The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields were glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.

…To an Athlete Dying Young by A. E. Houseman

A sad poem, a bright memory for Nicole and Jeff, who remain eternal champions and beloved friends, teammates, students, and family members.  

We join ourselves to you in love and open-heartedness.  

We remember your joy.

A Clawing Winter...

ON THE WATER

the breeze
sweeps the surface,
and ripples a buoyant man’s neck.

His hairs begin to bristle,
every current chills him gently.
The cyan clarity reflects only the sun.

Leaves of amber and fulvous
meld cohesive piles
sprinkled with slits from autumn rains.

Tree’s fallen branches
man’s stroking arms
limbs float over the foam

the gust
abrades the surface,
and stings a surprised man’s shoulders.

A clawing winter challenges,
A short tranquil autumn

The water churns.

...Samuel Berzok, East Brunswick in the Tufts Daily Observer

You may think this is a poem, but it's really my first grandchild.  My son Sam composed this during his initial semester at Tufts University in Medford, MA when he was a member of the Tufts Crew Team.  Sending one's firstborn off to college is a magical, sad, wonderful, scary thing.  We are all a bit out to sea and just getting used to our new way of being a family.  Sam is right.  This winter has been clawing, and the tranquility of autumn ended with Sandy here in New Jersey.  As in this poem, first a breeze, then a gust carries us across the churning water. 

This poem recalls a simpler time, though that time was only five months ago.  We think that we can control everything, but we can't.  Seasons change; storms come.  All we can do is keep rowing.

Remember it's still Lent.  Let's reflect on what we do.

Keep reading and writing,

Maureen