my one thousand, one hundred eleventh post.eleven - this odd number seems to raise its long, skinny arms often in my life, looking much like the spindly, soaked trees i discovered yesterday.
31 January 2010
30 January 2010
29 January 2010
28 January 2010
27 January 2010
26 January 2010
25 January 2010
24 January 2010
23 January 2010
22 January 2010
21 January 2010
20 January 2010
19 January 2010
18 January 2010
Dr. King was known for his "I've Got a Dream" speech, but this is an excerpt from a eulogy I found especially moving:"This afternoon we gather in the quiet of this sanctuary to pay our last tribute of respect to these beautiful children of God. They entered the stage of history just a few years ago, and in the brief years that they were privileged to act on this mortal stage, they played their parts exceedingly well. Now the curtain falls; they move through the exit; the drama of their earthly life comes to a close. They are now committed back to that eternity from which they came...
...And so this afternoon in a real sense they have something to say to each of us in their death. They have something to say to every minister of the gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of stained-glass windows."
Eulogy for the Martyred Children
September 18, 1963. Birmingham, Alabama
17 January 2010
16 January 2010
15 January 2010
14 January 2010
13 January 2010
12 January 2010
11 January 2010
10 January 2010
Eight short Januaries ago, protected by real wool and wool-like synthetics, I shoved my hands into pockets, and walked backwards towards the sea. I was hoping to shield my body from the soul-numbing winds of the Channel as I made my way to the castle on the mount. Destination of the day, and more importantly, shelter from the gusts, a medieval abbey-fortress rising magically from a naturally moated island.It was a dream come true. I never expected to return to France, let alone Mont Saint Michel, and those first days spent traveling back to childhood haunts, seemed "pinch me 'wake" surreal. Jet lag has a way of muddling the mind, but so does an abruptly filed memory. That memory never stays put, and piggybacks onto songs and sorrows that fool it into thinking that today is yesterday, and tomorrow is many yesterdays passed.
This is Mont Saint Michel, and you may read about its history, here. My history, well, it's tucked away until it snows again in Florida.
09 January 2010
08 January 2010
07 January 2010
06 January 2010
05 January 2010
04 January 2010
03 January 2010
02 January 2010
01 January 2010
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