‘The best things in life are the people we love, the places we have been and the memories we have made along the way.’ – An Irish Saying
–Leprechaun Crossing-
Whatever experience you’re looking for in Ireland, you’ll never get enough and a great way to see all of Ireland is a road trip.
From Neolithic Newgrange to experiencing the sights of Dublin, from walking the coastal beach towns and villages or from the views driving along the Wild Atlantic Way, the beauty of Ireland will amaze you. From winding through the countryside on leaving the Cliffs of Moher, to roaming the streets of medieval Galway, savoring the flavors of the freshest seafood at every stop, you’ll know you planned your own perfect road trip in Ireland. Go ahead and plan it.
“Even The Dead Tell Stories.”- Marcus Sedgwick- ‘Revolver‘
I know I’ve never talked much about my childhood and I don’t ever talk about my little brother. But after I tell you this story you’ll understand why I never talk about him and you’ll understand why I never talk about the railroad tracks.
It was a longtime ago, I was 9 he was almost 5, it was October.
The railroad tracks were always off limits, yet that was probably one of the most alluring parts of it. The rails ran on a high bank above our backyard. Trains came and went from town, we were never really sure where all you could go if you hopped aboard, but we could imagine.
There were always tales of horror, the ghost that walked the tracks at night- you would only see the light from his lantern shining. The lantern illuminating the track would swing back and forth leaving a trailing arc of light, but never a visible figure walked with the light.
In the fall, around the campfire, someone would always tell the story of the woman who lost her life when she was pushed from the train and she too would roam the tracks after dark and you could hear her crying and sobbing; her haunting cry echoing down the track.
Those tales around the campfire were what drove my little brother to explore the tracks. I saw him as he slowly crept out of the yard and up the bank. I probably should have followed him sooner but I didn’t want him to know I was watching. Not following him closely, that was my first mistake.
I did follow him, and I watched him creep along the tracks – walking on the rails as if they were a tightrope. Pretending to be a skilled tightrope walker with his arms spread out, side to side, balancing. Then he heard the train whistle and he slipped. The train sounded its warning as it approached town, two long bleeds. It was still a few miles away but getting closer and then I heard him call my name, he saw me. I saw him lying there along the tracks- he screamed – “I’m stuck!” I ran towards him and I could see his foot trapped under the rail, in his tiny shoe.
The train is rumbling down the track. The horn blares twice more growing louder as I quickly try to untie the laces of his shoe. My hands tremble, I feel the vibration of the track. My hands will not cooperate. The horn of the train continues, so I know they see us on the track. I hear the wheels on the train hiss, screech, hiss, screech. The train is trying to stop. My second mistake, I’m unable to loosen his foot from his shoe, I wrap my arms around him and pull and pull. I hear the ripping sound, I lose my balance as the train rushes by. I fall backwards landing on my back, the weight of my brother’s body, or the weight of most of my brother’s body rests on top of me.
Dead weight, but he is screaming. I’m on my back clinging to him. I see the chunks of red being thrown by the train and I hear the thumps bouncing off the tracks, to the train, to the tracks. My heart thumps louder than the pieces beating against the train. I hear the sounds of flesh and bone whacking the train and bouncing off the rails again and again. My ears ring from my brothers screams. I finally manage to stand up holding him in my arms. The train comes to its screeching halt just beyond the point where my brother lost his footing.
I see shredded and scattered on the tracks the red chunks of my brothers foot mashed and spongy with traces of his favorite shoes. He cries because he has lost a shoe, still too numb to know he has lost a foot. I didn’t know then but my third mistake would be when I handed his bloody, limp body to the man from the train. I watched as he carried my brother aboard the caboose. I see their shadowy figures in the door as the train pulls away. I chase the train. Defeated I jump from the rail bridge into the icy river. I never set eyes on him again. Still to this day, on an October evening I return to the river. It is no longer icy. Then I hear the night train… I hear wailing as it spills from the caboose. It is my brother screaming. His pain floats with me down the river, and he always calls my name.
“The parks be the lungs of London.” – Charles Dickens
Late fall is a great time to visit London and it’s 8 Royal Parks are perfect for strolling. If you’re out for a hike or you’re searching for a peaceful ramble after a day of shopping and sightseeing, these 3 parks offer the tranquil space you crave.
From Trafalgar Square, down Whitehall to the Horse Guard enter St James Park.
St James Park with it’s beautiful flower gardens, weeping willows, fountain and fowl. Ducks, geese, swans and pelicans roam the grounds. Swans may approach you looking for a snack and if you’re timing is right you will witness the Horse Guard Parade. The Life Guard change takes place here at 11:00am daily and 10:00am on Sundays.
From St James Park, cross the Mall in front of Buckingham Palace to enter The Green Park.
In Green Park you’ll treasure the beautiful walks wandering the paths. Find a bench and linger to relish the green space of grasslands and magnificent trees. Bring a picnic to savor a meal on the lawn. Don’t be surprised if you see two friends sharing a bench and a nip from a brown bag.
When your meal is complete roam the pathways to emerge at Hyde Park.
In Hyde Park enjoy watching locals feeding breadcrumbs to the pigeons and squirrels.
Hire a bike and bicycle Hyde Park or stroll the paths. Appreciate the lake view, hire a boat and row or pedal the lake at Serpentine Lake. Visit the many memorials and don’t forget to find the statue of Peter Pan. On a Sunday Morning meander to the north east corner and have a listen to the orators at Speaker’s Corner.
After spending time in these parks you’ll want to discover more of their history, and with a nod to Dickens you’ll agree “The parks be the lungs of London”.
For more on the history of the parks visit their official site
“Rivers are roads that move & carry us whither we wish to go.” Blaise Pascal
It was Weisspargel season in Deutschland, when we left Cologne yesterday. Arriving in Cambridge it is merely early spring. My friend and I seize the opportunity for a glide on the River Cam. We are here on business but this is pure pleasure. Our punter, a student at Cambridge brings us rolling past The Backs. He follows the path of the gravel ridge for a smooth ride. The flat bottomed boat glides over the river. The swans on the river are majestic, the English Gardens are filled with color and King’s College Chapel is immediately recognizable.
The banks are lush with gorgeous blooms. My friend asks me “what are those flowers?” I tell her “Clematis; I’m not sure how to pronounce it, my mother always said ‘kle-mat-is’ but recently she said she’d heard ‘kle-mAy-tus’.” Here our punter offers, “ahhh, the actual pronunciation is Klem-a-tus.” So, as we pass under the Bridge of Sighs, I agree with the dashing punter of Cambridge. ‘Klem-a-tus’.
My Little Brother on the Biden Campaign Trail, Wilmington, DE- 1972
“Joe Biden, He understands what’s happening today.”
My little brother called. He rarely calls. Excitedly he says “This isn’t about politics, I don’t even know your politics and don’t need to know; but do you remember when we lived in Wilmington and Joe Biden was running for his first senate seat?”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to remind you that I worked for his first campaign that year, an unpaid volunteer!”
“You were 12 or 13!”
“Yes, remember my friends Bill and Bob? Their Dad was a Biden supporter and he came home and handed us all the campaign leaflets and told us, ‘Now, go and hand these out at every door’!”
“Oh that’s a great memory, Biden was running that campaign on a shoe string and his youth!”
Now he’s counting on those same voters who elected one of the youngest senators ever to become the oldest elected president of the USA.
‘Joe Biden, He understands what’s happening today.’ That was his campaign tag line in 1972.
It’s late September and the weather has already cooled . It will get warmer before winter is here but today presents a chilly warning.
The hummingbirds are still here, a dozen of them. They know I’m their human and they’re quick to let me know when the feeders are empty. They’re on a feeding frenzy right now – chattering loudly and their wings are pounding like drum beats. They’re keeping me busy filling the feeders. The mornings are when I talk to them.
Today: “ What time is your flight out? It’s getting cooler and you’re getting fatter. The geese are honking and headed south. When do you need to leave?” and now they tell me about Villahermosa, their winter home in Mexico, and Marisol. Marisol, their human who lives there and feeds them well during the warm winter in their own tiny corner of Mexico. They think she looks like me. Travel dreaming lives here, in this tiny corner of north Texas.
“A walk about Paris will provide lessons in history, beauty, and in the point of Life.” – Thomas Jefferson
After 23 years, I was delighted to be back in Paris. With no particular place to be on that first day, we strolled the streets and gardens. A turn down a path and we encounter the faune, La Faune Dansant. A Roman god of shepherds and herds
“Enchanté”, he greets me. “Enchantée”, I reply, and I am at once enchanted by his obvious joy and love of music and dance. Joy and love in a Paris Garden, “Oui, we will return. À bientôt.”
Sculpture Faune Dansant by Eugene Louis Lequesne (1815-1887)/ Jardin du Luxembourg, Paris
Welcome to my Alabama… come outside and play in the gulf and the sand..Heron- Gulf Shores, AL
And we return to this shore to unplug, refresh and strengthen our spirit. The gulf water, the sun, and the sand here are relaxing. It’s our place to refuel, reenergize.
Once upon a time, far, far away in a quiet garden along the banks of the Arkansas River she waits. The dancer poised in her graceful and delicate performance. She stands perfectly balanced, arms lifted, one foot on the hoop and one foot high in the air. Her bronzed figure, frozen in motion, in her timeless “infinite dance”. Enjoy the slower pace among the whimsical and the calming sculptures in the Volger Schwartz Sculpture Garden.
Artist Carol Gold: #116, “Infinite Dance”, 2018: Volger Schwartz Sculpture Garden, Little Rock, AR.
