Saturday, I attended a memorial service for Pat Whitfield, who was born in 1913 and lived for more than 100 years. What was remarkable about Pat was not that she lived so long, but how deeply she touched the lives of everyone she met along the way. You see, Pat had an extraordinary gift for making everyone she met feel special. She instantly welcomed us all into her circle of friends. She taught us how to laugh and how to smile. Her love was unconditional and she shared it generously. Those fortunate enough to know Pat will always cherish the feeling of being bathed in the warm glow of her smile and surrounded by the music of her laughter.
Now don’t get me wrong. Pat was no Mother Theresa. She could be bawdy and brash. She was often profane. She liked to have a Scotch on occasion. Sometimes two. She took delight in the foibles and follies that make up the human comedy we call life. The memorial service was one of the most joyous I have ever attended. As family and friends retold stories of her life, laughter echoed inside the chapel and it seemed as though Pat was there as well, smiling and laughing along with us.
After the service, the family planned to scatter her ashes upon the waters of Narragansett Bay. In the late afternoon, a line of thunderstorms rippled through the area. As I watched the lightning flash and heard the thunder booming in the distance, I wondered if Pat hadn’t orchestrated this little bit of natural drama to test her new found powers in the celestial world. When the sun burst through afterwards, I asked myself if this wasn’t Pat’s way of reminding us she would always be around, smiling down upon us. It would be just like here to do something like that!
Adieu, Pat Whitfield. I will carry your memory in my heart forever.
Last weekend, my wife and I journeyed to the beautiful campus of Monmouth University in New Jersey for the annual Sports Literature Association conference. She, having a Ph.D. in media literacy, fit right in. I, on the other hand, have no credentials whatsoever. But in order to get me to drive her to New Jersey, she worked me into the program. But what to talk about?
After wracking my brain and coming up empty (a common occurrence for me), my wife suggested I talk about the day I was in Siena, Italy on the day the Gran Premio di Tazio Nuvolari came to town. The Nuvolari is not a race. It is mostly an excuse to take the wraps off million dollar antique race cars and take them for a ride across Italy from Pisa to the Adriatic. The event stops at all major cities along the way and one of those stops was Il Campo in Siena.
Il Campo is the town square where the Palio horse race takes place twice a year, just as it has for the past 500 years. Actually, calling it a horse race is sort of like calling Lewis and Clark’s expedition a camping trip. The jockeys ride bare back and the only rule is to finish first. Thanks to the wonders of YouTube, I was able to entertain my audience with a clip of the actual racing. No matter how you try to describe it in words, seeing it live is the only way to demonstrate the violence and passion of this sporting contest.
We spent last weekend in Newport on our first home exchange of 2013. Our exchange home was a delightful historic cottage just a few blocks from Broadway and a short walk from the waterfront.
After dabbling our toes in the ocean (still a little cool for swimming at this time of year), we read books and worked on ridding our bodies of the deathly white skin bequeathed to us by too much time indoors over the course of a long winter.
As we were licking our sugar cones on our way home, we heard a cry of delight erupt from one of the taverns along Thames Street. The Bruins had scored a goal to tie the score of Game Two in the Stanley Cup finals. We got home in time to watch the third period. The game ended in a tie, but then our beloved Bruins prevailed over the Black Hawks in overtime. What a day!
On Sunday, we drifted back to The Corner Cafe for Portuguese sweet bread french toast coated with maple butter. Oh my. What a delicious way to start the day! Then we drove around 10 Mile Drive, ending up at Sail Newport at Fort Adams. Since we are members, we took one of their J 22’s out for a 3 hour sail on Narragansett Bay, before turning the Miata homeward once again.
The Easter Bunny came to call this past weekend. Sunday was a glorious day with sunny skies and warm temperatures – the kind of day that gives us hope that we will actually be able to go to the beach again some day soon. The grandkids were in attendance, due to their parents moving into a new home, so of course we had to have an Easter Egg Hunt.
Lillian was so excited by the idea of an Easter Egg Hunt on Saturday night she was sure she wouldn’t be able to get to sleep. But she did and stayed asleep until the unheard of hour of 7 am! After getting dressed, brushing teeth, putting on shoes and finding coats, the kids were ready to set off in search of the precious cargo brought by the Easter Bunny.
The next order of business was an Easter breakfast featuring scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, cereal, toast, honeydew melon and yogurt. Oh, and some pizza left over from Saturday dinner. Yummm….
There is something about a roadster that just makes us smile. It promises speed, power and adventure with a hint of danger. After all, actress Isadora Duncan was strangled while riding in a roadster when her long scarf became entangled in the rear wheel. People started wearing much shorter scarfs after that!
When you think of Australia, what image comes to mind? For most folks, it is the Sydney Opera House, that iconic building that stands on the shores of Sydney Harbor. There really is no structure quite like it anywhere else in the world.
Rhode Trips 