Category: seniors
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Sitting In Another Cemetery
[Me gazing at the soccer game. Photo credit: Mariam Voutsis] You, my readers, may think I’m a bit morose and morbid. My last post was about Evergreen Cemetery, in my home town of Owego, NY. But, if you think that I am very dark, you’re wrong. Yes, I have a strong nostalgic mind. But today…
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A Cemetery With a View
[The grave of Sa Sa Na Loft. Evergreen Cemetery, Owego, NY. Photo credit is my own.] I’m back in my home town of Owego, NY for a reason. I have no one to visit. Nothing to purchase (I did buy two books at River Row Book Store), but I was there on an early September…
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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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I Too Can Do Physical Labor
[Me on the steps…working hard.] As a blogger I get tons of mail. It’s mostly fan letters, notes of congratulations, invitations to weddings, birthday parties, fundraisers, dedications at mall openings and the occasional bris. But I also get questions. “Gee, Pat (I’m an informal kind of guy), what do you do when you’re not working…
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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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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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Words From A Footpath: The Excursionist X
[Older footpath signs] It must be my age. It could be my imagination. It certainly is something I don’t fully understand. But, the truth is I think that the English Public Footpaths sometimes call my name. There is a legend among the Northwest Indigenous People that when you hear an owl call your name…you will…
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Barcelona To Bristol: The Excursionist IX
[On the approach to Bristol Airport] The rain wasn’t falling anywhere near us on the morning we boarded the EasyJet plane in Barcelona. I was stuck with a window seat (ok, I had a chance to move to the aisle but I chose to have a view). We soared out over the Mediterranean before making…
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