Celebrating a blue dragon's (pipe) smoke

By way of celebrating Father's Day, I thought I'd post the following pictures which Timm took when he flew to Pennsylvania in late April 2007 to attend Dad's 80th birthday.

This first group of photos were taken during the birthday celebration proper on April 26, where friend -- some of from a half-century ago -- drank wine, ate food, gave homage and ate cake that was carved with a sword by my father. The "blue dragon" in the photo above is a fanciful representation of the mythic Dragon of Blue Mountain, against whose slopes Columcille rests. My father said Timm was a dear at the celebration, affable, helpful, unobtrusively taking pictures. In his later years, Timm always showed up to help, shouldering the load with a smile, making things go smoothly.

That's Dad with Barbara Sheri, an old family friend. Barbara started work as church secretary for my father the day I was born.

Fred and Dad celebrate a toast.

Brother Will, Dad and Timm.

The next set of pictures are from around Columcille, taken on April 30. Timm was obviously walking with Dad as he took pictures because he photographed Dad a number of times. Dad also turned the camera on Timm on several occasions.

I have been on that walk many times with Dad at Columcille, ambling slowly from house down to field where the Saint Oran's bell tower takes up a corner and there's a circle of standing stones; down at the other end is Manannan, at about 30 feet the largest standing stone at Columcille, and Lia Fail, the boulder which has a naturally carved seat in it. From there it's into the woods, stopping in the chapel to sit and talk, voices resonant in the stone chamber; then out to climb up the Glen of the Temple, a corridor which follows a rise in the land with stones set on either side and topped by Thor's Gate, a massive dolmen.

I can imagine the two talking as they walked, Dad pausing to light his pipe and squint, mulling over a thought, talking a while about something he'd written in his journal about Being, listening to Timm tell about his work with Congresswoman Hooley or photography gigs. My father's hearing is fading on him, and with Timm's hearing shot in one ear, they must of done a lot of inclining toward each other to listen, taking the words in, straining, caring enough about the relationship to make the words matter.

Looking up through the Saint Oran Bell Tower, which is without a roof on purpose, as if to say the work is never quite finished.

Manannan.

Into the woods.

Interior of the chapel. Timm's ashes will be interred into one of the crypts in the floor.

The Glen of the Temple, with Thor's Gate at the summit.

I can only remember a few times over the years that Timm and I were both at Columcille. One occasion was back in the summer of 1976. I was 19 and Timm would have been around 12. Sister Molly was also there, as was Nana, our grandmother (Dad's mother). There was a lot of renovation on the house - part of it was extended out, a fieldstone fireplace was built (I hauled all of the stones in a wheelbarrow, up from a row south of the barn), bedrooms were added on the second floor. Amid all of that work we made meals for twelve (it seemed) three times a day and washed all of those dishes by hand. One afternoon I was finishing up the lunch dishes watching Timm and his cousin Jeffrey out the kitichen window as they walked down to the barn. They were both overweight prepubescents, Timm like me having a lot of belly fat in anticipation of the height he would soon get. The two of them lumbered on down to the barn door, talking in a low murmur, dum de dum, opened it: Only to freeze for a second, shoulders hunched: then backpedaled, turned round and hauled ass back up to the house so fast that I swear they blue, if hefty, streaks. Turned out they had had an encounter with an enormous black snake who was coiled inside the barn door.








Most of Timm's ashes will be interred in the floor of the chapel some time this summer. There are a number of crypts in the chapel, but Dad has decided to bury Timm's ashes in the crypt his own ashes will go into. The final few pictures were taken by brother Will with Timm's camera after getting back from Salem, celebrating my father's 81st birthday. Be sure to check out the Columcille website if you haven't yet.

Happy 81st!

That's Lochea, recent ex-puppy and blue-eyed Columcille mascot.

The camera turns on shutterbug Will. Look for more of his photos here in few days.

Timm's ashes now rest in this box.