1958: Cornell to Boston and a Cold Drizzle

Report from The Pond:

A cold drizzle with overcast skies created a chilly feel to the day, which under ordinary circumstance might have brought feelings of a somber silence amidst the frozen  lake with melted snow on the ice covered pone.  However, the morning sunrises during the majority of January’s 21 days have been so amazing I felt our ultimate friend, The Sun, was present and continued to provide a continuity for all days. The experience of being in the captivating landscape, the incredible beauty and wonder of each sunrise as a “grounding” for the living of each day…..

Now let us continue briefly the journey of “60” years in the trenches:

Dr. Harold Case, president of Boston University, had followed through with his commitment to “go to bat for me” if I decided to apply for the Theology School at B.U and sent him my transcript.  In late Spring of 1958 I received acceptance.  In August I left Cornell for Boston.  Being in the city was what I expected.  Never was I going to live in a city.  My bias came from the great number of trips to New York City.  My parents had allowed me to take the train from New Jersey to go into The City and go up to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yankees.  Also, my mother would take me into Brooklyn to be with my grandparents.  In addition, trips to the Museum of Natural History, combined with a walk across Central Park to The Zoo were cherished adventures.  And with Dad & Mom, Don & Carol many trips to Madison Square Garden to watch the Rangers, Knicks and Ringling Brothers Circus were great adventures in fun and enchantment. But the city was too busy with people, cars , taxis, cramped and crowded place.

How was I going to survive in Boston!  A major problem and concern.  A strange happening began to bring about a change of attitude. My living space was on the top floor of the Theology School  One of the first days I was looking out the window and observed a large number of gull flying west.  Strange I thought.  Where were they going.  After several inquiries I was told there was a large pond in the city about a mile away the way a crow flies.  Very curious I set out to explore.  Driving much more than a mile along the winding streets ob Boston, I discovered the pond.  Jamaica Pond.  In many ways the centering point for my 60 years in Boston.

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