Rest in Peace Grandma Bert

Last Sunday night (March 7^th) about 10:30pm Denver time, Bertha Buckner (Bert to her friends and family) passed away at the age of 85. Survived by her three children, three grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, she will be missed by all. She lived a long and good life, sharing most of it with her beloved husband Jerry (Buck) Buckner (who also departed this world six years ago). Bert grew up in North Dakota but made her home in Arvada, Colorado where she raised her family, tended her gardens and kept herself busy as her farming life background had taught her. In between ironing for others and babysitting grandchildren and friend’s children she also quilted and canned foods. Never idle to the last she taught the lesson of hard work. Now her work on this plane is finished and she goes to be reunited with Buck in the world beyond. Rest now and know that you loved and were loved in return.

Chasing Windmills

For those of you who have followed my blog for a while you will notice the sudden and rather drastic cosmetic makeover. This last year and a half has been quite sparse on postings, therefore I believe an overhaul of content and style was called for to rejuvenate the site. The first and perhaps biggest change is the title of said blog site. Over the course of my time in Northern Ireland I have been following a path not so much of adventure and discovery of the outside world as much as an exploration of the mind, both mine and those around me. I don’t mean to suggest I have been psychoanalyzing myself and others, only that I have been constantly pondering what it is within humanity that makes us fight, flee and in general act the way we do. This propensity towards the philosophical has led me to modify the original purpose of this blog. Rather than it being a log of my travels and new experiences (which sadly seem to be declining in recent years), I will instead expound upon the larger questions swirling inside my mind, topics ranging from the banal “why don’t people in Derry share the sidewalk?” to the more abstract discussions of identity formation (the very topic of my master’s dissertation here). Perchance interspersed within these, I hope, sagacious thoughts there might slip in a few humorous travel stories. However, for now “The Next Great Adventure” will be superseded by finding the silver lining in life, those moments of light within the vast dark. Or as Don Quixote would have us do – chasing windmills.

Don Quixote: Dost thou not see?

Sancho Panza: What?

Don Quixote: A monstrous giant of infamous repute! Whom I intend to encounter.

Sancho Panza: It's a windmill.

Don Quixote: A giant. Canst thou not see... the four great arms whirling at his back?

Sancho Panza: A giant?

Don Quixote: Exactly.