All is well.

“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” — W.B. Yeats


That old saying about "when the student is ready, the teacher arrives" was never more true than when I saw this quote in a message I received from American Public Radio. 


 It feels good to be back home in familiar surroundings; the trip back was uneventful (Driving south on I-75 at 10:30 p. m on a Friday night makes even the most trying construction lane shifts a snap.)  I arrived home before midnight and was able to get a good night's sleep.  This morning I'm enjoying the view outside my living room window.  I no longer drink beverages with caffeine in them, and am leaning to enjoy mint tea--it's hot and has a flavor to it that is not totally repugnant.  It's going to be a hot, sticky day; it even looks hot outside my window this morning.  Robins are strolling through the grass rather than flying.


Back to the quote.  I've always enjoyed driving, and driving alone has never been a problem for me--I find it relaxing and it gives me time to think.  Way back when Gwen and I moved to Portland, Oregon, for a year I drove our 1963 Ford Galaxy loaded with all our belongings by myself.  Our daughter, Jeanne, had been born two week earlier, and Gwen stayed with her mom and dad for two weeks before flying out to join me.  My trip to the U. P. was sort of like that trip except that the joyous reunion with Gwen will have to wait for a while. I've jotted down many notes about remembrances along the way, and will write about them later.  One of the most powerful experiences I had was visiting the motel where Gwen and I spent our wedding night.  The pictures and poem say it all:

DRIVING THROUGH TEARS

The tears I drive through.

arise at each bend in the road,

each link to a beautiful past,

times we shared, things we did,

all gone now

like the crumbling motel

that shared our pleasures of the moment

and dreams of the future.

John A. Bayerl, July 16, 2011

Don't you just love that it says Color TV on the motel sign?  The motel may have crumbled. Dear, but the pleasures and dreams go on and on.  When I attend the funeral this afternoon it will bring back sad memories; a sign that you are with me.