If you must come to the sea...
Aug. 5, 1997
After just a minute's walk from school, I sit down in the morning sun, between the gently lapping ocean and the footpath. Those passing by-- walking dogs, jogging, cycling, marching steadily -- seem curiously driven forward and uninterested in the mysterious universe of sand and water whose edge they skirt. The crying gulls seem to either be laughing, or else warning the uninitiated to keep their distance. For if you must come to the sea, then be prepared to leave your words behind, like the scattered and useless furniture that once littered the pioneer trails.
A pelican sails slowly out over the water toward the small moored boats, flapping occasionally, and drawing my sight to the horizon. And two feelings come in quick succession. One, the feeling that the sea goes on forever like the starry universe. The other, a feeling that this same eternity is a circle that, in an instant, flashes round the world and ends again with me where I sit. Only when words are used, do the two feelings seem to conflict with each other.
My attention is brought back to the present by a tourist--English, perhaps?--who stops to ask how long a walk it is to Cannery Row. As he walks off with his female companion, I notice they are not walking with the same nervous, almost frenetic scramble as the others. They are probably in love...
Within a minute, a roar begins and grows louder until a group of jets flying in diamond formation appears and finally flies directly overhead with a thundering shout. It seems as if this is man's answer to the wordless question lapping gently below me. But soon the shriek dies out, and the quiet of the sea returns. And there remains no question as to who has won.
MY FATHER
by Dale E. Victorine 9/18/97
For
Andrew A. Victorine 1898-1989
In Memoriam
Oft'
now have I seen my father,
These eight years gone from our sight,
In regions of sleep;
Still quiet,
Still absorbed in questions:
The inner meanings,
The ultimate Truths...
He was not the kind
To stop at easy answers--
Or even easy questions,
Knowing there was always
More to understand,
More to be discovered
Just beyond the bend.
He was not a man
well traveled;
but he moved on inner roads,
Searching the horizon
For that elusive answer
Only his heart could sense.
It seems so easy
now to see
That it was this--
His Legacy to me:
A restless mind
That will not stop its searching;
Turning a problem over
And over in its hands
Like a wond'rous stone
Until the lust'rous truth
Gleams forth from its depths.
But then no sooner
Does my wonderment die down,
Than a new and brighter pebble
Will catch my eye,
And I must pick it up...
Perhaps in that
bright place
Where my father dwells
He gathers stars to ponder;
Or else Ideas themselves
Become as precious stones
In his restless hands.
Come now, my father,
And we’ll walk the road together
Beyond the distant bend.
Perhaps we’ll find
The Greater Truth we seek,
If not, a part of it, at least.
And when we’ve picked it up
We’ll watch it shine.
We’ll watch it shine.
DIANA
9/4/97
And so now, our dear friend,
It is we who remain
While you journey on alone
To a higher ground;
And looking down on us,
Smile that mischievous smile
That made you dearer still.
And suddenly it seems now
That you were somehow not
Just a woman,
A princess,
A mother,
A friend...
But a shooting star, gleaming brightly,
Then passing into a dream....
Maybe you knew that we would
Never see you clearly
While you remained so near--
Our childish eyes fix’d
Upon your pointing finger,
Instead of the way
You were pointing out.
And we stand now dumbly
With our questions:
“Why a life so short?”
While you gently say,
“Not as short as this child’s life,
If you don’t try to help her...”
And we ask, “Why the terrible waste?”
Your reply, “Not as terrible
As your wasted chances to make
A difference in the world.”
“And why”, we ask,
“The fearful pain?”
You only say, “The pain is passed,
But the Love remains.”
So now, our dear friend,
It is we who remain
While you journey on alone
To a higher ground,
Where time is but a smile.
And we hope you won’t think it silly
If we take a long farewell,
Knowing that a longer time will pass
Before we have another quite so dear as you.
We only hope we can love you better
Than we did.
Not with the childish dazzlement
That made you laugh and weep,
But with acts of Love
From loving hearts.
Hearts that will forever
Hold you as Queen.
Farewell, Diana.
(Dedicated
to Princess Diana)