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| Entry: At one time, our city was great- shiny, beautiful, bustling with energy. There were dreams of glory and people of such fresh vision for what we would and could be. Though, at first, our future had meaning and purpose, it soon became toxic- plans got out of hand, money became the communication as well as the cause for miscommunication, competition rang out like a bell, no task was too big, no possibility too great. Then, suddenly one day, just like that...silence...It had all come to an end and the bottom had fallen away. There was so much and, yet, nothing left...but the remnants, the dregs, the carcass of greed, a city that once was and could have been. Now the Arks, sitting aloft over Manhattan; those colossal unfinished reminders of big arrogant dreams, the dead and dying, casualties of war, ships wrecked. My, what has become of us? |
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| Entry: Each summer season comes and leaves again, just as it arrived, like a fleeting breeze. "Next year," I say every time and every time becomes just another excuse. She sits in the yard year to year. Though sagging in the sod, the grass growing up around her, covering her majesty, still she stands proudly, flaked just as we left her- "Old Knock About" or "Sweet Maiden" waiting for her next voyage. Either way, she's ready and waiting with the patience of a saint saying sweetly, "take me to sea, dear friend, just one more time. I promise to glide as I once did...to fly with the wind...to carry you to uncharted waters. Have no fear, my love, my old trusted friend, I will not disappoint. It is not here that I should rest, but at sea." |
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| ENTRY: Steady as she goes...full, strong and unwavering. Beaten, but not defeated; easing into the quiet after a storm. The sea has settled, a glassy, cooling lake. Water lapping politely, caressingly, at the hull. |
