Gayla's abode.

Visitors to Minneapolis brace themselves for a hot day, as they enjoy the neighbourhood.

Ephrom was stopping by the Powderhorn post office.

Herb Pick, my wife's father, passed away last week.
Sunday was his memorial. These are her words, spoken to say good bye.

He was a father, a teacher, a sailer. A vibrant human being.

I held more familiar words at the memorial, which I share below.

Good bye Herb.

...
Crossing the Bar, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,
and one clear call for me!
and may there be no moaning of the bar
when I set out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
too full for sound and foam
when that which drew from out the boundless deep
turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell
and after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
when I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.