Sunday, September 6, 2020

Yesterday it was

 Yesterday was our 50th anniversary. We thought we were spending it with 6 close friends, but at the very beginning Mimi, Tim and Eleanor showed up--a complete surprise!!!

We'd told the kids not to come because of Covid-19 and since Josh and Cathy and their girls live in Maryland, I was sure they wouldn't come. He's a lawyer and she's a judge and to obey the law of CT, anyone traveling from Maryland (and many other states) would have to isolate for 14 days before interacting here. I knew they wouldn't break the law.

But Mimi, Tim and Eleanor are living in up-state New York (out of their apartment in New York City, working from home). No law about them coming. And so they did! What an amazing gift to see them. They spent the night with us and went home an hour or so after I did zoom church.

What a joy to have them with us on such a joyful day.

I found a poem I wrote about Bern 16 years ago. In honor of our anniversary, I share it with you.

June 4, 2004

                I watch her mow


From the deck of our house, I watch her mow.

This is a woman I knew as a girl

And loved as only a boy can love—

Selflessly, nakedly, longing always.


I watch her mow and learn not the pattern

She fulfills. It’s beyond—like her—my ken.


Her hair braided, tossed about by movement,

Is almost as long as I remember

When we first met—teenage children, yes—

Tasting love like new dew of the morning—

Her hair was like a dream I dared not have

And she the wondrous dream my life might be

(Never mind any nightmares along the way!)


So I watch her mow the grass in our yard,

Noticing the muscles of her brown arms,

The sweat clinging there, glowing in the sun—

A woman whose love I’m not worthy of—

Who loves me never-the-less. And it’s that love

That creates my worthiness: makes me real.


I go cut cucumbers and boil the corn.

I ‘ll saute the soft-shell crab, drink some wine,

Remembering how that late sun did shine

And how she shone, mowing grass and my heart.



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some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.