Phil sent me a photo.
I like it.
I like it for the colors, and that I’m in the land of the Rising Sun. But mostly I like it because Phil sent it. He frequently does.
Sometimes they’re of his bicycle,
or of him and Grace,
or Julia and Grace.
Whatever he sends, they’re always thoughtful and lift my spirits.
Phil’s the biker in the family. No one else comes close. It was in 2021, I think, that he rode 20,000 miles plus, almost all of them on his trusted one-speed.
Five years ago today he was in the second week of his TransAmerica Ride - Yorktown, VA to San Francisco. With Julia’s blessing, and his boss’s consent, he’d taken two months off to fulfill a dream. You’re never too old to go on an adventure, you know.
On that day, Phil was biking in Kentucky from Hazard to McKee. Having outrun a dog or two, he met a kindly officer,
and they became best of friends.
I like it that Phil appreciates a chance encounter and a memorable conversation.
I used to be a biker, not like Phil mind you, but I put some miles down. Phil’s photos got me in the mood, so I rented a one-speed, with a battery for assistance. I say “I” rented a bike because Pa declined to accompany me, preferring to keep his feet on the ground. And there wasn’t a bike with a seat for Freddie.
Beppu’s on the sea.
More specifically, it‘s near the tip of Kyushu Island,
Beppu Bay separating it from Shikoku Island and Yawatahma.
Being on the Bay, I sought out a bike path,
and found one.
In the habit of stopping along the way with Pa, I did,
as there was much to see.
There was art in the park,
and markers of memory
and reverence.
There were people enjoying the day,
each to his own liking.
Boats too, of course,
and walkways to them.
Thresholds for some I imagine, going on a long voyage.
After a time, the trail ran out,
as all good things do.
But there were back streets, with delights worthy of pause,
reminders of beauty’s passing,
and of life’s brevity.
On the ride back, Mt. Tsurumi loomed in the distance,
and an old Peter Mayer song came to mind.
Suddenly I saw life from the brink,
I watched an age pass me by in a wink,
For just one heartbeat,
I believed I could think,
Like a mountain.
Mountain, we measure our lives
By tens and twenty years only,
Teach us the ways of a million-year mind,
What a million-year heart
Could be hoping.
And oh if I’m wise,
I will strive and I’ll pray,
To turn a tick in time into a day,
And lead this poor
Picture-flash life in that way,
Like a mountain.
Heavy stuff. It’s interesting how a single image can change your mood.
But then a photo from Phil arrived,
a reminder that life is in the moment.
Fun! I’m so glad you rented a bike.