Boite Aux Lettres

I loved this slightly battered mail box in Homs, Syria, where you can just make out "Boite Aux Lettres" ; French for "Mail Box"... And it didn't look like it was made yesterday. Maybe the fact that what is today Lebanon and Syria was prior to the creation of those two countries a French mandated territory, left some French influence, more than one might guess...
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Syrian Eiffel

This Eiffel Tower replica was on a property near the city of Hama, Syria, which we stumbled on while making our way to Apamea... one of the most amazing sites on Earth. I saw a couple of other Eiffel replicas like this in Syria, and was wondering if these are francophiles responsible for them ? And if not, what's the story ? Love little mysteries like these...

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Train Museum... Without the Museum

Another short story from Lebanon, while I'm on the subject... We left one morning from Beirut, up the coastal highway (on which all the major bridges had been bombed out by Israel in the summer of 2006) to Tripoli, to head into Syria for several days, first objective being the Krak des Chevaliers, one of the most important Crusader Fortresses in the region. On the northern outskirts of Tripoli I asked our Lebanese driver to stop, as I had spotted what looked like old trains not far off the road. He asked me to hurry ; he didn't feel comfortable stopping there. Out in the open, or inside a raggedy hangar, were some of the loveliest old locomotives I've ever seen, despite their decaying state. I took a few pictures, not nearly as many as I would have liked and then scampered back to the car, and off we went. Within minutes we were driving along a high wall which we could just see over from the road, beyond which was a large Palestinian refugee camp, where people had been living as refugees for the past 60 years or so, in perfectly squalid conditions.
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Just a few short months later a minor confrontation with some shots fired in Tripoli turned into a major conflict in that refugee camp, which finally the Lebanese Army felt compelled to shell until there was little left but rubble. I read somewhere that around 30000 people had to be relocated from the camp. Unfortunately, these trains weren't in working order to help transport them. What a sad story. And the suffering of the Palestinian people continues today in Gaza... and tomorrow ? I find it hard to believe that they were all such bad people, as many make them out to be, a hundred years ago before they were forcibly removed from their homes and sent into exile... forced to live in limbo, in purgatory, with nowhere to call home, except somewhere, a dimly remembered place, in the distant hills beyond barbed wire and mine fields.
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The Road to Baalbek

In a much earlier chapter of this endeavor a scene from Lebanon's Bekaa Valley was posted, which also contained wrecked and abandoned cars. The fact is, such scenes as that earlier one, and this one, stretched on for miles and miles. I would have loved to have spent a few days walking the length of the road just photographing all the way from Zahle to Baalbek... but we had to get to Baalbek as there were other more historically important ruins to visit... although someday some people may look at our fields of useless and desolate automobiles with the same nostalgia and historical interest that we devote to places like the Roman ruins at Baalbek. Discarded cars, as far as the eye could see... a monument to our disposible age... where many barbarians do not give a second thought to trashing large swaths of the surface of our one and only, very lonely home, this stone, this planet Earth...

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After what seemed like hours bumping along the road up the Bekaa Valley,we finally got to Baalbek where this faded "Welcome" sign greeted us...

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Chambord

One popular destination in France is obviously the entire region along the Loire River which is dotted with large Chateaux, each trying apparently to out do the others. In 1993 shortly after arriving in France for good, some friends asked me if I wanted to take a day trip in a small airplane and fly down a good part of the Loire Valley... I jumped at the chance, and therefore had the opportunity to take a few photos like this one over Chambord. It was a beautiful day, even if by the end of the afternoon spent making tightly banked turns around numerous sites I was feeling worse than queasy. Kurt Vonnegut once said, "Invitations to travel are dancing lessons from God." All I can say is, if you ever get the chance to fly at low altitude down the Loire Valley, well, go for it ! Opportunities like that don't come often for some of us...
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Red Rocks Dead

I did not take this photograph, as much as I would have liked to have been there, I was not... I did, however, purchase this image, which was a postcard I sent to my soon-to-be but not-as-yet wife in early 1992. The postcard does not say who the photographer was, so I can't give credit where credit is due, but it does specify that the picture was taken at Red Rocks, Morrison, Colorado, on September 5th, 1985, during Estimated Prophet. I followed up on this postcard by taking my soon-to-be wife to two Dead shows at Deer Creek, Indiana on June 28th and June 29th, 1992. And those were the last two Grateful Dead shows I would ever see... as I moved to France definitively in October 1992.
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So, sadly for me I never saw the Dead at Red Rocks, which was reputed to be a magical venue. I did get to see them in Paris, France; Oxford Plains, Maine; Compton Terrace, Arizona; Atlanta, Georgia; Las Vegas, Nevada; Deer Creek, Indiana; Pittsburgh & Philadelphia (Civic Center, Spectrum, & JFK with Bob Dylan) , Pennsylvania; Landover, Maryland; Giant Stadium, New Jersey; Albany, New York; Madison Square Garden, New York; Nassau Coliseum, New York; and RFK Stadium, Washington DC where a Dark Star was played; all things considered, I had a pretty good run there for a while, and many of those shows left indelible memories as they picked us all up and swept us away to other worlds in other galaxies for entire evenings at a time. The old saying, "there is nothing like a Dead show" was absolutely true... and from that cup no more. R.I.P. Jerry...
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Palaeolithic Cave Art

As with some earlier posts of cave cars, this truck was abandoned years ago in an underground stone quarry that had served as a troop shelter in the First World War, in Picardie, France. If you have been following this blog for any length of time, you are starting to realize by now, for your author hard at work, laboring over these words and pictures, this cave truck is a pure and joyous work of art. It has been sitting for years in the pitch dark of a dank cavern slowly rusting away... and then one day, along came Owen carrying a camera with a good strong flash unit... and bingo... let there be art !

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Karl Georg Arsenius

While poking around in a very small local cemetery the other day, I took this picture of an artist's tomb because I liked the way the bas relief bust and pallet had weathered. It didn't occur to me until tonight to check the name on the internet to see if he was known anywhere beyond the cemetery in question... turns out that Karl Georg Arsenius (1855 - 1908, 53 years old, same age as Frank Zappa and Jerry Garcia, if I'm not mistaken) is indeed on the web, with images of some of his work ; which I hope no one will mind if I show here, he died over a hundred years ago. Love the lichens and the green copper stains on the stone. May he rest in peace...
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Louise : In Memoriam Softly

Louise, from the looks of things, you may not have had a wealthy family to put up a large monument for you, the best anyone could come up with was this simple wood cross, adorned with your name and the year 1968. And it doesn't look like anyone has been tending your grave lately. You may not have had an Elton John to write a song like "Candle In The Wind" for you, but whoever you were, I hope you had a happy childhood, and some measure of joy in your life, however long it lasted, as an adult. In 1968 I was only 8, so the line, "I would have liked to have known you, but I was just a kid" pertains... Even if your cross should rot away and disintegrate, may your memory live on, however ephemerally, or virtually perhaps, in these pages. Sincerely, softly, and kindly...
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Don't Get Sick

Going back to 2006, these bumper stickers for sale were on a street-side table near the University of California, Berkeley campus. Looked like it would have been a great place to go to school, as long as you're not prone to worrying about minor details like massive earthquakes long overdue. I liked the, "Our National Health Plan : Don't Get Sick". That about sums it up. Maybe Obama will do better than the last President, but he sure has a long row to hoe. Click on image for bigger, more easily readable version...

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Faded Facades

What drives me to take pictures of old, time and weather-worn dilapidated facades like this one ? May have to go ask a psychologist someday... but not anytime soon... that's just the way I like 'em. On a camping trip in Arizona not too long ago, an old friend started singing, joking about something, "That's the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it". Have had that song close to the surface of memory ever since... I can't even remember who did it, that disco related song, and I'm too lazy to look it up, anyway, have to run to work now...
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Zavatta !

This photo, taken in Perpignan, France in July 1985 is probably the first wall-covered-with-posters photo that I ever took... and it remains one of my favorites. I think that is due to the girl wrestling with the crocodile... or is it an alligator ??? Wow, like something out of Crocodile Dundee... the suspense generated by this image has been killing me ever since I took it... who wins ??? The girl ? Or the crocodile ?

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Midnight Blue

This tiny but beautiful chapel was on a stone outcropping above the port of Roscoff, Brittany, France ; photo taken on a bitter cold, clear winter day three weeks ago. I think the sensor in my camera was having a hard time between the blinding bright white walls and the brilliant blazing blue sky above, and for unknown reasons decided to darken the sky nearly to black, or at least to midnight blue... maybe something like this sky color was what Edward Abbey had in mind when he coined the title "Black Sun" for his book of that name...
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PS... Just noticed in the above that without thinking intentionally about it, I used two of the four key words in the vastly important 4B principle. You know about the 4 "B"s, right ??? No ??? Well, it goes like this : The 4 B Principle : If you can't Blind them with your Brilliance, then by all means Baffle them with your Bulls**t ! Very useful for business presentations... I don't know who coined that little gem...
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Black Pine

How about a perfectly neutral post for once ? The black silhouette of our neighbor's pine tree taken from our barred bathroom window... Black Pine... reminds me of Edward Abbey's book "Black Sun", one of the most hauntingly beautiful love stories ever written. If you haven't read it yet, well, don't wait any longer. But be careful, you may find yourself wanting to travel to Northern Arizona after having done so... and that is a whole 'nother can of worms to open...

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Avoid Hell...

Took this photo in Indianapolis, Indiana (Kurt Vonnegutt's hometown ! Welcome to the Monkey House ! Slaughterhouse 5 !) on a trip there in November 2004. I thought the first part of this sign, "Avoid Hell" was rather good advice... Whatever one's conception of "Hell" might be, the word has always been associated with unpleasant connotations, such as being sizzled slowly over a pit of red hot coals, or having to spend eternity locked in a room chained to a chair face to face with your mother-in-law, or whatever else you care to imagine, like scenes from a Hieronymus Bosch painting; better to avoid such a fate, if possible.
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As for the second line, "Repent", I always had a problem with that one... I mean, can anybody repent, no matter how awful they may have been prior to deciding to repent? Could Charles Manson repent, for example ? I guess I would not make a very good theologian... In any case, whenever I see that word now, can't help but think of Leonard Cohen's The Future. ("When they said Repent, Repent, I wonder what they meant?")
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As for the last line, not having had any dealings personally with the man, given that he died 2000 years ago, I have nothing to base trust or mistrust on. What I'm not sure I want to trust too unconditionally are all the accounts of his life that were written hundreds of years later by people with vested interests in perpetuating certain stories... If this whole subject is supposed to be about Peace and Love and Harmony and Forgiveness, why is it that the past 2000 years have been so chock full of war, hatred, discord, and revenge ; causing incalculable suffering, bloodshed, and misery ? And why is it that so much money seems to gravitate in huge quantities to religious organisations, when money has so often been called the root of all evil ? I guess I'm just a little too naive... there are surely perfectly rational explanations for all that... my apologies if I have flustered anyone's feathers with any of the above musings...
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Pierrefonds...

This little critter was hanging around on a wall in the courtyard at the Chateau de Pierrefonds, near Compiegne, France. Pierrefonds was a transit point for alot of troops moving toward the front lines during World War One, which were not all that far away from Pierrefonds. This past November there was a great exhibition there on World War One graffiti and other artifacts from the "Great War", like a large cross made out of pieces of shrapnel. The exhibition was organized by Michel Boittiaux, who, as mentioned earlier, is one of the co-authors of the excellent book about First World War graffiti, the cover of which appears below here.

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Pigs On the Hook !

On a summer day in 1986 Thierry Dupety and myself set out, cameras in hand, to go visit the huge meat packing warehouses south of Paris in the town of Rungis. We both took numerous photographs that day (this is one of mine), illustrating man's inhumanity to lesser creatures... one could rightfully ask after seeing an image like this ; why are people such pigs... to pigs ? But then again, on the other hand, I do like a good piece of bacon in the morning with my eggs... so I guess this is the price for that.

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No Phones (E.T. don't bother trying to call home here)

I spotted this sign in Oakland, California in 2006, near the waterfront, and Owen was nimble Owen was quick, Owen took a picture of it. These people clearly have a finely tuned sense of the American service oriented business culture. I'm just glad I knew where I was going and didn't need to pee or anything... jeez, what hospitality. But then again, if you read the news at all, you will know that Oakland is one of the most violent cities on Earth, so perhaps their unfriendly sign is almost understandable. I guess the real question is, what makes folks so violent ? Well, at least they said, "Thank You" ! That made me feel alot better...

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One Leg to Stand On

As you may have gathered by now, I have a thing about photographing crucifixion scenes. I'm not sure what drives me to do this... it is not out of disrespect for anyone ; at least the Catholic or other Christian institutions accept criticism... some other religions might want to have me crucified were I to say anything even vaguely critical or depict images of their sacred figures, so I will refrain from doing so. No, it is more out of interest in the way old symbols, and this one is getting pretty old now, decay or deteriorate over time. In a small Brittany village I found one that has lost a leg and suffered hip and abdominal injuries ... the missing leg was nowhere to be seen...

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From New York...

Quite a ways back in this blog I posted a photo of the Venise Circus poster still partially visible here. But after that first photo taken back in August 2008, the poster spot in question went through several changes as new posters get plastered over the earlier ones, or whole series of layers get torn off to make way for new ones. This was one of the earlier transmutations, I liked the "From New York to Coye-la-Foret"... (Coye-la-Foret is a tiny village near here)

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Which One Is Pink ?

Way back in the Summer of 1994 we went to see Pink Floyd play at the Chateau de Chantilly here in France... what a night ! Over a hundred thousand people turned up, but there was plenty of space on the vast grounds of the Hippodrome lawn in front of the Chateau, alongside the Horse Museum built by the Prince de Condé. This ticket stub just re-surfaced... blogging is a positive force in that it can cause a total upheaval while one roots through years of history looking for interesting tidbits to share... hope you are finding them tasty... And we didn't know when we saw this show that three years later we would be moving to Chantilly...
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Signs of the Past

Signs like this painted piece in a lovely blue help explain why I love travelling in France. Around any corner you never know what you're going to find... anyone need a washing machine ?
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Owl Drugs

Something about this street scene in San Francisco in 2006 pleased me... the orange Owl Drugs facade maybe ? The competing package delivery companies ? The white side of the brick building that makes it look like there is nothing behind the brick wall ? And why do owls need drugs, anyway ??? Does this have anything to do with Harry Potter, maybe ???
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Legends of Death

Out in the wild far corner of northwestern France lies a foreign country, with a foreign language, called Brittany. As I have said on numerous occasions, one aspect of living in France I particularly enjoy is all the visible history. In Breton culture, legends around the character known as Ankou, sort of the equivalent to our Grim Reaper, abounded. And if you hunt a little bit in off the beaten track churchyards, you may just stumble on figures like these carved in rough hewn granite. Images like these served to remind the illiterate that their time here on this Earth was not without limits... which is something I try to recall every day. A few hundred years early, these images could well have served as album illustrations for that unparalleled musical group, the Grateful Dead...
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Now, if this doesn't beat all, as I finished writing this post, just out of curiosity I typed "Ankou" into Google just to see if I could find a site that could tell me more about Ankou... and the very first reference that came up was for the French Wikipedia site , which had an article and a photo which you can see if you click the link. My jaw dropped, the photo is the same Ankou I just posted, the caption says "Ankou dans la Roche-Maurice, Finistere", and La Roche-Maurice is indeed where I took the below photo just a few weeks ago... it is a small hilltop village between Landernau and Landivisiau. Well I am fit to be tied... of all the places they could have found a photo of Ankou, it just happened to be the very same one that I found, purely by chance. Well, I like my photo better, taken in the rays of the setting sun, Ankou here is literally glowing, while the one on the Wikipedia site is cold and pale...
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Four Photos, a Marriage, and a Funeral

The four portraits here of my wife Anne and I were taken by Anne's good friend Astrid le Mintier de la Motte Basse, who passed away two years ago after a long struggle against cancer. The child in the last photo is Astrid's daughter who was about two at the time. Sorry for the quality of these images, they were scanned from small, glossy prints... did the best I could. These were taken shortly after we got married, and all I can say now is, after 16 years of marriage, I wouldn't trade a day of it, and everything I do, including working on this blog, is made possible by the tender loving care Anne shows me in a hundred small ways every day. And she makes darn good foie gras and fresh bread too, which is more than enough cause for any man to love a woman, as far as I'm concerned...
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Visitor Value !

I took these two photos in London in September, 1986, shortly after arriving there at the start of a roughly 5 month stay. This gentleman was not having a good day, and did not want to talk about it... The second photo contains a self portrait, for what it's worth.
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The Wall

This sign on a wall inside a cemetery says : "Do not throw anything over the wall". I couldn't help but wonder how many people are normally tempted to throw things over the walls of cemeteries ??? And also was wondering how many people do in fact throw things over this wall just to spite the authoritarian instructions to the contrary here ? Shades of Pink Floyd's The Wall come to mind...
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Raza !

Many people on this planet have a first and a last name, often with one or more middle names thrown in for good measure. This gentleman, who died on 14 June, 1918 helping to win back freedom for France from the Teutonic hordes that invaded in 1914, apparently only had one name... but what a doozy... RAZAFIMANDROSO ! Wow, hopefully he didn't get razzed to much about that...

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Which Way ?

There seems to be disagreement among sculptors as to whether the two feet of this well known crucifixion victim were each nailed separately to the cross with two nails, or whether one foot was placed on top of the other and a single, longer spike used. I've seen many examples of both versions of the story in my years of visiting graveyards. I wonder which was right ? Personally this story makes my skin crawl, and I wish the people responsible for such things could retire it, and find a kinder, less brutally violent story to use to teach our children about love. I know that is blasphemous to some folks, and my intention is not to shock or anger anyone, but seriously, less violence in any way, shape, or form, and more true love might be a good thing for this planet.

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Gone Green

A faded green face was all that was left of this individual... sometimes decay and disintegration take on surprising forms.
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Blue Christ

This sculpted Christ had fallen off a tombstone, broken his arm in the process, and was glowing blue in the late afternoon light...

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Flat Cat ! signed Thierry Dupety

First : This photo was taken and sent to me by my good old friend and source of inspiration Thierry Dupety who is one of the most marvellous frenchmen you could ever want to meet. He has a wonderful sense of humor, a fine eye for photography, excellent talent for directing films, and great taste in wine and restaurants. He has travelled and photographed widely, as well as producing short advertising films, some of which are on the site linked to here. I met him while we were both living in Paris way back in 1986, and he was a major source of inspiration to me when I was an inexperienced young photographer. Now I'm an inexperienced older photographer, and he still continues to amaze me. Another website here has some info and a photo of Thierry...
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Second : The photos posted below in earlier postings, and this one, of roadkill victims, are not taken or posted on this blog out of some prurient, macabre, ghoulish desire to shock anyone, or to demonstrate voyeuristic compulsion on my part. Roadkill is one of the saddest phenomenons of our times, where hordes of humans race about blindly in murderous machines known as automobiles, consuming vast quantities of oil, and, sadly, massacring vast numbers of beasts who were not nimble enough to get out of the way in time. If even one person slows down slightly when driving through areas where there may be animals crossing the road, after having seen these images, so much the better. Personally, I think we need to start looking for new models to base our collective worldwide society on... as the current one appears to be bankrupt in more than just a financial sense.
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Third : This flat cat is a work of art, no doubt to be quickly washed away by downpours of rain and eaten by insects, joining the infinite, and re-cycled to live again in another form perhaps. Thank you Thierry, for sharing this photo, and allowing me to publish it here. (copyright : Thierry Dupety)
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Fourth : Topaz did not do this to this cat. Topaz is much to nice for that, she is a real lady, and would never get into a cat fight.
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Topaz !

Some of you may have seen Topaz already, as I circulated her portrait to a few folks by e-mail last Fall; but for those of you who may have missed out on her the first time around, he she is in all her glory. Ain't she a beauty ? ! ? Every time I see her I break into a big grin. There will be more dogs coming soon... and zebras, and cemeteries, and wrecked cars, and any and all other joyous representations of life on this planet that my camera may happen upon...

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Pastel Apartment Blocks

Shot this photo out the window an old Mercedes Benz that we travelled in from Lebanon, into Syria, and back into Lebanon again after a 5 day odyssey from Alep to Damascus via Palmyra. This was inside Lebanon, close to the Syrian border where we had to spend at least an hour at the checkpoint in a hot, sweaty, crowded customs office...

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Venus ?

Found this piece of urban art on the wall of a boatyard shed along a river in Brittany over the New Year's holidays just a few short weeks ago. As graffiti goes, I thought it was more tasteful than much of what one sees in many urban environments. Maybe not on a par with the Winged Victory of Samothrace, or the Venus de Milo, but not bad, not bad at all. Maybe at least on the level of the Venus of Willendorf ? I liked the way the artist imitated photographic film along the edges, and the shades of blue used were out of this world.

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Sign of Hard Times

There was a sad story in last week's edition of Paris Match magazine which was highlighting the fact that there seem to be a rather large number of suicides happening all over the place these days, linked to the global economic crisis, often among formerly affluent folks who may have had to deal with large losses. Well, all I can say is, no matter how bad things may be looking ; hang in there... Springtime will be coming soon, and like the Grateful Dead sang in their excellent song New Speedway Boogie : "One way or another, this darkness got to give". Another pertinent song is Loudon Wainwright's upbeat blues tune I'm Alright... It is true, there is an awful lot of bad news in the press these days, makes you wonder whether we wouldn't be a little better served if there was a bit more optimism published from time to time. Between global warming, weather disasters, the economic implosion, over-population driving other species into extinction, and general madness among the masses... is anyone in control of anything any more ?
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I took this photo in July 1986 on one of my long walks around Paris. Loosely translated the signs say, "Suicide, nobody wants to know about it", or "Suicide, it's nobody's business". For some reason I always had the impression that the empty cable spools at the bottom had all rolled up from somewhere to come look at the sign, and their different sizes echo the different sizes of the people with their backs turned. Whatever, in any case, cheer up, things can only get better, right?
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More Zebrology...

In the interest of keeping our natural gas flowing from Russia, in case they may be thinking about turning it off again since another cold snap has started (see posts below) figured I better quick slip in another zebra or two here. Took this photo in the Louisville, Kentucky Zoo in July, 1992, shortly before packing everything up and moving to France... a move which transpired, if you recall from reading below, because a young French lady was favorably impressed with the irresistible zebra images I had sent to her... which goes to show just how important the Zebra can actually be in the domains of love and life in general...

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Graveyard Hound

As you have surmised by now, if you have looked at any number of earling postings here, I am a graveyard hound. I wouldn't say however that this calling is one driven by voyeurism or ghoulish morbid curiosity; in fact it is my love of the fine arts and the domain of "found" art that drives me to such places. Take these two bas relief sculptures for example. The first in copper, or a copper alloy that has corroded with the years, leaving lovely green stains on the stone below. The second, of a man in a cap, may have contained some iron in the mix, as it is rusting orange around the edges; and has also weathered beautifully with time. There was nothing on the grave to indicate what his profession was and thus what that hat signified...
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Perfumes in an Historic Town

Something really grabbed me about this array of small bottles containing essential oils and perfume ingredients at an outdoor market, just across the way from the fabulous mosaic museum in Maaret an-Nouman, on the road from Hama to Alep, Syria. The guidebook I was using (Gallimard Footprint) said "Maaret an-Nouman is a dusty little town of little interest, if not for the museum in a caravanserai where splendid mosaics are on display." And they were splendid indeed, I will be happy to post some examples if anyone is interested.
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However, what was of historical interest about Maaret, or Marre as it was known to European Crusaders about 900 years ago, as related in the same guidebook, is of a less charming nature; if your sensibilities are tender, you may want to stop reading here ...... ok, I warned you...
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Translated from the French guidebook : "In 1099 as a large Crusader army was advancing from Antioch across what is today Syria, they were stricken by famine as they laid siege to the town of Marre, where at least 20000 Arabs, or Sarrasins, had taken refuge. The surrounding countryside was not able to furnish enough food for the Crusaders, and many were starving to death during the siege. When they succeeded in entering Marre, they proceeded to massacre the 20000 people within, which apparently was not an uncommon practice at the time. But, as the story goes, due to the starved state they were in, a grislier fate awaited the slaughtered Arabs. A Crusader chief wrote to the Pope, "A terrible famine has struck our army at Marre, we found ourselves in the horrible necessity of nourishing ourselves with Sarrasin flesh." Another crusader, Rodolphe de Caen, wrote in his chronicle of the events, "At Marre our troops had the impious heathens boiled in cauldrons. As for their children, they were skewered and roasted over a fire before being devoured." Albert d'Aix wrote, "Our troops were not only reduced to eating the cadavers of Turcs and Sarrasins, but also their dogs." These events haunted Arab literature for centuries afterwards. It is not surprising that even today, as evidenced by much of the anti-American rhetoric circulating in the Arab world concerning events in Iraq, that Arab people may have a visceral hatred or repugnance to anything resembling a crusade."
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R.I.P. Rudi

I wrote this poem in memory of Rudi Stern in 2006... see earlier posts below about Rudi...
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....Rude September
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This afternoon, sunny
And warm for September
I chopped up the climbing rose
It was dead
Gone brown down to the root
It had not appreciated
Being uprooted and transplanted
When we tore out the old terrace
From in front of the house
Because of its considerable size
It took me quite a while
Snipping and cutting brittle branches
Heavy leather gloves
To protect me from the thorns
Stacking the dead stems
Like bones in a catacomb
All that while
Rudi I thought of you
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I suppose all those months
The rose was slowly dying
The green giving way to brown
Something of the same sort
Was happening to you
As the cancer brought you down
But the last letter I had from you
Near a year ago
Was upbeat
I thought you’d bought yourself some time
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I know when you came back to Spain
Last fall, you were feeling sort of hollow
But that may be
Because they took your right lung
In surgery
Although I think it was also partly due
To flight from your beloved New York
Your Jersey City loft was history
With all the wondrous junk it held
Your paintings your projects by the score
The fabulous lion masks and rooster signs
From Haiti that hung by the door
Your bushels of books
Piles of the New York Times
The wonderful neon clocks
Brushes soaking in turpentine
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I guess at the end of New York
The old connections just weren’t working
Many projects started but aborted
The visions of two towers falling
And people jumping, raining down
As you watched with your dog
While walking by the river
May have left you haunted
I still have the postcard
Where you invited us to your party
Which showed the view from your roof
Two days before the world changed
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So you came back to Europe
Not long after
Settled in Italy in a farmhouse
With no heat
Looking for the warmth
Of a final fling in a human relation
I remember the glowing watercolors
Of the Piedmont hills
I know you found what you were looking for
I have a photo of you standing by the door
And then I saw you no more
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I had no news for many months
My last message unanswered
And like a fool I waited
As life at work and family filled my mind
Thinking you were busy changing diapers
And living the joy of watching
Your baby girl learn to talk and walk
And though she will not remember you
In sights and sounds
Which too quickly fade
She will bear your blood
And genes for all her days
.
I cut up the rose
Stacked the branches in a bag
To throw them away
But saved a twisted piece of root
And one piece with thorns
And all the while Rudi
I thought of you
And wondered where
Your body lies
Cursing the fate who decided
That we should not say goodbye
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Syrian Station

This gas station in Syria we saw on the road up to Alep was a bit the worse for wear... another roadside attraction...

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Syrian Sunset

As I've been on a run into Syria in a few previous posts just below here, am continuing in that vein... with this sunset in the ruins at Palmyra. One of my driving motivations for making the effort, and taking whatever risks may have been involved in getting all the way to Palmyra, was having read an account of the trip that John Fowles took there long ago, which he wrote about in his superb novel "Daniel Martin". (a synopsis of which can be found on the web page linked to here) John Fowles has been one of my favorite authors since having read "The Ebony Tower" in a college English Lit. class. I then went on to discover "The Collector", "The French Lieutenant's Woman", "The Magus", and many more that he penned, and have never been disappointed by his sheer intellectual perspicacity. If you are not familiar with Fowles, I strongly encourage you to head over to Amazon and pick up a few of his works, they are rewarding reading. And while you're doing some digging, don't forget to look up Queen Zenobia, who ruled over Palmyra and an empire that stretched all the way into Egypt in the third century ! Quite a woman...

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