Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago
There are many advantages to long life, at least if one's health is good. Among those advantages is the opportunity for long, enduring relationships. Being with Gerry this week and reminiscing about memories stretching over 50+ years is a huge, great gift. Gerry is blessed with a great memory both short and long term making relating with her a delight. It's been a great week in Dayton.
Then there is golf. Frode was retired for awhile and Dick was newly retired in 1990(?) when we began playing golf together. There were several who were regular 4ths for us over the years filling out our foursome. Two years ago we ended our weekly 18 holes which had often been supplemented by another 9 holes each week. While I don't miss playing golf I really miss the time we had together. Frode was a bomber pilot during WW II and he would regale us with stories of his service in Asia...not to mention his keeping us smiling with his sense of humor. He frequently mentioned that "his" planes were in the Air Force Museum in Dayton. Knowing that, I reserved a morning for the Museum...you really need a month...and a visit to see "Frode's planes" and today was the day. Sitting gazing at the A-20, I imagined Frode as a young man piloting a plane like it in Asia. For me, it was a dream realized. Perhaps if I lived here I'd visit regularly because in two hours my brain is full and I can't absorb much more.
The World War II exhibit also includes the actual plane that carried the atomic bomb to Hiroshima. Of the 2.5 hours I was at the museum I spent 2 hours in the WW II, building and felt I only scratched the surface.
My niece put me on the website from which I copied the article below. It speaks for itself.
Over Many Months
"After ten years of swimming, I stopped when Eleanor died. She was one of several dear ones who had left the Earth. There was too much to tend, and part of my heart had stopped, unsure how to continue. Everyone called it grief, but below the name, I felt that the fire in my center was beginning to smoke. I kept my appointments and did the endless tasks, but some part of me felt hollow.
Then there is golf. Frode was retired for awhile and Dick was newly retired in 1990(?) when we began playing golf together. There were several who were regular 4ths for us over the years filling out our foursome. Two years ago we ended our weekly 18 holes which had often been supplemented by another 9 holes each week. While I don't miss playing golf I really miss the time we had together. Frode was a bomber pilot during WW II and he would regale us with stories of his service in Asia...not to mention his keeping us smiling with his sense of humor. He frequently mentioned that "his" planes were in the Air Force Museum in Dayton. Knowing that, I reserved a morning for the Museum...you really need a month...and a visit to see "Frode's planes" and today was the day. Sitting gazing at the A-20, I imagined Frode as a young man piloting a plane like it in Asia. For me, it was a dream realized. Perhaps if I lived here I'd visit regularly because in two hours my brain is full and I can't absorb much more.
The World War II exhibit also includes the actual plane that carried the atomic bomb to Hiroshima. Of the 2.5 hours I was at the museum I spent 2 hours in the WW II, building and felt I only scratched the surface.
My niece put me on the website from which I copied the article below. It speaks for itself.
Over Many Months
JUNE 4, 2019 BY MARK NEPO
"After ten years of swimming, I stopped when Eleanor died. She was one of several dear ones who had left the Earth. There was too much to tend, and part of my heart had stopped, unsure how to continue. Everyone called it grief, but below the name, I felt that the fire in my center was beginning to smoke. I kept my appointments and did the endless tasks, but some part of me felt hollow.
Slowly, over many months, I began to feel the presence of those I lost in simple things: in the sudden sweep of tall grasses, as if Eleanor were whispering something I couldn’t quite hear; in the light on a pigeon in Washington Square Park while someone played a saxophone, as if my father were smiling on a bench just out of view; and in the closed eyes of our new dog Zuzu while asleep, as if our dead, beloved dog Mira were slipping inside her to tell us she was near.Then, one day in summer—after I had told their stories to everyone, after I had called to them so many times that my thread of grief joined the braid of silence that hoists the sun up every day—on one sunny day, I sadly gathered my swim gear and went to the pool. And as I slipped into the water, as I began to glide through that familiar depth, I started to cry, water meeting water. I felt myself enter my body again and realized I hadn’t wanted to swim because returning to my life, doing what I always did, would mean that these precious beings that I so love would truly be gone. Gone, as if never here. With each lap, I began to accept both their presence and disappearance, and stroke after stroke, the smoke in my heart began to clear. I kept moving through the water, which kindly parted for me, only to join behind me, as if I had never been here. And I could see that life parts for us all in this way. But now it seemed gentle and full of a quiet beauty.As I left the health club, the wind was lifting the tall grasses in the field beyond the parking lot, and I could feel it circle the earth, bowing and lifting the many trees and leaves along the way, sweeping pollen and spores from field to flower. I smiled in my sadness to feel the voices of time bow and lift me on the edge of the parking lot. And for a long moment, I could feel the presence of those who’ve come before sweep through me, lifting me into something so much more than me, only to settle me more deeply into life."
Takk for alt
Al
Al
Pictures: Frode's Douglas A-20 and Martin B-26. The plane that dropped the atomic bomb. Lisa, Gerry and Al
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