After Dave’s stint in the Marshall Islands, Rob invited him to stay upstate with him.  Dave jumped at the chance to share some brotherly companionship.  He promptly set up his room–or should I say “cave?”–with all his favorite wall hangings.  He committed to becoming a New Yorker and settled in with good books and new projects to work on with Rob.  He was content.  He would sit on Rob’s deck and soak in his surroundings and was inspired often to write about it.  They had lots of plans, but after the Survival Course he wanted to take.

He knew how much I enjoyed the peace and quiet of the woods at Rob’s.  It was my go-to place when I needed a break from life.  So when I retired to a house just a short walk from Rob, I could just imagine Dave smiling down at me.  During the move, I came across a drawing Dave made when he was 9 or 10.  He had written on it, “My house someday.”  It was a house in the woods that looked so much like either Rob’s or my house.  I have it framed in my living room.

During my first weeks here, it seemed like a community of butterflies were seeking us out; some as large as small birds.  One in particular hitched a ride on Molly’s back during one of our first walks here after the move.  With each season, I say, “Dave would really love…the beautiful fall foliage, the gentle snowfall, the hummingbirds, the peeper frogs, the starry skies, the wildflowers,” and on and on.

In order to get to Glen Spey, we regularly travel through one of the most beautiful views; Hawk’s Nest, which is part of the Delaware Scenic Byway.  Of all the beautiful places here, this has the most dramatic view so I decided to sprinkle some of Dave’s ashes here, but the additional pictures show the beauty of the surrounding woods and the rivers.

When I sit on my deck with a book in my lap, listening to the sounds of the woods, how I wish Dave were here to share it with me.
 
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The Chateau de Chenonceau is a French chateau near the small village of Cheonceaux in the Loire Valley of France.

There are many beautiful chateaux in the Loire Valley, but in my opinion, Chenonceau is the most stunning of all.  The grounds and gardens are magnificently manicured and the castle looks like it belongs in a fairy tale.  It sits across the fast-moving Cher River, which makes it very unique from the other castles.

Dave would have laughed at my several attempts to sprinkle his ashes out of one of the windows over the river.  The windows were closed and there were signs NOT to open them.  I could just hear Dave saying, “Go for it, Mom. Break the rules!”  I had an accomplice watching for the guards.  With a few failed attempts,  I finally opened the window, sprinkled his ashes, posed for the snapshot, and hurriedly closed the window just as a guard walked by.  My heart was pounding as I was trying to look so innocent.  I certainly didn’t want to be escorted out of the chateau.  Now Dave really would’ve laughed at that!

I’m sure Dave wouldn’t think a castle would be his kind of place, but he would definitely love the river since he could always be on the move, just like he was in life.  But it was the entire package that was so lovely; the river running under the castle and alongside the lovely gardens.

But most of all, I’m sure he’d love that his mother was a rebel!

 

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June 4th, 1944.  Utah Beach. Ninth Division Infantry, Medical Unit.  Battle for Cherbourg.  Capture. Starvation Hill. Train.  Prisoner of War–Kustrin. Liberated by the Russians. Travel to freedom.

As we were growing up, we didn’t hear very much about the war years.   As we got older bits and pieces were slowly revealed.  It wasn’t until I was an adult that I was able to coax details from Dad during some of our fishing trips.  By the time the grandchildren became teenagers, they, too, encouraged Dad to share his memories and he began sharing more of his experiences. We were dumbfounded with the stories of his capture and his life as a POW in a German camp.  It was hard to imagine what he went through, but his stories painted a vivid picture of what he endured; mostly frightening, some heartwarming, and, yes, some humorous.  Shortly before he passed away, we videotaped his recollections; not only of his battles in Germany, but also in North Africa.

After hearing these stories over the years, it became very important for me to retrace Dad’s journey from the D-Day landing on Utah Beach to his capture near St. Lo.  After providing all of the details needed for my guide to research the movements of his unit, we were ready to begin.

We began by standing on Utah Beach and imagining how this calm beachfront could be the same place that  was blood-drenched over sixty years ago.  This was a turning point for my father.  I felt it was definitely an appropriate place for Dave’s ashes—in memory of his Grandpa.

In our travels we stopped near a sheep farm.  As my guide was explaining the movement of the troops, an elderly gentleman walked up to him with a slight scowl on his face asking why the guide was pointing at his property.  When the guide explained that my father marched through this area on D-Day, the man turned to me with tears in his eyes, shook my hand with both of his hands, and said, “merci, merci, merci!”  The guide later told me that this man was just a small boy on D-Day, but he remembered the Americans coming through and how much he appreciated what the Americans did for France.  He also pointed out where the Medical Unit set up a temporary hospital.

Over the years, my Dad would say he was captured near St. Lo.  It was actually a little town called le Desert.  Some of the town’s buildings still have bullet holes in the stucco. There were so many stories during the day that touched me more than I can say.  But none more than when I was standing by the field where my Dad was captured.  I absorbed the peaceful silence while imagining the abject fear of the men as they were rounded up in the early morning hours.  Dave’s ashes are here, also, along with one of my father’s medals.

Dad’s capture was just the beginning of the next chapter; his experiences travelling to the prison camp, his life as a prisoner, his liberation, and finally his journey by foot, bicycle, cart and train to make it to freedom.

Memorial Day—the perfect time to remember my two favorite veterans; my Dad and Dave!!

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As a young girl, I always dreamed that one day I would travel to France.  Since none of my friends or family shared this dream, I realized no-one was responsible for making MY dreams come true.  It was up to me to make it happen. 

This lesson was taught to me by the way Dave lived his life.  Nothing would stop him from experiencing what he wanted to do—even if he had to do it alone.  So I concentrated on improving my communication skills and faced my fear of getting lost. That combination was certainly daunting and quite a challenge!

I wanted to combine my long-time wishlist places, but also to recreate my father’s journey in Normandy on D-Day (next post) and make a visit to Claude Monet’s gardens in Giverny.  Shortly after Dave’s death, one of Dave’s close friends, Krissy, visited the gardens during her honeymoon.  She remembered Dave that day by placing one of his funeral cards under a willow tree in the gardens so I definitely wanted this to be one of the places I visited.

Claude Monet designed and created the beautiful gardens in the rural town of Giverny.  The love of his gardens is clearly evident in the lovely water lily paintings and the famous Water Lily Pond, which is pictured above.  There were hundreds of varieties of flowers and trees; dahlias, nasturtium, sunflowers, bell flowers, to name a few, but none more beautiful than his famous water lilies.   It was here from the bridge at the Water Lily Pond that I sprinkled the tiniest bit of Dave’s ashes.  It is probably the most well-known painting by Claude Monet.  Whenever I see it now, I think of Dave. 

Maybe you will, too.

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A glass bottom cable car delivered us 3.5 miles, the longest cable car ride in Asia, to the top of the mountain of the Po Lin Monastery where the Tian Tan Buddha presides.

The 98 ft tall Buddha overlooks the spectacular mountain views with his giant hand raised delivering a blessing to all.   Millions of visitors visit the Buddha to light incense, say prayers, and make wishes.  It is not a simple task as there are 268 steps to reach the base of the Buddha.

Part of the Buddhist belief is to live in the “now;” something I’m just learning myself—mostly from Dave and how he lived his life. 

This amazing spiritual place was another perfect spot to spread Dave’s ashes.  I sprinkled his ashes onto the mountainside in the lovely flowers below and made my wishes.

This was the last place in China where I  sprinkled Dave’s ashes.  As the plane heads home for our 15 hour flight, I feel sad leaving Dave behind once again.  But part of me smiles knowing that Dave would think how cool it was that a little bit of him rests in such fantastic places in China.

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As we prepared for a cruise through one of China’s most scenic areas, the Li River in Guilin, I was initially terribly disappointed at the heavy traffic lining up at the docks and the mad rush to board.  How could this be the surreal experience that was advertised?  This was supposed to be one of the most beautiful places for Dave.  All I read was that it was a favorite of poets and artists.  How could I experience the beauty and calm of the area with bumper-to-bumper boat traffic on the river?  How could my pictures convey a special place for Dave?

As we left the docks my expectations were pretty low, but I was happily surprised to see how the sharp bends of the river served as a screen from the other boats. It felt as if we were alone on the river.  I gradually understood the connection that poets and artists had with this beautiful place.

The steep dramatic limestone formations shot high into the blue sky. Water buffalos lumbered along  the shore while a few enjoyed a leisurely dip in the river.  A grandmother, grandfather, and grandson took a quick rest on the shore’s edge watching and waving at the boat while cormorants sunned themselves on a log in the water.  It definitely was surreal.

One of the most beautiful places on the Li is The Painted Hill of the Seven Horses.  Legend says that the horses were in heaven and came to earth secretly to drink the water of the beautifil Lijiang.  An artist saw them and wanted to paint them.  They became spooked and ran wildly into the cliffs where they remain a part of the cliffs forever.  It is definitely a beautiful place, but no matter how hard I look, I can’t see the horses!  In this beautiful place is where I sprinkled Dave’s ashes.

The passengers on the boat kept wondering aloud why there were so many butterflies on the boat.  I just smiled to myself  because  I knew why they were there.

Being one of the most beautiful places in China is certainly a place worthy of Dave!

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A river cruise down the Yangtze–something I never could have imagined in my wildest childhood dreams! The Yangtze was in my geography and history books; a faraway place that seemed like another planet.  Who could have imagined that someday I’d be cruising down this historical river?

Now if it were Dave taking this trip, he’d want to sail down the river in a sampan Chinese Junk boat with a boatload of old, chain-smoking, toothless Chinese men.  Me?  A little comfort doesn’t hurt the experience!

We had been told that the view had drastically changed due to the purposeful flooding of the Yangtze River to prepare for the construction of the Three Gorge’s Dam and that the Gorges had lost most of their charm. But as we cruised away from the dock and the muddy waters of the Yangtze, we were pleasantly surprised to see the water color changing to a beautiful green and were wonderfully impressed by the dramatic vistas before us. There was no mistaking we were in China with the little villages dotting the mountainsides and the farmers along the riverside wearing modernized coolie hats.

I spread Dave’s ashes in a unique and beautiful place; the Wu Gorge at Goddess Peak.  It is a very well-known and starkly beautiful rock formation in the Yangtze River / Three Gorges.  As I sprinkled his ashes, I was once again overwhelmed to be in such an exotic place for Dave…in the green, green, waters of the Yangtze River in the middle of China! Of course, during the course of cruising along this area, several black butterflies flitted by.

There’s a myth that the Goddess watches over the boatmen on the river. Maybe now she’ll also watch over Dave.
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The Great Wall of China!  I can’t believe I actually completed the journey that Dave and I planned to do together.  Of course, his idea of traveling in China included trekking through the country and maybe staying awhile to teach English.  I said (tongue in cheek with a heavy sigh) “Sure Dave, that’s a great idea.  If something happened to you, I’d never know it.  Why not settle on just traveling there first.”  I told Dave that he was the reason I had most of my gray hair!  “Ya gotta live, Ma.  Ya gotta experience stuff.”

So, I went to China, but forging ahead alone in such a foreign country was not in the cards for me.  Sorry, Dave, but I had to take a tour for this one.

In my journal, I wrote, “As we neared the entrance to The Wall, I felt the emotions get the best of me–like when we approached Mt. McKinley.  Dave was supposed to make these trips and it just really hurts that I am seeing these spectacular places and it should be Dave; not me.  He’s the one who had such plans to travel the world.  I know he looked forward to this trip because he mentioned it to his friends and even, Jess, his buddy on the Survival Course.  I sure hope he was sitting on my shoulder!”

It wasn’t easy to climb The Wall. I huffed and puffed as I climbed the steep steps (and this was the “Easy Route!)  Part of the problem is that the steps differ in height so it throws off your cadence whether you’re going up or down.

There were other beautiful places in China where I sprinkled Dave’s ashes, but The Great Wall was the most special. 

It was something we planned to do together.
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The storm clouds gathered as we headed north for our visit to the Giant’s Causeway; not just the usual passing shower kind of clouds, but the I’m-sticking-around type of rain clouds. We had been hoping for beautiful snapshots and now the rain was going to take all the pop out of our pictures. I should have known by now that Ireland weather likes to play with you–sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy. And that’s what happened again! We walked in the rain for awhile and then the sun came out with double-decker rainbows. Everything was fresh and green and brilliant!

The Causeway is an amazing rock formation along the shore. The rock columns are the result of an ancient volcanic eruption. The sea “instantly” cooled the rocks into their current hexagonal shape. From a distance they appear to be cigarettes standing on end. As unusual and striking as the formation is, we found the surrounding area to be even more beautiful and awe-inspiring. It had it all; the angry sea crashing on the rocks, the calm blue coves with the sea gently lapping the shore, the sheer cliffs, and the expansive green pastures with cattle, sheep and horses. It had been as spectacular as Mt McKinley—just in a different way.

It was a magnificent place to once again spread some of Dave’s ashes.

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In researching for the most interesting places to visit in No. Ireland, I ran across the website for the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge.  The pictures of it were beautiful, but it definitely caused my stomach to flip at the thought of whether I could actually cross this rope bridge, which is almost 100 feet above the rocky, angry waves below.

The hike to the bridge was beautiful in itself, but as we rounded the bend to see the rope bridge, Rob, Bob, Jan, and I took a few deep, nervous breaths before we headed to the bridge.  We were a bit (actually, MORE than a bit) concerned because we had been told that the wind was very strong that day and the bridge could possibly be closed if the winds increased.  Seeing the swaying bridge caused some people to change their minds at the last minute.  But we anxiously moved on.

We had to carefully place one foot in front of the other while tightly holding the rope railings.  However, I clutched Dave’s ashes in my right fist so I could only rest my fist on the rope. The wind was buffeting us tremendously.  Once over the water, I opened my hand and instantly clutched the railing.  How exhilarating once we reached the other side!  The view was indescribable–the blue, blue water, the clear blue sky, wildflowers growing on the cliff sides.  The only problem was we had to walk back. Gulp!

We were told that sometimes people finally make it across and were so frightened that they wouldn’t walk back so boats had to be sent to the island to pick them up.  If we had done that, Dave would’ve hung his head in shame at such a “wussie” family.

Friends exclaimed, “What, are you crazy!!  You wouldn’t catch me doing that.”  I can only recall how many times I said those words to Dave. 

Well, Dave, I hope we did you proud.

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