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07/11/2004: "Port Murray II"

"Unable to establish a connection." My computer tells me this practically every day, and there are times when I fear that it is my valedictory epigram. They had 23 years together, blended their families, served the community, friends and neighbors, and when his health failed, they went through it all together. Able to establish a connection. I saw a dozen or more of our rummage faithful there, shared hugs with the women and handshakes with the men, and talked it all over. Acting strong and feeling weak, acting brave and feeling anxious, being sympathetic and at the same time feeling jealous, of all that these grieving people had, and have, of that connection that even death cannot break. A fading, declining town, on a long-defunct canal, and he lived there all his life and gave his heart and soul to its people, because he knew how to give and he was willing. It's like going out on the high seas to get there, climbing the crest of one high, huge hill after another, and slipping down the other side. Thirty miles out, alone; thirty miles back, alone. A lot of time to think abouit connections. Unable to establish a connection. Redial.