A word from management

Perhaps you have noticed that I have tried to settle into a pace. I have attempted to post on Thursday’s with limited success, but even some hearts beat irregularly. 

Still. Having noted my thoughts for a brief time, as the river keeps track of these things, I thought it appropriate to give an acknowledgement of thanks to the two who made this all possible – my mother and my father. It is with some sadness that they are no longer here on earth, to read these words or see what I see.

But the river moves on and I will not go into detail their many contributions to my achievements.

And as many do, but I in my own way, I would like to thank Name Withheld Here. My faith and lack thereof prohibits me from being more explicit or vocal. Suffice it to say that it is not for nothing that I do not believe in, nor acknowledge in mere words that which is deep within my soul or not, which surprisingly seems to exist, but what is written there eludes me, as does the river, at times.

So I play with words, baldly at times, with exuberance, at times, with intent, at times, like a child, at times.

And so, dear reader, if you have come this far, know that you are not the reason that I walk to the river, nor are you the reason that I write what I write, or take photographs of some of what I see. But I do appreciate your company. Your imaginary or perhaps merely hidden presence has helped me focus my attention and my thinking.

Give me a holler from where you are on this path - ahead, or behind or just waking from a nap in the underbrush, if you are so inclined. I think we pass on the street from time to time. You know, or can find, my email address. If you write by hand, as some still do, now and then, my street address is in the phone book. And of course, comments can be made directly to the blog if you have a Google account, or other recognized ID, which helps to scare away anonymous trolls.

A little housekeeping note. Some of you will realize that I have tended to post a bit of writing separate from a preceding picture. This makes navigating the archive awkward. My intent, moving forward, is to post photos and words under one heading so that they are formally joined.

Furthermore, I plan to vary my path on a whim. The river still beckons, nay draws, but my feet may spend more time going by way of Mary’s Lake, or Mt. Oread, for example.

But even when my back is turned, and I am pointed in another direction, I am walking to the river. It’s a kind of space-time conundrum.

And, I think the writing may drift farther afield, as well.

Again, a few of you have indicated that you follow, on occasion, this chronicling of my walk to the river. While I will continue entirely on my own, if need be, some signal that you recognized the blaze I left on a tree, or the three stones stacked one on top of the other so that I, or others, could find that spot again, would be uplifting.

I suggested at the outset a word from the management and here I have given paragraph upon paragraph.

Here are a few words, stacked one next to the other: walk to the river. With, in a word, gratitude.

So be it.

Bert Haverkate-Ens