What’s it like to revisit moments that you cherished, loved, revered and favored? I know what that’s like, and y’all do too. We’ve been hunting down beauty, infinite beauty for that long, and all the time we knew how Blessed we were. Me? Freed from the high school classroom, freed from those 2nd and 3rd jobs when the kids were in private schools and universities. Past the at times deadly streets of Brooklyn, still carrying long steel, but this time should feral dogs bother.
Released from the 1980’s when real estate in Manhattan brought me substantial material success, such later stolen by something called ‘Partners.’ Extricated so long ago from an early association with ‘Connected’ guys. Outgrown my childhood home, where at times there was . . . no food. No longer a Dean of Boys in a Queens, New York high school, and see, not once been stuck or shot, not once (Thank Y-u).
Endured those years of Frieda’s battle with Cancer, later, sadly reverting to “caregiver” when she could no longer cook, bake, clean, sew, shop . . . .
Trained as an artillery (cannon) officer, just as Viet Nam was just beginning to heat up. My battalion of NYC cops (“bulls” was more like it) and NYC Sanitation workers were told repeatedly that we’d be getting orders to ship out, but those orders never came. Did G-d have a hand in that too?
Robotically approaching this puddle on Nichol Road Trail in Raccoon Creek State Park (Jenny Jean Photography capably took this image), I hadn’t forgotten have much I loved it all. I so appreciated the chance to find Harvester Butterflies or Mourning Cloaks or Eastern Commas or Northern Pearly-Eyes peacefully imbibing mineral-laced moisture from that little puddle. The possibility that I’d find ’em and photograph ’em, and score a Good Image, so excited me.
From Artillery Officer to High School Dean to Errand Runner for ‘Them’ to Husband of an ‘IGC’ Beauty . . . to sitting at several Ivy League graduation ceremonies to shooting Uber rare butterflies on the peak of Mt. Hermon in the HolyLand. Wow!