Summer New (Hiroshima) Moon
“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” – Anatole France
Visiting grandchildren, Ruth and Gabe, and their parents, Jon and Jen, underline the truth of this France quote. To leave the days of kindergarten and pre-school, to venture off even to elementary school puts us in another world than the one left behind. Anyone who has ever become a senior in high school or college can attest to the bitter-sweet feeling of arriving only as one has to go. Sort of like becoming a senior citizen.
Jon and Jen were shaken by the news from Aurora this morning. The shooter lived three blocks from Montview Elementary where Jon teaches still and Jen used to teach. They do not know yet if friends or students or former students got shot or killed, but they know it’s not only possible, but likely.
Let this serve as a reminder to us. Often we read of these acts and shake our head. How could he? Then, have a cup of coffee, a final bite of bagel and get ready for the rest of the day. But, in each of these, someone’s friend has died. Someone’s brother or sister. Someone’s son or daughter. These are people loved and loving, this morning’s news for a brief window, but dead forever.
However, as the world is, we got our things together and headed into the Rocky Mountains to the small, quaint former mining town of Georgestown, drove up a windy road and parked in the Georgetown Loop Railroad parking lot.
I picked up the reserved tickets and we rode this short rail line across a photogenic trestle bridge, up threw sweet smelling pines, beside rushing mountain streams. Perhaps predictably the adults had a great time. Gabe spent much of the ride with his fingers in his ears. A steam whistle. Ruth huddled next to me off and on. She feared falling out of the train. It has open to the air cars which offer an immersive ride, but do not provide the safety of windows and walls.
We had pizza at Beaujo’s in Idaho Springs afterward, a Colorado sacred spot for pizza lovers and I now know why. Get there if you’re out here. I had the sicilian. Wonderful.
