Death struck
One called
One went
Together wept
Nothing more
Nothing less
Love
4 April 2013
Amtrak 185
Tag Archives: death
Tears remain
Be careful.
Keep safe.
Don’t get into trouble.
If trouble comes looking for you . . .
run!
So they told him –
those who loved him,
who heard his first cries,
who held him at his birth,
those who would protect him
those who loved him,
who heard his first cries,
who held him at his birth,
those who would protect him
from a world in which children
die too soon
die too soon
so often
that no tears remain to shed for them.
that no tears remain to shed for them.
Be careful.
Keep safe.
Don’t get into trouble.
Don’t get into trouble.
If trouble comes looking for you . . .
run!
run!
He heard their words
and learned them well.
When gunshots
When gunshots
tore the silence
of the street where he played,
he ran.
of the street where he played,
he ran.
For cover he ran;
for safety he ran;
for his very life he ran.
for safety he ran;
for his very life he ran.
Following the sidewalk;
cutting through the grass;
leaping up the steps, he ran –
his heart racing
faster than his feet.
leaping up the steps, he ran –
his heart racing
faster than his feet.
Sprinting across the porch;
throwing open the door;
stumbling through the doorstep, he ran –
entering what should have been the safety
of his own home.
stumbling through the doorstep, he ran –
entering what should have been the safety
of his own home.
Filled with fear
and their words, he ran still –
his fingers touched the bannister
as he began to mount the stairs
that led to his room,
the wall beside him exploded –
his fingers touched the bannister
as he began to mount the stairs
that led to his room,
the wall beside him exploded –
a chunk of hot lead
ripping through vinyl siding,
spraying drywall,
violating his body,
tearing life from him.
ripping through vinyl siding,
spraying drywall,
violating his body,
tearing life from him.
Be careful.
Keep safe.
Don’t get into trouble.
If trouble comes looking for you . . .
Don’t get into trouble.
If trouble comes looking for you . . .
run!
So they told him –
those who loved him,
who heard his final gasps,
who held him as his lifeblood pooled around him
those who tried, but could not protect him
from a world in which children
die too soon
so often
yet still tears remain to shed for them.
who heard his final gasps,
who held him as his lifeblood pooled around him
those who tried, but could not protect him
from a world in which children
die too soon
so often
yet still tears remain to shed for them.
15 August 2001
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
Filed under Cleveland Heights, Poem
Enough
You smiled.
Across the room,
across the miles,
across the years,
across the veil
between the worlds,
you smiled.
At me
you smiled.
You smiled.
It was, it is,
enough.
Shire on the Hudson
29 January 2013
To my father
He drank Scotch.
He worked as the assistant superintendent for the Grove City Public School system. But he was a musician. He played string bass in the pit orchestra for the high school musicals. He directed the Scots Fusilers – a town band. He was a tennis player. He was a photographer. He was a private pilot.
On January 28, 1974, he climbed into a small plane with another educator from Grove City. Their destination was Harrisburg where they would advocate for funds for the school system. They had tickets on a commercial airline, but decided that he would fly.
They did not arrive.
The plane went down near Emlenton. The crash site was not located until the next day.
When he died, I was in Europe with the Westminster College Choir. I could no more sing then than I can now. But my family appreciated the value of travel and found the funds for me to go.
I arrived at JFK on Wednesday of that week where family members met me and broke the news and broke my heart.
Tonight, 39 years later, I raise a glass to his memory … to the time, the far too short time, we shared. To all I learned. To laughter and to tears. To music made well and badly. To tennis matches. To a trip to Philmont.
I raise a glass … to my father.
Goodnight and joy be with you, dad. Goodnight and joy be with us all.
Mine is Jameson.
See you along the Trail.
Of such is life
Today:
I purchased a ticket to go to Korea;
the church there has invited me to come
and speak about engagement in the
public arena.
My heart broke for women who
endure a culture of rape and violence;
for children who cry to sleep
with nothing to eat;
for peoples whose countries are
torn by war;
for sisters and brothers I do not know
who are violated in ways I
cannot imagine.
I raised a glass in memory of my father
who died 39 years ago
this day.
I spent significant time doing laundry and
washing dishes.
Exciting.
Joyful.
Heartbreaking.
Painful.
Grief-filled.
Mundane.
Of such is life.
See you along the Trail.
From Time to Time
Maggie Smith did it again. She almost always turns in a great performance. Today’s film, chosen because of her presence, proved no exception.
From Time to Time is not a great movie. The story is more than a tad sentimental. Many characters remain undeveloped. Some seem out-of-place. Dialogue is often stilted. One strand of the story has a fairly unbelievable ending as do some scenes. Another strand ends in a predictable manner.
But the movie deals with great themes – class, slavery, life, death, and character. Most of all it deals with relationships and love. In the end, it gets no greater than that.
One piece of dialogue stays with me. When faced with a situation that worried her, one character observes:
What will people say?
To which comes the quick response:
Nothing that will interest me.
A wonderful attitude. A difficult attitude to keep. But an attitude to which it might do well to aspire.
And of course, Dame Maggie was wonderful as the grandmother who has much to teach and maybe even more to learn.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Movie
Missing Clint, giving thanks
I clicked on the Facebook link to the birthdays of my friends. Usually I discover a surprise on the list as I have very few of those days memorized. Heck, I have to stop and think about the birthdays of my family. Often the surprise proves pleasant as it affords me the opportunity to remember someone.
Today’s surprise brought a Communion of Saints moment.
Clint McCoy’s name appeared. Executive for partnerships of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s Synod of the Northeast, Clint died suddenly on September 12, 2010 of a massive heart attack. His family has not closed his Facebook account.
A pang of grief pricked my heart. I followed the link to his page and found a number of comments by family members and friends. I remembered conversations and interactions. I smiled. And I gave thanks, grateful to have been Clint’s friend and colleague in ministry. Thanks be to God.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Friends
Drones
Unmanned they prowl
across the sky.
While leaders pose
to justify.
Bombs may be smart,
yet children die.
Let’s also Remember the 176 children Killed by US Drones by Juan Cole
Shire on the Hudson
12 January 2012
Filed under Current Events, New York, Poem
Recordando a Roberto
I first posted this three years ago. For some reason, Clemente has been on my mind today and so I repost.
Forty years ago this day, Pittsburgh Pirate Roberto Clemente climbed aboard a plane in Puerto Rico bound for Nicaragua.
A massive earthquake had struck Managua on December 23, 1972. The quake devastated the city, leaving thousands dead or homeless. Clemente organized relief efforts in Puerto Rico. When he learned that some of the aid had ended up in the pockets of the leaders and had not reached the people of Nicaragua, Clemente decided to deliver the next shipment personally. He assumed his stature would make sure that those in need received the supplies.
On December 31, 1972, Clemente stepped into a DC-7 plane along with the supplies. Not long after takeoff the plane suddenly lost altitude and crashed into the waters off Puerto Rico. Clemente’s body was never found.
The people of Puerto Rico, Latinos/as and Hispanics, the people of Western Pennsylvania and Pittsburgh, and others admired Clemente for his athletic prowess. He played with fire and passion and grace and an amazing ability.
More than that, the people admired Clemente for the way he lived his life. He challenged the prejudice and racism that affected Latino players. He demanded respect for himself and the people of Puerto Rico and other Latin American countries. He worked for people who lived in poverty and responded to the needs of his sisters and brothers. He reached out to children and provided them with opportunities to develop their own athletic talents.
I remember hearing the news the news of Roberto Clemente’s death on January 1, 1973 in Grove City, Pennsylvania. It devastated me. Clemente had been the hero of my childhood. At the time of his death, he was the hero of my youth.
And today – on the fortieth anniversary of his death – I remember and give thanks for Roberto Clemente – my hero still.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Baseball, Current Events
On the steps, in the streets, with the people
Ministry comes in a variety of forms.
Followers of Jesus do not all look alike nor do we all do identical work.
Pillars of the Church come in many different shapes.
On December 12, 2012, Cynthia Bolbach died. A former moderator of our General Assembly, Cindy was well-known and loved by many across the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).
On December 17, 2012, Teddy Mapes died. The sexton at West-Park Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, Teddy was known and well-loved by the West-Park community and by many in the neighborhood of Amsterdam and W. 86th Street.
A gentle bear of a man with a heart overflowing with compassion, Teddy came to West-Park a little over a year ago as the congregation connected with the Occupy movement. He quickly fit into the community. He took part in Bible study and worship and became a member.
Teddy cared for the physical building of the church. More importantly, he cared for the spiritual building – the community – the Body of Christ. He helped negotiate the creative chaos that the Spirit so often stirs at West-Park. Teddy became one of the public faces of the church.
I had only met Teddy a couple of times – but in those brief encounters, I could tell the significant role he played in the community. So today, I walked to West-Park to talk to my friend Bob Brashear, pastor of the church, about Teddy. Teddy’s biggest contribution, his most profound ministry, Bob noted took place “on the steps, in the streets, with the people.”
On the steps. In the streets. With the people. What a ministry, what a legacy.
Teddy’s death has ripped a hole in the West-Park Presbyterian Church community. I cannot imagine how painful the tear is – nor how challenging their ride through the ragged reality of grief will be – nor how long the rebuilding process will take.
But this I know: God who loved Teddy Mapes in this life continues to love Teddy Mapes and has welcomed him home. I give thanks for Teddy’s life and love and witness and faith.
And this I know: it will take time, it will be challenging, there will be tears, there will be fits and starts – but somehow, some way, some day, “every little thing gonna be all right” for the people of West-Park Presbyterian Church. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Friends, New York, Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
Along the Graybeard Trail 