Tarmac ribbons criss-crossing the landscape, dusty back roads twisting between the cool shadows of ancient pines, and less traveled pathways connecting present to past, all I wander, seeking, seeing, with my keyboard and camera capturing scenes and stories to share with you.

Now in its sixth year, this venue has become an important part of my life, a place where I can express my thoughts and feelings about the things I see and do, hoping the process brings me a bit closer to friends and family who enjoy sharing my sometimes chaotic and often nonlinear observations and ideas. A journal, I suppose, but one with which I find pleasure in thinking others are alongside me on my journey.

Comments, thoughts, or just a friendly chat, use the response box below or email me at patrickgroleau@gmail.com.

September 9, 2018

NARRAGANSETT BAY CRUISEABOUT

  
... one of the definers of a family is how it reacts to crisis or tragedy ... in this saddest of times, still my brother says to me, "friday, your birthday  present is a sunset lighthouse viewing cruise of narragansett bay" ... had he cancelled, which would have been completely understandable, for me the thought alone would've been the best of gifts, so to board the boat and head out onto the water was more than a wonderful marking of the anniversary of my birth, it turned out to be a joyful celebration of life itself ...

... on the runway at the old quonset naval station we noticed a plainly painted boeing 747 ... without going into specific details, should the zombie appocylpse take place it is from this aircraft (or one of its siblings) that the human resurgence will be directed ... 
   
  
... the plum island light, now a rather pricey b&b (not for sleepwalkers, for sure) ...
   
  
... the new "jamestown-verazzano bridge" ... yes, it's clearly an improvement over the old structure, but it's not near as thrilling to cross ...
   
  
... sameen enjoyed listening to an ol' salt tell exciting tales of the sea ...
   
  
... you can see the towers of the pell bridge behind the dutch island lighthouse ...
   
   
... over 150 years old, the beavertail light and the point upon which it is perched is one of my favorite places in the world ... many an hour i spent here not attending college classes ...
   
   
... i'm submitting this one to the crest toothpaste company ... ...
   
  
... a long, long time ago, say forty-seven years or so, at low tide, some of my friends and i jumped into the water in front of the lighthouse and raced out to the buoy and back again ... no, i didn't win, but it was great fun ...
   
   
... fifty-five (thanks for the catch, liz) sixty-five years ago a young socialite with a degree in french literature danced away her wedding reception on hammersmith farm's great lawn ... her war-hero politician husband would eventually be elected the 35th president of the united states and she would become one of the most beloved and admired women in the world ...
   
   
... along our route were many graceful sailing vessels ...
   
   
... while moored alongside some of the "lifestyles of the rich and famous" yachts were these boats which quite obviously worked for a living ... quaint, for sure, but i'm betting that many of those staying at the hideously expensive hotel on the shore very quickly lose any appreciation of the odor that wafts from the docks up to their rooms ...
   
   
... my brother, clearly, was in his element ... during his coast guard service narragansett bay was his office, and all around him were impressed with his knowledge of its history and geography ...
   
  
... the rose island lighthouse, which is rather surprisingly a relatively affordable place to take a little getaway for a few days ...
   

... in a darkening sky ours was a calm voyage beneath the bridge and back to port ...

... it was a time for us to enjoy sharing the bay and one another ...

... it was a time for us to make pause, and, in the midst of terrible pain and great sorrow, reflect upon the many wonderful blessings in our lives ...

"And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. 
Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. 
Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. 
They existed.  They existed.
We can be.  Be and be better.
For they existed."
MAYA ANGELOU