
Pittsburgh – Three Rivers Stadium
Pittsburgh – PNC Park
Philadelphia – Connie Mack Stadium
St. Louis – Busch Memorial Stadium
Chicago – Wrigley Field
Chicago – Comisky Park
Denver – Coors Field
Houston – Astrodome
New York – Yankee Stadium
Kansas City – Royals Stadium (as it was called at the time)
Cleveland – Cleveland Municipal Stadium (but never to the new stadium until the team changes its name and iconography)
On the one hand, it makes an impressive list. On the other, I have many stadiums left to see. It may happen.
See you along the Trail.
Measuring
We may measure our days in
minutes, hours, or
other units of times.
How we fill those minutes, hours, or
other units of time
also measures our days.
We may measure our lives in
months, years, or
other units of time.
What we do during those months, years, or
other units of time
also measures our lives.
28 August 2013
Louisville, Kentucky
Filed under Louisville, Poem, Travel
Lunch in Tupelo
Hunger called in Tupelo, Mississippi today.
We found one of the locations of
D’Casa Mexican Restaurant and Grill.
Pretty good food.
Reasonable prices.
And a fun atmosphere.
See you along the Trail.
Thirty years
He winced as he stepped from the carriage,
pain shooting through his leg.
His leg.
Always his leg.
After thirty years, his leg.
A leg, he knew, that could have been lost
on that long ago, hellish April day.
He took the cane the young man offered,
nodding his thanks.
Silently he started across the lane into the woods.
“Do you know …?”
Before the young man could finish,
he cut him short with a growl:
“I remember.”
And to himself, he softly said:
“I will always remember.”
Moving with surprising quickness,
he left the young man behind and
descended toward the creek.
He stumbled once,
caught his balance with the cane,
stopped to rub his thigh,
and then continued.
At the creek he paused and
looked carefully around.
The young man came up beside him.
Their eyes met briefly;
he shook his head and started forward.
Water splashed his pants
as the rocks shifted slightly
beneath his weight.
Across, he climbed the gentle rise.
Roots tugged at his feet,
briars clawed at his clothes —
once tearing his hand.
Only when he crested the rise
did he slow his pace.
The young man came to his side and asked,
“Are you sure?”
“I remember,” he said.
And as he started to walk again, he softly said,
“I will always remember.”
On through the woods he walked,
the young man sometimes at his side,
sometimes falling behind.
When he saw the crosses,
simple, wooden crosses
that marked a slight depression in the ground,
he stopped. “This is the place?” the young man said.
“Stay here,” he ordered and he stepped
to the depression’s side.
He noticed the blood on his hand
as he reached into his jacket.
For several moments, he stared at the
thin trickles that made a spider-web pattern.
He wiped the blood on his pants,
made sure his hand was clean, and took
a silver flask from his inner pocket.
“I’m back.”
He spoke to the air
to the ground
to the ghosts of those who lay
in the common grave before him.
“Thirty years gone. But I am back.”
He breathed deeply, then spoke again.
“I remember.”
Looking down, he repeated,
“I will always remember.”
He removed the flask top and
gestured toward the depression.
“I remember. I will always remember.”
Raising the flask to his lips,he leaned back his head
and drank deeply.
Then carefully, reverently, slowly
he poured the contents on the ground before him.
“For you.
My comrades. My friends. My brothers.
Thirty years.
And still I remember.
I will always remember.”
A solitary tear escaped
from the moisture pooled in his eyes,
coming to rest in his snarled, gray beard.
He stood in silence for ten brief, eternal seconds.
Then, stopping the flask, he turned
to begin his journey back to the carriage.
He winced as the motion sent
pain shooting through his leg.
Always the leg.
After thirty years, the leg.
5 August 2013
Corinth, Mississippi
Inspired by a visit to
a Confederate Burial Trench
at Shiloh National Military Park.
Filed under National Park, Travel
Nashville night
A lone star hangs
in an indigo sky
as fireflies rise
from the ground
to ring down
the curtain
on the day.
4 August 2013
Nashville, Tennessee
Along the Graybeard Trail 