Remembering and Reflecting

I remember this scene as if it were yesterday.  Actually, it was 14 years ago. 

Annie and Kelsi visited the Coromandel Peninsula yesterday on the North Island of New Zealand. 

It was about three weeks earlier when Annie and I went there in 2003. And, from what I've seen in the photos, the Kiwis are enjoying much warmer weather than we encountered on my visit. 

As I looked at her collection of photos, a brief moment, which I had not thought about for 14 years, popped into my head.  

Some aspect of one of the photos took me back to our rental car as Annie drove through a neighborhood on the peninsula. 

As we rounded a curve, I heard the sound of a pheasant rooster.  

This happened to be during the time that Bill had gotten into raising pheasants and turning them loose once they reached adulthood.

The experience of being around those birds as they matured in their manmade roost gave me my first examples of the sounds those birds make, and, like with chickens, the rooster sound is very distinctive. 

So, to hear that same sound in far off New Zealand in the Land Down Under, I took note. 

Amazing how photographs can revive long-forgotten tidbits stuffed away in our memory banks----defintely one of the reasons I love photography. 

To say the least, the Coromandel Peninsula is beautiful, especially at this time of this particular year. 

Annie's trip and this particular calendar date also revive another poignant memory in my life and that of my family's.  

This is the date that we experienced our first family loss. It came shortly after I returned from my wonderful adventure in New Zealand. 

On this day, after more than a week of uncertainty and great concern, constant vigils at Sacred Heart Medical Center, we family members gathered around our dad as he took his last breath. 

One never forgets those days, and in not forgetting, many, many memories come to mind of the man who, along with his beloved wife Virginia, laid out the principles and values by which we live.

Most importantly:  keep your nose clean. 

I think we all still try our best to do that on a daily basis, and if nothing else, that is a great tribute to the impact of Harold Tibbs. 

I have a feeling that a few "Harold" stories will be told throughout this week as we come together again to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday and the family traditions that both of our parents instilled in us. 

So, that's all for this morning.  

Keep your nose clean.  Don't take any wooden nickels, close the gate and have a nice day.