Second train of the morning.
Arrive at Grand Central Station.
Traders, Bankers, Morning Hawks gather at the exit.
Car door slides open and the throng spills out.
I pick up the pace. Heart’s pumping. I’m passing Suits. And accelerating.
I Pass Harvard.
I Pass Yale.
I Pass MIT.
I Pass Lori’s Princeton.
I Pass Stanford.
I Pass Prep School boys from Choate, Exeter. Deerfield Academy.
I’m in front now, shoes tapping on the marble floors, Exit 500 feet ahead.
Boy from a 1 room, 3-grade public classroom in Ootischenia. Graduate of Northern Michigan University.
I step through the double doors to exit Grand Central onto Madison.
20° F wind gust roars down 47th street, eyes flood with water.
New York City! The Big Apple. You made it!
Cold bites, tears flow, and flow. And flow.
Cross walk sign turns.
I’m alone.
In front now.
Not done yet.
Not far enough ahead.
Not yet.
Photo: The city never sleeps, Atelier Olschinsky (via this isn’t happiness)
‘Not done yet’ … keep it up Mr Kanigan. (I can’t wait till you get another dog and retire)
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Smiling. Me too Freddie!
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You may appreciate this today, DK.
https://onbeing.org/blog/john-odonohue-for-one-who-is-exhausted-a-blessing/?fbclid=IwAR3NKttZ5at9rWtc3oK8L6ZudEj7hfzjK2kOVAjGndB0thl6vCxqsJz1iBU
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Wow Roseanne. I so loved this. Thank you. ESP loved this passage.
You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken in the race of days.
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this, “Boy from a 1 room, 3-grade public classroom in Ootischenia. Graduate of Northern Michigan University” resonates with me. Me, a farm kid from a hometown village so small it can’t be, it’s a hamlet. A place where everyone knows your name, your family, your history.
And no matter how far we venture, that wide-eyed wondering hometown kid lingers.
Sometimes, in my travels, driving to a new-to-me city or flying off to meet with a new-to-me-important dignitary, I give myself a pinch and stifle a giggle (bringing curious stares) and smile broadly as I’m “living the life I’d imagined!”
So fun!! And sometimes, in a coffee shoppe or a cafe in a ‘lil nondescript town, I’ll share the answer above with someone genuinely asking what’s behind all my delight.
Thank you for reminding me again that it’s good to be a seeker in this big crazy world!
-MJ
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Oh MJ. You so captured how I feel in though moments. Thank you.
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i’m excited for your stopping point, when you transition to your relaxing point – beautiful piece
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Thank you Beth.
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Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
Amazing photo … ‘New York City! The Big Apple. You made it!’ … have to share!!
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Thanks!
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Kickin’ butt and takin’ names…every. single. Day! That’s our DK. Go get ’em, tiger! (And thx for the shout out…I think. 😉)
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Smiling. Oh it was a shout out. No doubt. For An Ivy grad I so admire.
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{Blushing}…thanks pal…
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Just taking this in, feeling your authentic essence, Dave. Eyes watered from the cold you describe AND the inspiration. So grateful for you and your gifts so generously shared.
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Thank you. I appreciate the kind words.
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Well written, DK, but it sounds horrible to me, being in those crowds. For sure you’ve conveyed the sights and sounds in a way that evokes feelings from the reader.
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Thank you Anneli. Some of us get such a high from All This….
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I just don’t understand it….
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Oh, I get it!
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All those suits…dizzy making. Are you sure you’re not far enough ahead yet?
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Excellent question!!!
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Perhaps a few from The Dalton School, too…we are all a Work In Progress…Humble beginnings foster growth…the mingle of NYC every day life must be something to draw in, to navigate, to celebrate and for those who commute in, take a long train home have time to sit, breath in, sigh, look out the window to the sound or if on the Hudson River Line the river, after diverting from the screens…hopefully some, exit the screens, bow their head momentarily, go back to the passing window view, appreciate the “quiet” car, looking forward to opening that front door to home…cocoon time.
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Work in Progress. So live that Christie. And LOVE Quiet cars.
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Gosh…what do we do with this? Words of reminiscence…and “not done yet.” I am always amazed that someone so caught up with so much can make such startling observations. With that, the observations of life, you will likely never be done. And that’s a good thing for all the rest of us. Tears flow and flow and flow…and we keep going.
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Awww. Thanks so much Carol. Appreciate you.
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This made me think of my dad so I thank you
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Awww. That’s so great. Thanks for sharing Joanne.
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I suspect you’ll know when you are done… and then, maybe, can slow the pace down and breathe and enjoy the fruits of your labours.
Gosh, I love when you write these – you are so good.
And that photo is as dizzying as your passing through the throngs.
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Awww. Thanks Dale. Means a lot to me.
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“One night. That’s all Baylon was allowed, but it wasn’t enough. Forever would never be enough.” Donna Grant.
Just be careful to listen to the whisper around you….. It’s enough! 🌿
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Awww. Forever would never been enough. Love that. Thanks Karen.
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You’ve got nothing to prove – you’re breathing rarefied air already. That said, of course you’re not done – but these thoughts are not mutually exclusive
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Smiling. Smart that mutually exclusive insight. I’m locked in on that thought. Thank you Mimi.
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No, not yet!
You’re one of my role models! In more ways than you think. And I don’t have that many role models!
Thank you for this special Walk Cross Town 🙂
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Awwww. You are too kind. Thank you Sawsan.
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If you were anywhere in the midwest today you would’ve have to flick those tear icicles off!
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Yes. Brutal!
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“Boy from a 1 room, 3-grade public classroom” which grades did they teach and then where did you go for High School? My husbands Joyful and Enthusiast Aunt went back to college (for her teaching certificate) for one summer or one year she lived in the dorms! She was in her mid 50’s. Her one year assignment, a small one room school in Rural North Dakota…this was 15 to 20 years ago!
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We had to bus into a new town by the name of Castlegar (Stanley Humphries Secondary School) for grades 9-12.
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I never had to take a school bus ( except for field trips, berry picking and back and forth to summer camp)…My husband’s Aunt just really wanted to teach…she was a multi-millionaire at the time when she taught in a one room school…
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Dear David, I love too when you write… This is great. Feelings and thoughts and the picture you did with them, they are all great. You carry us with you… Thank you, Love, nia
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Awww. Thank you Nia.
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sounds like you’re starting to ease up a little – you weren’t on the first train of the morning 🙂
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That was that day. No longer Jim!!!!
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And your post from today certainly proved me wrong!
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😬
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LOL…and this post needed a laugh!
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Can you tell me why this makes me sad?
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Awwwwww. And yet Kiki, I can’t seem to get enough. 🙂
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You have got to be still on a steep learning curve 😉
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Yes, on some kind of curve, whether it’s sleeping on my so sure!
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Wow … the things you learn on WordPress from fellow bloggers! When reading your post and the comments, I noticed in your answer to Christie that for grades 9-12 you had to take a bus into the “new” town of Castlegar. I had no idea until I read your comment and then researched it, that Castlegar was not incorporated until 1966, and although I had read on your About page that you were from Ootischenia for some reason I assumed it was on Northern Vancouver Island. Thanks for touching up my geography for me, Dave … it’s always a good day when you can learn something new!
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Smiling. Thanks Keith. I’m still amazed how much one can learn so quickly with a few key strokes on Google.
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Love this writing Dave. Different worlds, different perspectives, at different times. Live them all. 💛
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Thank you Val. And that’s what makes this ride we are all in so unique and amazing.
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A fist in me opens. I’ve missed these.
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And I don’t look forward to missing them. 🙂
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And I love your phrase, “a fist in me opens” – so beautifully stated. I can feel that.
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Love your sharing this Walk, the Olchinsky photo’s, Roseanne’s link to O’Donohue’s poem
…appreciate the memory jog: spent ages 7 to 14 in a small rural town–walked or rode my bike the 5 miles to school, although born in NY City and have lived in or near it most of my life. Feel grateful for the varied places and perspectives–and being invited into yours.
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Me too Valerie. I too rode my bike to school in small rural town. And I am grateful today as well. Have a good weekend.
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