The Daily Poem

IT'S RAINING IN SAN JUAN

Our bird comes down like cotton sheets,

And spreads us out on fresh washed streets,

Where stippled puddles catch the light;

It's raining in San Juan tonight.

The wind comes in off midnight waves,

And somewhere deep our secret raves,

"Come out come out beyond your fright,

It's raining in San Juan tonight."

This late night city takes us in,

A place our stories can begin.

Through broken clouds the moon is bright;

It's raining in San Juan tonight.

D. Edgar Lamp

The Daily Poem - 358

Kyrielle

San Juan, Puerto Rico

Lat: 18.47, Long: -66.11

JOURNAL: Comfort Inn San Juan

Woke up at 0530 with a renewed sense of hope and expectation.  Things will be OK with Stephanie.  We talked last night again.  We've agreed to make this year of travel, a year of getting to know each other better via e-mail.  I'm looking forward to it.  Fatherhood is a journey began in youth before one knows himself, and ends when breathing his last breath into his child's ear, he whispers, "Who are you?"  Life is a continual discovery.  Sting is singing in the background, "Giant steps are what you take walking on the moon..."  The moon is no further away than the earth.  Each person walking through this Starbucks door with one eye open on the day is a moon to me, orbiting in space nearby, and yet so mysterious and untouchable.  Today begins the Caribbean leg of our planetary exploration.  May it not be about the islands of sand and stone, but about the people of of flesh and bone.

Dear Father, my Father, here in the morning, music in my ear, coffee on my tongue, children on my mind, hope within my heart, tears on the edge of crying, laughter waiting in line, love like a well in my soul, boyhood so close at hand, death around the corner, a strange world awaits, go with me, go with me, stay close, hold my hand as I cross the sea, whisper in my ear, "I know you, my son.", carry me when I'm tired, set me free to run and play, show me the work you would have me do, let me rest my head on your shoulder at the end of day, safe in your arms, go with me, go with me, stay close, my life is yours, I am your man as I've told you every day since I became a man, go with me, teach me your way, open my eyes, show me why you love everyone so much, teach me to love, I go with you, we go together, I can't wait, let's go!

Thirty-nine thousand feet. That’s about as high as any(non-astronaut)body gets. That’s ten thousand feet higher than the summit of Mt. Everest. All I see out my window is floor scattered with cotton. But wait, what is that there in gaps between the clouds. Land. With a bit of white along the coast. Probably the Bahamas. We’ve just left Miami bound for San Juan, Puerto Rico. My guess is we won’t be flying over Cuban airspace. They’ve reserved that for cigar smoke, I think. But there’s the Bahamas, the Turks and Caicos Islands, Haiti and the Dominican Republic that we’ll have to fly over on our way to Puerto Rico. It’s only a 2-hour-2-minute flight. Finally we have left our beloved homeland bound for parts unknown. In Miami I left messages for each of the girls. Talked to Suzanne briefly. She said, “Well, you’re off on the grand tour!” The grand tour is right. She wished me bon voyage. It’s strange how an ex-wife stays in your life, out of sight, buried deep in the background, but there, always there. A vague memory of an old life. I was just reading an article in the American Way in flight magazine about memory retrieval. In it they were talking about PTSD victims who have been helped with the use of Propranolol to go back and relive the stress event over and over. Slowly the fear subsides, the fight or flight response fades, and they are able to recall the details of the event without the emotional stress reaction. That’s how it is with divorce, I think. Slowly over the years, the memories remain like an old family video with all the familiar faces and places, but the intense emotion has gone out of it. The old arguments and grievances have somehow been answered. Life does go on.

It was a 39-minute flight from Orlando to Miami. A quick arcing flight up to 22,000 feet and down again. We were expecting to see David & Joanie in Miami, thinking this was the flight that we were going to share, but perhaps it’s the flight from Puerto Rico to St. Lucia. Rashawna will be the first one in PR. Her flight landed at 1100 this morning. The captain just announced that it well be 1 hour and 20 minutes until we land. The flight is smooth and the flight attendants are coming down the aisle with beverages. Mimi is dozing, watching the in-flight movie without headphones. To the east out my window I see a big flat island with a single landing strip on it. Otherwise nothing but blue ocean dotted with clouds. The sun is setting. Looks like a full moon. The ladies at check-in in Orlando, when they found out we were going to PR, said we had to go to the full moon celebration. We’ll look for it. It will be 2000 when we arrive. We will cross another time zone as we descend into PR. That’ll be PST plus four. Downloaded Nicholas Sparks’ book Three Weeks With My Brother to my Droid. Read the intro and started chapter one. Should be apropos for the next couple weeks.

In an hour I will be setting foot on foreign soil. I haven’t been out of the country since before my Dad died. My last trip was his last trip. We spent three weeks in Costa Rica, the summer of 1998. Now nearly 13 years later, I’m heading down to the Caribbean Islands. How fitting. This was to have been his last trip. We were going to visit three Caribbean islands, taking his total Country Count to an even 100. He would have been a full-fledged member of the Traveler’s Century Club (TCC). He was going to take both Kimberly and me. Three generations, three countries, one glorious celebration of world travel. We were set to go in October. But it would never be. He died on September 28, 1998. So today I set foot in the Caribbean without him beside me, but with him in spirit. I hope to make 100 countries on this round the world journey. It may be difficult because we’re planning on visiting several European countries that we’ve been to before. But, who knows. Let’s say I’m at 40 now. Our preliminary list calls for 70 countries. If I overlap 10 countries in Europe, I may still make it. Maybe I’ll get to sneak in a few extras. Besides, TCC counts isolated geographical regions like Alaska, Hawaii, Easter Island and such as separate countries. It’ll be fun to see what happens. Maybe we’ll fall in love with one beautiful place, meet some great people and settle in for a month. Our itinerary is very loose. I hope we can keep it that way. My Dad would never have struck out with such few plans. But that’s how we’re different. As I get older I see the ways in which I’m like my Dad, and it makes me feel good, as if he is inside me peeking out, expressing his genetic code through me. I also see how I’m different. By and large, I like the ways I’m different.

The flight attendant came by and I ordered a Cape Cod. The guy two seats up had been rude and obnoxious.

“Debit or credit?” he asked

“Credit, please.”

He swiped my card through his handheld machine and handed me my receipt.

“Could I get some cash back?” I asked mock seriously.

He looked up, about to answer, and seeing the chuckle in my face said, “Sure. Here’s your cash back.” And handed me a second little bottle of Absolut Vodka. I grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Without a plan of formal attack, we had together smacked down the surly vibe from seat 28C and returned to humanity. Cheers!

My Dad loved to travel and so do I. My Dad loved books, and so do I. My Dad loved to read…well, I haven’t read one-tenth of the books he read. But like my Dad I’d like to write a book someday. Perhaps this will be the beginning. My window is dark. Soon the plane will tip it’s nose toward land, and the Caribbean leg of our journey will begin.

David met us at the airport in a red Nissan Sentra and took us over to the Comfort Inn.  Rashawna was there in the lobby to greet us.  There was a mix-up with the rooms and so David & Joanie got rooms over at the Radisson.  We agreed to meet up after breakfast at 0900.  D&J will pick us up.

Nora, the nice lady at the front desk referred us to Orosco's Restaurant for dinner.  So Rashawna, Mimi & I walked to the restaurant.  After dinner we walked down to the beach for a few minutes and then back to the hotel.  It's been raining on and off.  The streets are wet.  The air is humid.  The Coqui frogs are singing loudly in the trees like birds.  It's an amazing sound.  Evidently these frogs live only in Puerto Rico.  The walls of our room are very thin.  We can hear the people talking next door.

~ The Daily Poet