June 20, 1926 ~ At sea
At Captain Birk’s invitation we again avoided the dancing and joined him on deck. We passed some of our steamer chair neighbors on the upper deck but passed by them without speaking. The only illumination was the moon and we weren’t sure that they recognized us. A number of people promenaded within a few feet of where we sat so we were undoubtedly seen but my position was such that I couldn’t see who they were without turning my head. The captain was seated in a folding armchair which was tilted against the wall, and suddenly, without warning, it collapsed and down went captain, chair and all. Being well-bred he said not a word, although he admitted he felt like swearing.
Examination showed that one of the legs broke, so he calmly walked to the rail and dropped it overboard. It must have been startling to the people on the lower decks to see a rather bulky chair take a dive out of the air. It was almost 1 o’clock before he regretfully agreed to our departure. He had suggested that we make a wish each of the moon and he would do all he could to make it come true, however we couldn’t think of good ones. I really believe he would have gone out of his way to do it if at all possible. Anne objected to the record “Valencia,” it was played so much, saying she would like to smash it. The captain strode forward immediately to break it but found it belonged to one of the passengers so had to give up the idea.
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July 2023 ~ Isla de Pascua
I’ve held on to the idea of Easter Island for almost 30 years. Something about it drew me in as far back as elementary school. Maybe it was the weird sculptural art, or the fact that it’s way the heck out there and not many people would think to go. As far-fetched as it seemed to travel there, it was never merely a lofty idea to me. It was deeper than that. Soul-level kind of stuff, if you will. I knew I would go. I had to visit before my time on this Earth was up.
I liked knowing that Easter Island was there, waiting for me when I was ready. It was comforting to know that if and when I had enough money or time I could just go. And by “just go” I mean multiple flights and a few days later I could arrive and meet my long-lost friend. I liked hanging on to that dream, of just going.
But what do I do now that my dream has become a reality? It seems too important of a place, of an idea, to keep it as a mere check off of a proverbial bucket list. That makes it seem so insignificant.
Given what it takes to get there, people treat it as a once-in-a-lifetime destination. It didn’t dawn on me, ever, that I could go again. Yet so many people asked us that exact question when we recounted our trip. “So when are you going back?” I truthfully don’t think anyone has ever asked me about whether or not I’d return somewhere as I was telling them about where I’d just been. Maybe there’s something to that. I smile knowing I can continue to live with that dream in my heart.
LETTERS FROM MONSTER 