Author: dcstecker

Pre-Dawn Thoughts of My Father at the Saint Augustine Lighthouse

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Here, at the lighthouse pier, my rod rests on the railing and for a moment my line slices open the moving water below. It is early morning, not far past six, still too soon see the sun, but the dock to my north is now visible in the charcoal light, and the lighthouse now reveals its stripes.

In the summer of 1962, my father imagined aloud this life I now live, next to this very lighthouse and not far from our ‘57 Chevy with New York plates, though too far from ever reaching his own retirement.

I often say these days that I am living my father’s dream, though right at this moment I cannot help but wonder whether I am dreaming of my father, or for him, or (could it be?) my father is dreaming of me.

Sunday Hymn

Sunday Hymn

I am grateful for this downpour
That jabbers in the birdbath
And clangs inside the drainpipe
Samba agogô outside my door.

I am grateful for this thunder crashing,
Booming one-two-three-four fast,
And this heaven-cracking lightning,
Dance-floor-strobe-light flashing.

I am grateful for this wife of mine
Ensconced in the couch facing me
Engrossed in fifteen across,
Sanguinary or sanguinity.

I am grateful for this old dog
Who curled up at my feet,
Seeking safety there from the tempest
Then slipping back to sleep.

I am grateful for these Sunday funnies,
My Kindle’s New York Times,
And iced coffee I sip occasionally
On this peacefully stormy Sabbath of mine.

Freedom’s Price

FreedomsPrice

Surrendering to the schooner’s inability to tack against the increasing strength of the northeast wind in the narrow channel, the captain told his first mate to turnabout just south of Porpoise Point and return to St. Augustine’s harbor. Jacques, overhearing the order, glass of wine in hand and chatting amiably with fellow passengers, silently began his calculations for jumping ship.