ANCIENT FATHERS

June 16, 2013

Vagabond Journey

No. 2,006

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Happy the man, and happy he alone,

He who can call today his own.

(John Dryden)

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Hello Beth

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There has been rain, serious rain, enough to claim itself as a typhoon if it wants to. Then there has been the long slow steady rain that isn't dangerous but just enough to leave everything damp and soaking.

There have been flashes of light in the sky, startlingly unexpected in the night. Lightening not concerned with the mundane earth but rather speeding across the upper atmosphere in a race with its neighboring bolts.

There has been thunder, deep and dark. Distant groans, rumbling long and loud, often strong enough to shake my building.

There has been wind. Trash cans thrown across the parking lot. Too cool on my face when I step outside my door. I close the windows or the papers will be strewn around the room.

There has been sunshine, bright, warm, liquid light to make one forget the rain, wind and thunder. Warm beams across the pages lighting up the shadows.

And through it all, the days and nights have been mine, mine to call a few friends and share good news, mine to read and write, mine to think and paint, mine to search, to stretch, to reach, to climb into the secret places of the day, to discover, to rediscover the endless wine of wisdom from the ancient philosophers, ancient poets and ancient scientists.

My father died in 1943. He was a World War One hero and veteran. Here I sit, in my day, a 21st century man, so far removed from my father's world, and yet so aware of the seeds planted in the long ago which made his world and my world what they are.

Today, my day, I celebrate the Ancient Fathers.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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