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- NINE YEAR OLD SELF LIVES From directly overhead I watched two trains pass in the night, except that it was a bright and beautiful morning with a lovely cool breeze comfortably brushing across my face and bare arms. It was a cool morning, just right for a short sleeved hiking shirt, thin hiking pants and of course my new Merrill Moab hiking shoes. I got up early (for me) today. My windows declared it to be an exceedingly beautiful morning, and my weather App added that it was 58 degrees, perfect for walking. I felt drawn to the River Walk, not the market, but the paved path that extends two or three miles from the entrance 500 feet from my building to the east along the bank of the Missouri River. There have been endless days of storms, pouring buckets of rain into the River and sheets of rain on to land nearby which then drained into it. To put a boat in that river and climb in it would mean certain death as the speeding current and debris dragged it into the swirling water. There was little space between top of the murky river and the bottom of each bridge in view. On a high observation platform I met first Michael and then later Mark, men only a decade or so younger than I, who had come to watch the water. Michael had spent a year backpacking around the world almost forty years ago when he was 26. There is not enough room here to record that conversation since we both had many stories to tell. We both shared the joy of meeting people of all sorts in our respective travels. Mark and his wife have just moved here for the same reasons I have moved to this spot. My family and I walked this path a couple of years ago, but this time the solitude of an early walk with only the occasional jogger passing by gave me time to engage the sights and sounds more fully and, as I repeat endlessly, to become fully present with the surroundings. The nine year old in me caught the sound of a Red-winged Blackbird. I spent much of my childhood at the nearby swamp where the Blackbird’s song became a sort of Siren’s call to play. Soon I found the source, a swamp full of cattails and wild flowers and birds and frogs. It lay between the walkway, a grove of trees, and then the river. The air was filled with the sounds of the birds and the frogs. Next, the path led to a lower area with the river only inches from the top of the cement wall at the edge of the path. The foundational support of one of the bridges rose out of the water just about a foot from the edge of the path. When I looked up I saw many birds swirling around the top of that support. They were Cliff Swallows feeding hungry young whose demanding beaks were sticking out of the openings in many dozens of mud houses. As I settled into the sounds along the way, the deep and powerful bass of a train lumbering along on the tracks on the opposite side of the path provided the basso continuo for a symphony. The symphony included the sounds of cars and trucks on the bridges and highways nearby. Solo instruments included train whistles, birdsong and when near the swamp, croaking frogs who refused to be drowned out by the other performers in the symphony. When I was walking along I heard the barking of dogs from the Bar K Dog Bar, where dog owners can eat and drink while their dogs are playing in a secure area. Later there were some construction sounds as the supply of lofts and apartments here continues to grow. I looked up at the buildings of the downtown sitting on a hill not far away above the trees on that side of the path. I looked at the river side where trees, water and more trees across the river created the feeling of being in a lush, natural environment. This Symphony was live, no recording, not sound only. I couldn’t help but think metaphorically about the experience. The balance between human produced and naturally occurring environments suggested to me that with a healthy, thoughtful and balanced approach both can exist in harmony. While this was hardly a pristine natural place, protecting those places is paramount to our long term survival as a species. When Human made and naturally occurring environments seem dissonant, it is worth the effort to collaborate and compose a symphony that will endure as pleasing music to the ears of our great-grandchildren and theirs. Now to the trains: While walking back to the city on the wood bridge over the tracks, through the trees I caught sight of a train in the distance that seemed to be coming my direction. I decided to go back to a spot on the bridge right over the tracks. The nine-year-old in me sprang to life. As I was walking to a better vantage point, I saw a train approaching very slowly from the other direction. I was a bit confused by how slow it was going until I looked the other direction and saw the structure over the tracks with three red lights over three of the tracks, one the track on which the slow train was approaching. It came to a stop. I decided I would wait to see if this played out as I expected. It did. The train I had originally spotted came around from behind the trees coming from the opposite direction. It was a very long train with huge containers stacked two high. When it passed the standing train, they appeared to be only inches apart. It took a long time to pass, and the standing train remained for a long time after it had passed. The light in its track was still red. Then the light changed to green. It took a while for the train to start moving, but when it did, there was one short but very loud sound of the train whistle. Now this may be a nine-year-old’s wishful thinking, but I had been standing by myself on that foot bridge in full view of that train Engineer for a very long time. I couldn’t see the driver so I do not have clear evidence that it is so, but nine-year-old Pete is convinced that he blew the whistle for me. I waved. It was such a lovely morning!
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Categories
Category Archives: Life after Retirement
Something Has Changed
It is a Friday night. I am alone and at home. I had four other options this evening, three of them in Kansas City. I just couldn’t do it again. Tonight would have been the third day in a row … Continue reading
Posted in Life after end of Career, Life after loss of Spouse, Life after Retirement
Tagged Alone but not Lonely, Australia, Backpacking, Camino de Santiago, Conversation helps with grief, Cornwall, Cure for Feelings of Isolation, Doc Martin, Dreaming impossible dreams, Healing Adventures, Kauffman Center, Learning Spanish, Life after Retirement, Music as Therapy, Spiritual Formation, The Road to Santiago, Travel as Grief Therapy
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Differences between NZ and the US
Mum Lil asked me what I noticed about New Zealand that is different from home, other than the accent. The terrain and climate vary so much from place to place in the US that I suppose someplace could be found … Continue reading
Partying with Uni Kids in NZ
That’s University or College in NZ jargon. In NZ, College equals High School. I am sitting in a Café area at Hamilton University while Ngaire is in a class she is taking. It is less than an hour away from … Continue reading
The Road to Otorohanga
It’s not exactly The Road to Santiago, but it’s my Pilgrimage. There was spectacularly beautiful fog along the way, hills and trees looked like islands in an ocean of white. I have lots of pictures, but I need a little more … Continue reading
Started It With Dread – Ended With Peace
I dreaded putting the CD in the portable player, but I just needed to do it. I had never listened to it other than to listen to the first section for use at the Memorial Service I led for her … Continue reading
Soon To Enter Time Warp!
It dawned on me today that I will be losing completely, Sunday, February 27th, 2011. It will simply not exist. It will never exist for me. When I leave the planet, I will have lived a life without a Sunday, February … Continue reading
Posted in Life after end of Career, Life after loss of Spouse, Life after Retirement, Uncategorized
Tagged Dreaming impossible dreams, Exercising body and brain bring quality of life, Finding Purpose in Life, Grief Therapy, Living with awareness, Searching for life, Travel as Grief Therapy
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145 Pounds Tries to Tell 1150 Pounds What To Do
Rocket was not going to go through that muddy gate area. He just wasn’t. He argued and argued and turned away or refused to move until following Kira’s instructions, I finally got him to cooperate. Then there was the stream … Continue reading
A Little More Done – Lessons Continue
This just seems crazy! I now have a ticket to the Passion According To St. John by Bach, to be performed by the Sydney Orchestra and Philharmonia Choir in the Sydney Opera House on Saturday, April 23rd! Not only that, but … Continue reading
Posted in Life after end of Career, Life after loss of Spouse, Life after Retirement
Tagged Dreaming impossible dreams, Exercising body and brain bring quality of life, Finding Purpose in Life, Grief Therapy, Life after Retirement, Living with awareness, Music as Grief Therapy, Travel as Grief Therapy
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Am I Ready for a New Start?
I have not been able to listen to the CD of the funeral yet. Today, I decided that I will try to bring myself to listen to it before I leave on the big trip in eleven days. As I … Continue reading
Posted in Life after end of Career, Life after loss of Spouse, Life after Retirement
Tagged Dreaming impossible dreams, Finding Purpose in Life, Grief Therapy, Grieving at Holiday time, Living with awareness, Music as Grief Therapy, Searching for life, Surviving the Holidays, Travel as Grief Therapy
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Packing Pictures and Valentine Experiences
I tried to connect pictures of packing to this post, but so far I don’t think I have succeeded. Technology can be so frustrating! I have managed to get them into this post in an awkward position, but at least they … Continue reading
Posted in Life after end of Career, Life after loss of Spouse, Life after Retirement, Uncategorized
Tagged Conversation helps with grief, Cure for Feelings of Isolation, Exercising body and brain bring quality of life, Grief Therapy, Intellectual Curiosity Stimulates Life, Living with awareness, Managing Pain, Music as Grief Therapy, Searching for life, Travel as Grief Therapy
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The Call to Live 