Category: Memories
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To Say Happy Words…and Sad
[Teri Bramlett} I’m preparing to travel back to my hometown, Owego, NY. I’m going to attend a memorial service for a long-time friend. It will be held at the Hickories Park. I hope it doesn’t rain. I hope my words are funny, complimentary, joyful …and sad. Because that is what you feel when when a…
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A Tale of Three Rings
[Antique wedding ring. Price? About $5600. European Cut. Source: Google search.] Eileen, a colleague of Mariam, wanted to meet us for a drink. We were in New York City for the usual doctors appointments, meetings and our yearly Yankee game. The three of us sat at the bar of Brendens Irish Pub on W. 35th…
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The No-Name Motel
[The motel with no name] Most of the time I can erect a fence to contain the images and imaginations from escaping my brain. Sometimes a little white picket fence with pink daisies in purple pots are enough to hold back the most innocent and decent imagery that my mind can create. Then, there are…
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A Sad Good-bye
[“Old Paint”. Now a part of history…ready for its final ride] The white Casier truck backed down our driveway. It was 10:30 on a muggy morning. Before ten minutes had passed, we had brand new chairs in our living room. The old L. L. Bean pair of overstuffed sofa-like seats were showing signs of aging.…
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Staring Down at 72
[A post card image from Inkognito.] As I write this post the weather here at Rainbow Lake is unsettled. Windy with thunder in the distance. I fell asleep in the screened-in porch last night listening to heavy rains falling. I’m staring at a calendar (The kitchen wall calendar…this year: Japanese prints). I see that I…
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My Friend Tim
[Left to right: Jo, Anna, Tim at the White Lion Inn on our last night in Dorset] It was August of 1984. I was about to begin a year in Dorset, England, when I first met Tim Ovenden. He was destined to be my house-mate in Wimborne Minster (actually a burb of Wimborne, Colehill). He…
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All Things Must Pass
I’m profoundly glad that I wasn’t home alone when it happened. Most likely the sad event occurred when we were away for three months. No-one was present. Perhaps when our friend Nora came by to water our begonia named Rosie…perhaps it happened then. I hope so. It is not a nice thought that something so…
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The Statue
This post is not about anything that happened on our most recent trip. This goes back to a time, over a year ago when we were having dinner at an outdoor restaurant In Brussels. At the end of the final course, I excused myself to go to the loo. On the way to the back…
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Journey’s End
Pick a window…any window. There’s nothing to see, only white. We entered a fog bank. Fog as thick as whole milk. We’re sailing due west, nearing Long Island. Visibility from our deck window is about ten feet. The end of our three-month journey is about to end. Nothing left, except to get through customs and…
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In The Land of Pooh, The Badger, King Arthur and Beyond: The Excursionist XIII Finale
magic (n) A mysterious quality of enchantment. England is a land of mystery, magic and myth. It is a land of legends of kings and villains of all sorts. Consider this quote: As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can recapture nothing but a dim sense of…
patrickjegan 