HEAD(hed), (n.) 1. the top part of the human body or the front part of an animal where the eyes, nose, east and mouth are. "Your brain is in your head." DIBS(dibz), (n.) 2. a thick, sweet syrup made in countries of the East, especially the Middle East, from grape juice or dates. [Arabic "debs"]--World Book Dictionary, 1976.
One probably wonders what I’m working on. As an Independent Scholar, as I am not attached to a University, I am writing a commentary on the first book of a personal journal written by a 2nd Century Roman Emperor. In that book he lists 16 names and describes what each person contributed to his life. That’s the short version. I’ve covered the first 8 so far and hit a wall. Now I’ve gone back and am editing Chapters 1-3 to keep my mojo going. Not sure when I’ll be done but hopefully by years’ end. I already have another project lined up.
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The Biggest Challenge Yet
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"After the April 9, 1942, U.S. surrender of the Bataan Peninsula on the main Philippine island of Luzon to the Japanese during World War II (1939-45), the approximately 75,000 Filipino and American troops on Bataan were forced to make an arduous 65-mile march to prison camps. The marchers made the trek in intense heat and were subjected to harsh treatment by Japanese guards. Thousands perished in what became known as the Bataan Death March." (History.com)
Every year, the march is remembered in a high desert memorial event held in White Sands, New Mexico honoring our soldiers who defended our country in the Philippines during World War II. The standard courses is marathon length (26 miles) and may be completed with or without a 35 pound ruck by military personnel and civilians. This year marks the 75 year anniversary of the event and was attended by survivors of the ordeal.
Here in South Carolina, I've participated in two memorial runs honoring fallen soldiers as well as runs remembering those who lost their lives on 9/11. My fitness regimen includes "Hero WODs" which are workouts designed to remember those who gave their lives fighting for our freedoms. "Murph" is coming up this Memorial Day.
Completing a memorial Bataan Death March at White Sands would be an incredible experience and perhaps my biggest challenge yet. Climbing the highest peak on the Eastern seaboard (Mt. Mitchell, NC) was extreme in its own right, but a trek in the high desert with a mind to remember men who endured such brutality in fighting for our country--these men deserve to be remembered.
This event is on my "list."
Not sure I would call it my "bucket list"--not exactly a "wish list" either, but it's on a list.
I'm nearly finished reading Joan Didion's collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. The book was discovered through another book I was reading, Jon Krakauer's Eiger Dreams . If Jon felt this book was good enough to pack along on a mountain climbing expedition, then I'm interested. Took me three tries, but I finally found my copy on Amazon. One of the best book buys I've made. Joan selected the title of this book from William Butler Yeats' classic poem, Second Coming . The book title is shared with one of her larger essays, a record of encounters with people in the 1960's drug culture. Didion's book is divided into three distinct parts: "Life Styles In The Golden Land," a collection of articles capturing the California experience of the 1960's; "Personals," a few of essays of the first-hand nature; and "Seven Places Of The Mind", some thoughts about those parts of California that are now long gone. One essay...
“VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well— She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What’s done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask “Do I live, am I dead?” Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped...
