In my last blog, I ruminated about and wrote on my attraction to Italy, its people and places in general, and then focused on Siena’s palio horse race in particular. In this blog, I want to present images of Siena, taken by my Friend Clive, photographer of remarkable skill and intuition, while walking within the Medieval-walled part of this magnificent city over a one week period in February 2019. Through what lens, literally and figuratively, do we look and what do we see when we visit and walk in a country/city/venue different from our home? For me, the images capture so much of the sensation of the town, its people,…

  Travelling for me was never high on my list of things-to-do. My ingrained, self-created story and perception was trips were time-consuming, expensive, and never as comfortable as home. While there is a part of me that still holds to that belief, I have become far more interested in visiting different parts of the world, from Australia to South Africa, the UK, and various parts of Europe. About 10 or 12 years ago, I remember standing in downtown Rome, Italy, and marveling at the fact that I was actually standing in downtown Rome. From taking 5 years of high school Latin – I maintain to this day that Latin is…

… more than 40 years have passed since my first Boston marathon in 1978. Learning to run, doing something so elemental, challenging, peace-enhancing, quiet, and just so very physical has been a joy and a privilege for which I give thanks every day. This blog stems from a piece I did a few years ago. The events leading up to that Boston and my lifelong passion in being a runner are imprinted within me as though it were yesterday… Running, in my early life, had always been a means to an end – the fastest way to track down a squash ball or a badminton shuttlecock or to get underneath…

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.~ A. E. Housman, To an Athlete Dying Young I saw his muscles move, marveled at them, as though in living bas relief, every day for more than 10 years. Temba lived in his body and I lived in wonder and awe of how he moved. And greatest of all, I was privileged to move with him, to run with a being who exuded grace, power, fluidity, and just the sheer joy of movement. He wasn’t about how or why, rather he was all about what; he knew his own magnificence;…

The first page of text in W.P. Kinsella’s pastoral, fantasy novel, Shoeless Joe, begins with two of the most well-chosen words relative to the theme of a novel, “My father….” On the surface, the novel is about building a baseball diamond, in the middle of an Iowa cornfield and recapturing some of the players from the notorious Chicago Black Sox team of 1919, the year 8 members of that team were convicted of trying to fix the world series’ outcome. One of the 8 men was renowned athlete, ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson, so named after he removed his ill-fitting cleats to play in his baseball stockings early in his career. Voices…