{this moment} 113

{this moment} is a Monday ritual that my father started in May 2011, and that I have maintained since May 2014. He described it as "A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes." When he passed away in February 2014, he left a folder containing images that he hoped to share in the months and years ahead. For some, I share my perspective of the story behind the moment on Thursdays, in a companion ritual called {this memory}. For others, the story is lost in the ocean of time, but I welcome flights of imagination and speculation from readers.

{this moment} was adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. My dad suggested, "Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment." I encourage the same.

AECB

{this memory} 112

I've got some catching to do. Again. <sigh>

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

It's June 2004 and we're in the Sacred Valley in Perú. I was studying Spanish and volunteering in in a public hospital in Cusco during the summer between my first and second year of medical school. In this shot, quite possibly the most touristy photograph I've ever posed for, my fellow traveller (a Canadian pharmacy student) and I are dipping our hands in a sacred fountain in order to be blessed with life and health.

Within the next couple weeks, I managed to electrocute myself trying to figure out how to turn on the hot water (after that, I stuck with cold showers - better cold than dead, right?) and acquired pneumonia, followed by HAPE (high-altitude pulmonary edema). And all despite near-constant consumption of coca tea. So, I have no comments on the efficacy of washing one's hands in sacred waters.

(Unfortunately, I can't remember which sacred fountain this was - the Incans had quite a few. I thought Puka Pukara, but Google suggests Tambo Machay is more likely...please comment if this looks familiar.)

Wednesdays Without Words

© Amy Brown, 1993

{poetically plagiarized} 26: Carver

Another poem contributed by my friend Lauren...

What the Doctor Said
by Raymond Carver

He said it doesn't look good
he said it looks bad in fact real bad
he said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before
I quit counting them
I said I'm glad I wouldn't want to know
about any more being there than that
he said are you a religious man do you kneel down in forest groves and let yourself ask for help
when you come to a waterfall
mist blowing against your face and arms
do you stop and ask for understanding at those moments
I said not yet but I intend to start today
he said I'm real sorry he said
I wish I had some other kind of news to give you
I said Amen and he said something else
I didn't catch and not knowing what else to do
and not wanting him to have to repeat it
and me to have to fully digest it
I just looked at him
for a minute and he looked back it was then
I jumped up and shook hands with this man who'd just given me
Something no one else on earth had ever given me
I may have even thanked him habit being so strong

"What the Doctor Said" by Raymond Carver, from All of Us: Collected Poems.

© Harvill Press, 1996.

{this moment} 112

{this moment} is a Monday ritual that my father started in May 2011, and that I have maintained since May 2014. He described it as "A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes." When he passed away in February 2014, he left a folder containing images that he hoped to share in the months and years ahead. For some, I share my perspective of the story behind the moment on Thursdays, in a companion ritual called {this memory}. For others, the story is lost in the ocean of time, but I welcome flights of imagination and speculation from readers.

{this moment} was adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. My dad suggested, "Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment." I encourage the same.

AECB

L'affair du rat

I acquired my first three Sprague-Dawley albino lab rats at the tender age of 11. I promptly named them Chocolate, Vanilla and Swirls. (I kid you not.) You can read a little about my dad's lab animals here.

{this moment} 111

{this moment} is a Monday ritual that my father started in May 2011, and that I have maintained since May 2014. He described it as "A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes." When he passed away in February 2014, he left a folder containing images that he hoped to share in the months and years ahead. For some, I share my perspective of the story behind the moment on Thursdays, in a companion ritual called {this memory}. For others, the story is lost in the ocean of time, but I welcome flights of imagination and speculation from readers.

{this moment} was adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. My dad suggested, "Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment." I encourage the same.

AECB

Positives: 99 Things I Love

My friend Barbara Klein recently wrote a post titled 99 Things I Love – The Challenge and put a challenge out to her readers. Being a sucker for punishment challenges and a lover of lists, I quickly put my hand up. Aside from being a great gratitude exercise, I thought it would really make me analyze my life and make me realize what I need to be doing more of.

Here is my list of 99 things I love:

Family most of all, being a grandfather to the Mighty Finn
Beer in particular, Abbey Ale from the Ommegang Brewery in Cooperstown, New York
Cheese
Olives
House which my dad designed and built with my mom
Curiosity
Screened porches
Real Christmas trees
Freedom
Peace
Literacy
Dogs
Music a wide variety, including James Taylor and Rod MacDonald
Romantic comedy
Google
Amazon
Jefferson
Aristotle
Galileo
Train travel
Roses
Pickles
Mustard
Cheeseburgers
Ice cream
Coca-Cola
Sausage
Pizza
HDTV
Sweet tea
Lemonade
Margaritas

Sadly, my dad did not get to finish his list. Today would have been his 66th birthday; he passed away six months ago yesterday. Though I miss him terribly every day, I try to take joy in the things he loved. If I were to try to finish his list, I'd add, speaking for both us:

Italy, especially the towns of Torre and Tocco in Abruzzi
The Italian language
Pimiento cheese (that one is his and his alone - yuck)
Hard Rock Cafés
The University of Virginia
Watching movies in movie theaters
Star Trek
The Duke Humphrey Reading Room in Oxford (after he got his hands on John Locke's Bible, I barely saw him)
Red wine, especially Amarone
Spiaggia (restaurant in Chicago)
Apple products (dating back to the early 1980s...I used my first Mac around age 2)
My mom's/his wife's cooking
Playing golf (also not mine)
Amazing Grace
Crossword puzzles
Lighthouses
Bagpipes
Honesty
Traditions and rituals
Life
The mysteries of the universe

Tonight, I'll pour a glass of Ommegang (maybe my favorite, Three Philosophers; maybe his, Abbey Ale) and raise a glass to the best man I've ever known. If you have a chance, I hope you'll do the same, remembering to savor it while you can. And I'll keep working on the list.

AECB

A tree grows in West Virginia

Halfway up Seneca Rocks, West Virginia

July 2003

Light For The Navigator, VI

Wednesday Without Words

Keeper's Quarters
in front of
Bodie Island Lighthouse
First Lighted in 1872
Outer Banks, North Carolina

Originally posted three years ago, my father planned to revisit this series of lighthouses this year. Although he never did, I have chosen to repost these monthly on the day of his passing, in his memory and in celebration of his love for lighthouses.
AECB

See: Birth of Salvation

Digital scan of 35mm color slide
Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown