Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~ Departing

Stayed overnight with Nancy, my sister. We took our morning walk together. It was raining. Under umbrellas we walked in silence but each of us knew what the other one was thinking. We had breakfast, a little extended agape. Talked about Mother and Dad. The way things were. It had stopped raining when we walked out the driveway. I looked up at the trees. Then we got in the car and were off to the airport.

Butler, Pennsylvania ~ Departing

My brother Jack's house on Washington Street. I stand here looking. Jack's Ann is fighting her battle with cancer. When Jack dies the last of us will have been taken from this spot on the globe, our earthly home. Oh, dear little town of Butler where my fondest memories lie entombed . . . it is hard, ever harder to leave you, not knowing whether I'll return.

Butler, Pennsylvania

She invited us for drinks, Catherine, whose husband Bill, my teaching colleague at Point Park College and golfing friend, left her five years ago. She talked lovingly about him. Showed us the rooms she since has redecorated. Bill's too. I noticed she still had his bathrobe hanging there on a shiny brass hook.

Butler, Pennsylvania ~ St. Paul's Church

Sunday Mass at St. Paul's. Sang with the choir. Looked down at the sanctuary where I spent my boyhood serving at this altar. Through younger eyes I saw only green marble steps, candles, the Gothic arches. But then I thought I was standing in the modest church in our little village in Germany where, through older eyes, I would now be gazing down upon an altar and see surrounding it, the great wonder and the mystery.

Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania ~

Found a quaint little restaurant where delicious homemade cherry pie sells for $1.00 a slice.

Butler, Pennsylvania

A few people still know me at home, but I notice how the memory of my parents is fading as the younger generations coming on.

Butler, Pennsylvania ~

Drove by the beautiful home we lived in for so many years. What is it like inside now? Does Mother's, does Dad's spirit still linger there? Should I knock at the door and see?

Butler, Pennsylvania ~

Stood at gravesites of mother and father. There are no flowers. Just grass. They are alone. Nearby, our obelisk. There is room for me and my family. The question arises: Here? Or there?

Philadelphia Street ~

She pranced across the street that morning, a stand-out beauty, elegantly dressed in black, postured high above the others it seemed. She walked briskly, exultantly. I watched her turn the corner, disappear. First class Philadelphian, for sure.

My brother and I walked through Washington Park and then on to Walnut Street on our way to City Hall when I happened to see her again, sitting on a bench close to the street curb, her smooth, bare legs crossed, leafing, blasé, through a magazine, waiting for a pick-up.

State College, Pennsylvania

Stopped at the University of Pennsylvania on our way back home. A wonderful sprawling campus in a valley surrounded by woods. 43,000 students. All on vacation. But the football team was practicing for the upcoming Notre Dame game. We walked in to Arts Museum. There in the entrance, a Chihily, fulgent with color. I walked over to it like to an old friend.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~

My brother was celebrating his birthday so I took him to one of Philadelphia's oldest restaurants, Bookbinder's. Sedate oaken dining room, excellent food. The maitre d' treated us as honored guests. Recommended German wine. The couple at the table next to us were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. Asked what had held the marriage together for all that time: I like his shaving lotion, he likes my perfume!

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~

At the motel I refused to watch television. In America you are bombarded with commercials. They are insidious, yes, a curse.

Philadephia, Pennsylvania ~

Caught in the swirl of throbbing Philadelphia I thought about the quiet peace of my Black Forest village where, devoid of distractions, I feel myself so much closer to those things in life that really matter.

Jottings inside the Museum of Fine Arts ~

Art is busy trying to express realities in ways more understandable than the reality itself.
The poet asks: What words must I conjure up to make beauty lift her veil?

Philadephia, Pennsylvania ~ Museum of Fine Arts ~

She was seen in a church hall in her traditional Black Forest costume but instead of a prayer book she was holding a musical instrument she was about to play for the birthday celebration of the local parish priest. I remember the demure glance askance, the modest dropping of the eyes.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~

Others wouldn't stop but a friendly black girl went out of her way, asking two other couples for information, to tell me where I should catch the bus for the museum.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~

A Chinese couple stood beside me as I read the original Declaration of Independence.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~

People waited in long lines, patiently, to get into the rooms where our Founding Fathers debated and brought forth the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, the Bill of Rights. How close the figures came: Washington, Ben Franklin, the redheaded Thomas Jefferson, John Adams. One makes a pilgrimage to a cradle like this. It is a hallowed place.

Lancaster to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~

On the train we passed through the lush Amish country. Beautiful farms. Men working the fields with teams of horses. Modest stone homesteads. White barns. Nothing has changed in the last 200 years. No electricity, no cars. Devout people. I felt they were close to the earth, and by being so, close to God.

Lancaster, Pennsylvania ~

I walked out before breakfast into a bursting rising sun. Walked along the edge of a cornfield and thought the whole time about the young 24-25 year olds, young lovers, who went into battle here in the Civil War, and had to die in these fields. I thought that after having had to experience the horrible spiritual death of being wrenched apart from the girl they loved, they must have faced their bodily death in the enemy's fire, willingly.

Lancaster, Pennsylvania ~

Evening walk through the downtown area. There were no people on the streets. Looked through wrought iron gates into a courtyard with a fountain and where people were dining. There was a policewoman on duty there. We talked. She told us to be very careful, to best be off the streets. Awful things happen there at night. The week before someone had been shot to death just one block away.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Mass in a Greek Orthodox church. The priest spoke movingly about Mary in aesthetic terms, telling that it was her beauty resulted in her becoming the fitting tabernacle God chose to house Himself in.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

Sofie is Jonathan's daughter. He is divorced and might soon be marring our Alexandra. Sofie is a delightful 9 year old who likes to hear me at the piano. Whenever I played her song, Edelweiss, she would come and sit next to me on the piano bench.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

It was a heartwarming scene, the old couple in the store. They were lined up and paying for their many purchases that consisted in large part of cookies. A boy pushed their cart out to their SUV and they walked, hand in hand, and carefully stowed their cache.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

Visited the Carnegie Museum. Exhibition of glass sculptures by Dale Chihuly. Couldn’t pull myself away from his intriguing creations. He learned glassblowing techniques at the Murano school in Venice and brought it to the States. His Italian teachers learned to admire him for his spontaneity and freedom of expression.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

While shaving this morning I looked out the window and saw two full-grown deer in the back yard standing in the bushes eating the berries.

Canonsburg, Pennsylvania ~

Had to stop here to pay homage to Perry Como. Stood silently at his monument in his hometown square and thanked him for the songs he sang that have lightened my life. I listened for him to sing. . . If you were the only girl in the world . . .

Bethany, West Virginia ~

Took a short jaunt to West Virginia. Visited Bethany College. No students on campus but we ran into two women from the clean-up crew who began to tell us about their 17 years of service there. Talked with them for half an hour. They were devoted to the students and for many of them a substitute parent. Knew all the professors. I could see them becoming prouder minute by minute as they spoke. Saying goodbye, it all ended with long, hearty handshakes.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

Invited to lunch at the sedate Pittsburgh Athletic Club across from the University of Pittsburgh. In spite of the horrific heat all the men wore suits and ties. Ladies were well dressed, sheer and colorful. Some had fans. A pianist at a Steinway.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

Morning walk in Virginia Manor. Tranquility along the path. Heard robins, cardinals, bluejays— birds I miss in Germany. It seemed as if they had come out to welcome me back.

Flight: Detroit, Michigan to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ~

She sat beside me, wife of a Marine, mother of two teenagers eager to join. She was very concerned about that, but knew they would be enlisting soon. Her eyes filled. Said she was so happy that her husband had made it through Vietnam.

Over the Ocean ~

Oh, the distance! If I were not flying back to what was once home, I would feel completely lost and alone. Up over Scotland along the edge of Iceland over Newfoundland, Canada into Detroit, Michigan, to board there again for Pittsburgh. All in 9 hours. By ship it takes 8 days. Home is far away. Easier to arrive there poetically, and on a deeper level, spared of stark, unpleasant realities.

Home ~ Trip to the the U.S.A. ~

I am flying back home, to Butler, Pennsylvania, I say. But where is home? I have lived in Germany for so long. Is there really a home somewhere?

On the Autobahn ~

It is through longing, lacking, and pain that everything opens to us, I thought, as I sat in the back seat looking at the posh cars laden with vacation equipment passing us on the autobahn.

De diligendo Deo ~

I would be searching for You to love if I only knew I could reach You. But I don't even know Who You are. To love You I need to have something I can grasp onto.

Consolation? ~

There is more to be learned in bearing loss, the old monk said, than in the rapture of bliss.

Lausanne, Switzerland ~

It was pleasantly warm last Saturday evening as we sat in a restaurant at the edge of Lake Geneva eating fresh perch. The moon was hovering in the sky and reflecting on the calm lake. A glass of wine, a cigarette. There were long pauses in our conversaion, four or five whole minutes without a word, when we were just looking and trying to fathom the beauty of what we were seeing.

Positioning Oneself ~

The monk asks what. He doesn't ask why.

Visit to Dresden, Germany ~

I walked in the streets of Dresden, rebuilt now and magnificent after being bombed by our planes and British planes in 1945, marvelling at its new beauty — but still could hear the low hum of the bombers in the distance, coming in from the west.

Poem about Dresden

Heavenly Delight ~

Did you see the chimney swallows? They’re back! Their flight absolutely delightful to watch. And when they come in groups, at high speed, curving around the trees and down across our garden, chirping, I feel the show is just for me.

Pain and Suffering ~

It is easier to associate ourselves with pain and suffering than with joy — just because we are more acquainted with them.

Turning the Tables ~

Spent a wonderful weekend with old students of mine ['82 grads] in a quaint Black Forest hotel. They lavished appreciation on me for little things I did an said back then, that they said supported them. I came away with the grateful feeling of being their student now and of being carried on their strong shoulders.

Being Poor ~ Having Everything ~

Once you have found your true love nothing else matters. You want to shed everything else to concentrate on the beloved.

Finding Words for What We Know ~

These few perceptive words I heard spoken yesterday: "It is a loving sustained attention that reveals beauty."

Criminal Activity ~

Now they are thinking of setting up a special police group to enforce non-smoking in restaurants. If you are caught smoking you can be fined anywhere from 20 to 2,000 Euros.

Blacksburg, Virginia ~

Virginia Tech University

Shooting on campus. 32 dead, 21 wounded.

The locals said the winds rose to carry the angels down so they could take the children home.

Is There Any Consolation? ~

In the vinyards along the Rhein near here a 13 year old girl was abducted on her way home from school and murdered. No clues. And yesterday in Heilbronn, a city known for its ties with the Romantic literary tradition, a 22 year old policewoman was shot in the head and died. No clues. She had just finished her training for the profession she had always dreamed of, had just found boyfriend with whom she had fallen in love.

Someone is Greeting You ~

For anyone who happens upon this blog, I hope this is an uplift for the day.

From Tamara ~

Dear Charles,
Hopefully everything is ok in your part of the world. However, the growing anti-semitism in Germany and the rest of Europe does not make me very happy.

I wrote to a selection of different places with the emails you gave to me but nobody answered. In my opinion it does not fit the Europe I knew, even when the answer is in the negative, but this was apparently the world of yesterday. I am learning every day not to have expectactions and just be thankful for what I have and what comes.

I hope that you are in a creative period. New events are happening all of the time in the world and in the lives of individuals and especially for people who are creating. I want to share with you a new site of my art of 2006 with some of the poetry I have written. I am together with an American sculptor who in my opinion is doing unusual works having to do with the Holocaust and the journey of souls to another dimension.  http://etherealjourney.com/
I hope to hear from you.
Warm regards,
Tamara

Good Friday Liturgy ~

Stood in the choir loft on Good Friday and sang. The atmosphere was overwhelming. The sad tonality of the singing, the absence of organ and lighting and the half-darkness in the nave, the eery porcession with cross. It was later, after the ceremony, that I noticed what it had done to me, causing an extreme down-heartedness, mixed with a strange kind of joy. I was unable to shake it off on Easter Sunday and on into the week.