October 13, 2022 · 7:39 pm
Every year on this date, I find myself in mind and spirit and heart at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh. With my father, I sit in the right field stands watching Game 7 of the 1960 World Series.
62 years ago today, my father took me out of school on Neville Island for the day. We travelled 11 miles or so to see the game, to see history.
Heavy underdogs, the Pittsburgh Pirates beat the New York Yankees when Bill Mazeroski hit a home run in the bottom of the 9th inning.
The memories of the day remain clear. But time has blurred the source, particularly in regard to the game. Some of it, I believe I still remember on my own; some is from remembering each year; some I remember from reading, seeing photos, and watching clips on TV (see below), and some is from watching the full game for the last ten years through the magic of film transferred to DVD.
Whatever the source, the memories remain of one of the most special days of my life.
April 5, 2022 · 11:43 am
5 April 2018
January 28, 2019 · 5:54 pm
I often post a photo of a toast to my father on this day, the anniversary of his death in 1974. This year, I have been digitizing some old family photos. It seems appropriate to post a photo of my father. We were younger then.
Thanks, Dad. Miss you.
See you along the Trail.
December 11, 2018 · 6:41 pm
It’s the house where it happened; the home where they grew.
Sean was two when we moved in;
it is the only place Eric lived until he went to college.
This was taken on the day we scattered.
We still own the home atlthough none of us live there any more..
Tricia is in Louisville.
Sean and I are in diferent parts of Manhattan.
Eric and Essie are in Ann Arbor.
Filed under Advent, Cleveland Heights, Family, Photo
Tagged as #AdventWord, Ann Arbor, children, Eric K, grow, grown, home, house, Louisville, Manhattan, memories, Sean K
November 30, 2016 · 7:10 pm
They came in and sat at the table beside me in the restaurant. A big man, bigger than me and a child, probably 6 or 8 years old, his grandson. I had never seen them before. I doubt I will see them again.
Their conversation turned to cookies and specifically to cookies made during the holiday season.
The man explained how the child’s grandmother made cookies for Christmas using a cookie press. He described the process of creating the dough, adding food color, putting dough in the press, and squeezing it.
As I listened, the years fell away and the miles disappeared, and I stood once more in the kitchen of a house where I was raised. I could feel the warmth of the oven and smell the sugar and butter in the air.
I watched as my mother carefully pressed out cookie after cookie, changing the dough and changing the tip. The trays went into the oven. And the cookies came out and were placed on towels where some were decorated with sugar or rainbow sprinkles. The taste played anew on my tongue.
When I headed into the night, I said to the man, “My mother made those too. Thank you for the memory.”
And I smiled.
See you along the Trail.
August 28, 2014 · 4:54 pm
haunted, haunting specters
from days before.
Ancient pains recur;
old wounds ache, ooze;
what was, and what was not,
pierces the heart.
Old patterns emerge,
crystallize, gain strength,
seeking to shape behavior
Old habits appear,
shatter new resolutions
reasserting former ways.
All occur as we
cross the threshold
of once-lived places,
reentering the past.
28 August 2014
Cleveland Heights, OH
April 10, 2013 · 10:54 pm
Now that the Shire has sold,
anger melt as icicles in winter sun.
washes over me as summer sun.
Moments fill my heart,
people, beloved people, dance across my soul.
And I know
it was good.
It is good.
10 April 2013
September 20, 2012 · 10:09 pm
The Easter egg tree
(are they leftover or are they rushing the season)
of the First Presbyterian Church of Annapolis,provides a reminder,
of the hot air balloons of
they in turn,
Gladys and J.C.
and wondrous memories
and love that never dies
but accompanies us
See you along the Trail
September 15, 2012 · 9:48 am
My family instilled a love of travel in me. Childhood memories of road trips, camping and “the box” where we carried food to cut costs, fill me.
On the trips my brother and sister and I would often get souvenirs. Sometimes the decisions took place in an instant. Other times deep thought went into the decision. I watched my sons do the same. Few if any of my souvenirs remain, although the memories shine strong. Some of my sons’ souvenirs decorate our house, they may retain others, others disappeared long ago. In any case, I hope they have wonderful memories as well.
Whether discarded before the trip ended or preserved until the present day, choice stood as a common factor behind them. I selected each of my souvenirs as did my siblings and children in their turn.
Yesterday, I obtained a souvenir that someone chose for me. I traveled to Princeton Theological Seminary to meet with students who will do field education at the Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations. We had great conversations and a picnic lunch. Then I headed to the train and the trip back to New York.
I sat, unknowing, in a quiet car. I either missed the sign or there it did not exist. I either missed the announcement or no announcement came.
I had started a phone conversation on the platform. I continued it in my seat. All went well until the conductor made his way down the aisle. He punched my ticket, tersely said, “Quiet car,” and handed me a card.
I quickly ended my call and sat in silence back to New York. I kept my new souvenir. We’ll see how long it lasts.
See you along the Trail.
January 24, 2012 · 6:30 pm
For many years, until her death, in 2010,
Lady roamed the Ghost Ranch,
creating memories that linger,
inspiring stories that continue to be told.
By traditional understandings of personhood,
Lady should not appear in this category.
She is a horse.
I know that.
But, as anyone who visited Ghost Ranch can tell you,
during her years on the ranch,
(again and again and again) that
she had a personality;
she had a presence.
We see her still.
(And she has her own Facebook page.)
24 August 2010
- More to come (graybeardtrail.wordpress.com)
- A is for Arrival (graybeardtrail.wordpress.com)
- T is for Thistle (graybeardtrail.wordpress.com)