Written to commemorate the day I ran into my childhood sweetheart at a party Some 25 years later than I had last seen her as a child

A man among men he was the greatest adventurer of all time. Managing with 5 of his men a final 800 mile sail in a open dingy over the roaring forties in the Southern Ocean. Using dead reckoning and only two sightings in over two weeks sail. Fought starvation and frostbite through the fifty foot waves and storms. To land successfully on a tiny sliver of an Island called South Georgia. Then went back and save all his men. His sail and subsequent crossing of the interior of South Georgia island on foot,was miraculous. So much so the disbelieving whalers there rescued the tiny boat from the far side of the island. Carrying it on their shoulders, as if it were the Ark of the Covenant.
Returning to England he has always been a light to men. Those who seek adventure and purpose from the daring and dignity of their lives. His efforts to not only save oneself. But to pick up and carry his comrades home to safety as well. Stories told of him from the survivors of the Scott expedition say his character was kind and conciliatory to men of all walks. One man remarked" We were starving. None had eaten anything in 5 days. Shackleton forced his last biscuit upon me. Even though he too was starving. A man can't imagine the magnanimity of such a act, who's never experienced it. But I shall never forget it!" He was to this man at least one of the greatest men who ever drew breath.
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Article London Times : Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages. Bitter cold. Long months of complete darkness. Constant danger. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success.
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Can anyone know what will come
when the wind blows us cold and gale
Or what direction it be from
when finally we set our sail

My darkest days were comforted by the poetry they inspired.
One of my favorite poems is this one. It tells the tale of how pain is so relative to our age and circumstance
Softened by Time's consummate plush,
by Emily Dickinson

Softened by Time's consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood's citadel
And undermined the years.

Bisected now, by bleaker griefs,
We envy the despair
That devastated childhood's realm,
So easy to repair.

Strange it is to find out too late.That the ones we love, loved us as well. And in looking at us saw themselves. When I was young everyone over 30 was an idiot.The older I got. The smarter they seemed. And the more foolish I felt.
So it is no surprise to me as a father of my own.That my children think me a bit off as well.
There are as I see it two fields of thought on this subject.My own father a strict task master left me to enter the adult world alone and afraid. It has always been my own contention that a child should come from a loving safe secure beginning. In so doing we bestow upon them the chance to enter the world unafraid. While the other way makes us struggle and eventually results in coming to the same conclusion. We have a much better time of it. Personally I think it better that a child have a foundation.

Tate

For Becky my beloved Wife
Her spark for life lit the fire in my mind.