(no subject)
The chaotic turns of fate, nature, and human choice have a twisted way of penning a beautiful sentence punctuated at the end by a bold dot of blood.
We are in Albuquerque, now for the second time in as many weeks. After our whirlwind drive down the I-84 corridor last Friday, we enjoyed a four day stint amongst some of our Duke City friends and our families before stopping over in Vegas and experiencing the best single night there to date. This past Saturday, we walked the Bavarian cobblestones of Leavenworth Washington with Christina's parents Janet and Vito, and watched the caddy fisherman toss swinging cods across the Pike Market. We ate at Brouwers off Fremont, made fun of the huge Vladamir Lenin statue, and parted ways. It was the best vacation I've had in years.
On a Thursday morning, 2 hours out of Fairbanks Alaska, Christina's parents rode in the back of a converted school bus as part of their much-anticipated Alaskan Outdoors Adventure Tour and precursor to an Arctic cruise. Janet passed the time cat napping, and woke up to Vito making a silly snide comment about her spurts of shut-eye. She turned back, and he lay his head on her shoulder. She asked him if he was taking his turn napping; no response. Janet turned to look at him. His eyes were blankly open, he didn't move again.
Vito and Janet Capobianco lived the American Dream. Arriving in New Mexico with nothing, they built a close-knit empire of family and friends in the Duke City, finally elevating themselves amongst the business elite with a forgotten policy of sweat, sacrifice, and love. In his 59 years, Vito lived the life of many more than one common man. He was a Brooklyn cop, a teacher, a popular boss, and dad, and a grandfather. His life proffers imagery of that greatest destiny offered to those Americans long ago who came as huddle passes, tire and poor, seeking that legendary golden door. If there is on tragedy in this man's passing, it would certainly that his death placed another great crack in the mould of a generation of steel that can no longer be re-cast.
And yet, for Vito and Janet, despite the status quo... they lived, and they loved. Every step up the teetering ladder of life met their feet with determination, vigor, and hope. For themselves, their families, and the thousands that have only dreamed of what they possessed and will continue posses until God reunites them once more- "All you need is love".
Tonight I sit alone in a spare bedroom, Vito's cameras in a semi circle around me. Trying to sort it out, trying to organize. Images of joy not yet 48 hours old. Text messages. Facebook comments. Emails. A cell phone rings. Death is as digital as these memories left behind on flash cards and hard drives, in hearts and minds.
The last photo- a peaceful Alaskan river, whispy gray clouds amongst green trees. Clouds hiding the angels preparing to show the way for one more.
"You and me have seen everything to see, from Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of our shoes all all worn down-the time for sleep is now,
But there's nothing to cry about, for we'll hold each other soon,
In the blackest of rooms."
We are in Albuquerque, now for the second time in as many weeks. After our whirlwind drive down the I-84 corridor last Friday, we enjoyed a four day stint amongst some of our Duke City friends and our families before stopping over in Vegas and experiencing the best single night there to date. This past Saturday, we walked the Bavarian cobblestones of Leavenworth Washington with Christina's parents Janet and Vito, and watched the caddy fisherman toss swinging cods across the Pike Market. We ate at Brouwers off Fremont, made fun of the huge Vladamir Lenin statue, and parted ways. It was the best vacation I've had in years.
On a Thursday morning, 2 hours out of Fairbanks Alaska, Christina's parents rode in the back of a converted school bus as part of their much-anticipated Alaskan Outdoors Adventure Tour and precursor to an Arctic cruise. Janet passed the time cat napping, and woke up to Vito making a silly snide comment about her spurts of shut-eye. She turned back, and he lay his head on her shoulder. She asked him if he was taking his turn napping; no response. Janet turned to look at him. His eyes were blankly open, he didn't move again.
Vito and Janet Capobianco lived the American Dream. Arriving in New Mexico with nothing, they built a close-knit empire of family and friends in the Duke City, finally elevating themselves amongst the business elite with a forgotten policy of sweat, sacrifice, and love. In his 59 years, Vito lived the life of many more than one common man. He was a Brooklyn cop, a teacher, a popular boss, and dad, and a grandfather. His life proffers imagery of that greatest destiny offered to those Americans long ago who came as huddle passes, tire and poor, seeking that legendary golden door. If there is on tragedy in this man's passing, it would certainly that his death placed another great crack in the mould of a generation of steel that can no longer be re-cast.
And yet, for Vito and Janet, despite the status quo... they lived, and they loved. Every step up the teetering ladder of life met their feet with determination, vigor, and hope. For themselves, their families, and the thousands that have only dreamed of what they possessed and will continue posses until God reunites them once more- "All you need is love".
Tonight I sit alone in a spare bedroom, Vito's cameras in a semi circle around me. Trying to sort it out, trying to organize. Images of joy not yet 48 hours old. Text messages. Facebook comments. Emails. A cell phone rings. Death is as digital as these memories left behind on flash cards and hard drives, in hearts and minds.
The last photo- a peaceful Alaskan river, whispy gray clouds amongst green trees. Clouds hiding the angels preparing to show the way for one more.
"You and me have seen everything to see, from Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of our shoes all all worn down-the time for sleep is now,
But there's nothing to cry about, for we'll hold each other soon,
In the blackest of rooms."