Walking in the Wind

I had to get out into the wind today. I felt trapped in my crooked little row house and headed for the river, the wild weather whirling around me, scouring the air,
storm clouds heavy overhead.

A few kindred souls were at Penn Treaty Park. A special kind of person loves the freeing burst of wind, nature finding its way up the city streets. An Indian couple- not the Lenape with whom William Penn tried to establish good relations- agreed this was "wonderful weather." The man said he grew up by a river, asked about industries that used to be along the Delaware. The wide expanse of water was choppy, a cormorant flew low over the waves. A black man with some missing front teeth came along and began conversing about how it must have been for the early explorers sailing up the river into unknown territory. "I'm a history buff", he said and talked about George Washington and Bartram's Garden and the bravery of early Americans. I spoke of my German ancestors who came to Pennsylvania in the 1700's as tenant farmers. I didn't mention that Penn's sons gave them land in Berks County where they had to fight the Indians to keep their land. I didn't ask, though I wanted to, if he knew anything about his ancestors, where his family had been. There must have been some courage and survival there.

I went striding on in the wind and thought about my father, how he had to "get out" after a week of teaching, the joy he had in the natural world and the strength of his body. I think of him a lot as I age, as I wonder when I may lose this freedom. Of all people to be trapped by Parkinson's, it was especially cruel for him. I am the age he was when he was diagnosed. I am also retired from a longtime job and looking to fulfill neglected parts of my life. It's hard not to be fearful. I take him with me on my walks and hikes and try to remember the joyful look on his face when we took off across a field and into the autumn woods and off the path into somewhere unknown.