Fishing for Life: Another Hill to Climb

May 31, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I’m still making an effort to fish for life, and that “fishing” so far has centered mostly around climbing hills. Today was no exception.

High on a hill over looking town are the ruins of a once magnificent house.

The house is on fenced private property, so a couple of days ago I tried to climb up the unfenced side of the hill. Being more of a hiker than a rockclimber, I didn’t quite make it. (Visions not of sugar plums but broken limbs danced in my head.)

Determined not to give up, today I found a break in the fence, and quite daringly climbed up the steep old driveway, but it turns out half the town uses that old road as a hiking trail, so all that derring-do went to waste.

Unfortunately, the ruins, while still fascinating, weren’t quite as attractive close up. Graffiti? Why? Doesn’t anyone have a sense of awe anymore? Is it necessary to desecrate everything? Apparently so.

Still, the house was fascinating, and the views magnificent. The hills in the background are my “backyard” where I go walking every day.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Follow Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

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The Far Side of the Mountain

May 30, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I still haven’t turned off my computer for an entire day, but I have been curtailing my online activities in an effort to live more of an offline life.

A couple of days ago, I went on a quest to find a trail to the top of a local mountain, but I never even got to the other side of the mountain to find the trail. Distances are deceiving in the desert, since there is no human-made structure for comparison, and it took me two hours just to get to the mountain and swing around it a bit. I had to save enough energy, strength, and water to get back, otherwise I would have made it around the mountain.

Bell Mountain. Elevation 3848 ft. The 30120th highest peak in the US.

Bell Mountain. Elevation 3848 ft. The 30120th highest peak in the US.

Today I did the next best thing — drove to the other side of the mountain and tried to hike up the far side. Did well for a while, but the steepness defeated me — even on flange of the mountain, there were places where it sloped greater than 45 degrees. (It’s the steepness that makes it a mountain, apparently. Otherwise it would be just another desert knoll.)

Getting closer!

Still, it was an interesting trip, and maybe I’ll try again someday.

The world below.

The world below.

I didn’t have any great insights, just the same one any intrepid mountain climber has about halfway up a steep slope: What goes up, must come down.

My car, far below, circled in red, near a water tank.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Follow Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

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As Busy as a . . .?

May 5, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Awww, you guessed!

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019a

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

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Deep Thought. Or Not

May 4, 2013 — Pat Bertram

When you’re looking at the world, don’t forget, the world is looking back at you.

looking1

looking2

looking3

looking4

looking5

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

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Life is a Great Big Canvas…

April 13, 2013 — Pat Bertram

The words might not have originated with me, but the photo art is mine. I was trying to cheat and do a quick post since it’s so late, but this little bit of fluff took longer than a written post would have done!

Life is a great big canvas

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+

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My Star-Studded Weekend

April 1, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I had a phenomenal time in Seattle this weekend. And such gorgeous weather! (I don’t know whether the bluest skies are in Seattle, but they sure were blue when I was there.)

seattle

Today I woke feeling like Cinderella after the ball. What? No more champagne? No more limousine? No more Shen Yun? No more ferris wheels and fish feasts? Ah, but I have something Cinderella never had . . . photos!!

It truly was a star-studded weekend.

Stars

And the star was . . . me! Here I am decked out in sparkles and party eyes, ready to go to Shen Yun.

But wait! I have to tell you about the first day. My sister and brother-in-law met me right outside the secure area at the airport, then took me to a restaurant on the Puget Sound waterfront where we feasted on crab, shrimp, mussels, corn, sausage, potatoes, and probably a few other things.

Next, we rode a ferris wheel on the pier . . .

Ferris Wheel

and could see . . . well, not exactly forever, but almost.

puget sound

To keep with the theme of going round and round, we went on a carousel at a nearby arcade.  This was my trusty steed.

carousel

Before we left the waterfront, we stopped by Pikes Place Market. It was late, and most vendors had packed up, but the flower sellers were still there. Flowers, flowers, everywhere.

daffodils

The next day, we had a liesurely breakfast (a strata prepared by a professonal chef — my brother-in-law!) then dressed in our finery and waited for the limo my sister hired to take us to see Shen Yun. Often during this past trying year, I’ve found comfort telling myself that I am where I am supposed to be. This little affirmation takes on a whole new meaning when one is driving around in a limousine drinking champagne!

And Shen Yun, the whole point of this excursion? I was afraid that after that first wonderful day of playing in the sun, the show would be anticlimactic, but it was fantastic. Truly a delight for the eyes and the ears. As the program explained, Shen means “divine” and Yun refers to a dancer’s style and the meaning behind his or her movements, so Shen Yun is about “the grace, compassion, and sublime beauty of heavenly realms that are shown through the subtlest expessions and gestures of the dancers.” Truly an experience.

After the show, we went to a fancy restaurant right on the water. (I had Pacific Northwest Chowder and Dungeness Crab Cakes.)  While enjoying a touch of desert (lemon semifreddo) we watched the sun set on a perfect day.

There were many gifts and blessings arising from this weekend, including a closer connection to my sister (and brother-in-law), a realization that yes, someday I can be happy again, and the crowning glory of the stay — a new chapeau.

Pat Bertram

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+

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More Incendiary Photos

February 4, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday I posted a couple of photos from my father’s ninety-sixth birthday party, and here are a couple more where he looks very wizardly. (The second one is actually the unretouched photo I posted for the benefit of Rami Ungar, whom I sure you know through his comments on this blog.)

In retrospect, perhaps lighting 96 candles wasn’t the smartest thing to do. One brother who didn’t make it to the party emailed me and asked if everyone behaved. I responded, “You mean except for the part where we lit 96 candles?” He replied, “No EMTs were called, so that doesn’t count.”

What does count, though is that it was an adventure. My life is too staid and going nowhere fast, so I decided to go in pursuit of 101 adventures. Until the candle incident, the number of adventures I’ve had so far this year is zilch. Zero. Nada. So, now I have only 100 more to go. (The resolve for 101 adventures wasn’t really a New Year’s resolution, though the resolution was made on New Year’s Day, because there is no way I can fit that many adventures into a single year and still look after my father.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+

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96 Candlepower — Don’t Try This Without a Fire Extinguisher Handy!

February 3, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday was my father’s ninety-sixth birthday. I never had any intention of putting candles on the cake, but my brother brought four boxes of 24 birthday candles which added up to exactly 96, so it seemed a fitting sign. Besides, there didn’t seem to be very many of them when they were sitting side by side so innocuously in the boxes. Luckily (or maybe unluckily) we had fireplace matches, which are about eight inches long, otherwise those candles would never have been lit. Still, it took four people to light the candes before they burnt out.

Once the candles were lit, they became a single flame, so I never did get to see ninety-six tiny candle flames cheerfully paying homage to all those years.

As my brother said, “In retrospect, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” Next year, we’ll get the candles with numbers, but when my father hits 100, we’ll go for 100-candlepower, but maybe a bigger cake  . . .

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+

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Wishing you a peaceful day

December 25, 2012 — Pat Bertram

Wishing you a peaceful day

and all your troubles far away.

Snowy peaks

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A Photo is Not a Living Person (Though Sometimes I Wish it Were)

September 4, 2012 — Pat Bertram

I only have two photos of my deceased life mate/soul mate. It seems odd in this age of electronic imagery to have so few pictures, but there was no reason to take photos. We were almost always together. We remembered the things we did, the events we participated in, the conversations we had. A camera would have only been an intrusion in our lives.

One of the photos I have is fifteen years old, a formal photo of the two of us, taken at my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration. After he died, his mother wanted a picture, so I took a photo of the picture, cropped me out, and sent it to her. That image of him sat in my computer for over a year without my looking at it. I simply could not bear the pictorial reminder that he was forever gone from this earth. (To be honest, I still cannot bear the thought of his being gone.) Even worse, it didn’t look like him, not the way he looked toward the end (though it had been a perfect likeness at one time), so I barely recognized him. I didn’t want to supplant what images I had of him in my mind with a photo.

About a year ago, however, my memories of him started to fade, and I desperately needed to see him, so I printed out the photo. Somehow, the photo makes him look happy and radiant, as if he were smiling at something only he knew. (Which is odd, because he does not look at all like that in the original photo.)

The other photo of him is from a few months before we died. (I can’t believe I made such a typo, but I’m leaving it in because in so many ways, “we” did die.) I’d just come back from a trip in a rental car, and since a rental car is a terrible thing to waste, we took a rutted and sparsely graveled road to the north rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. (Although we lived only twenty miles from there, neither of our old cars could safely make the trip.) I didn’t realize I had a photo of him until months after his death when I went through the pictures I took of the canyon. (By then, I often took photos — seeing life through the lens of a camera was the only way I could deal with his dying and then with his death.) He is standing at the rim of the Black Canyon, his back to me, staring out at . . . eternity? I was able to look at this photo occasionally, for some reason — maybe because I was able to “see” him the way I remembered him.

There is a third photo, one his oncologist took. I’d considered asking for it, but I remember how appalled my mate was when he saw it — he looked old and haggard and gray and very, very ill. I didn’t want to remember him as such, so I never followed through with my inclination.

A few months ago, I put away the photos. I went from not wanting to look at the pictures, to drawing comfort from them, to not wanting the constant reminder he was dead. But yesterday, I set the photos out again. I needed the feeling of connection, no matter how ephemeral. I don’t know how long it will be before I can’t stand to look at them again — perhaps only a day or two. As much as I need to feel connected to him (sometimes that lack of connection is like an itch deep inside), the truth is, a photo is not a living person, and I cannot feel connected to an image on a piece of paper.

Posted in culture, grief, life, photography, relationships. Tags: , , , . 5 Comments »
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