Follow the flow of the river

The Colorado River’s head waters flow from the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. In 1956 Rhoda and I traveled through that park with Richard and Gail Kling. We stopped along the road and I used a sharp knife to cut down a small aspen tree, peeled off its bark and whittled it in two so Rhoda and I could each have a walking stick.  That is a mountain memory.  (I used to feel a little guilty about this, but now I understand that the aspen is a “problem” tree.)


Cruiser at dock waits for us

Sixty years later I visited the Grand Canyon and saw the Colorado River flowing far below.  (The Canyon  was more than 600 miles Southwest of the Park.)

A day later Nate, Kathy and I took a short cruise the Colorada River as it flowed off Bullhead City and Fort Mohave.  This was more than 200 miles from the Canyon.

The lower front of the cruiser was a bar.  The rear and upper decks had seats for passengers. Apparently, my walker assured me of first class treatment. An attendent told me it was the law.    So I was first to walk the ramp to the cruiser.  I smiled at the people who waited for me as I went ahead of them and said, “It’s the law.”  I was given a seat marked for the disabled inside the door on the first floor of the cruiser.


The view across the river

From that privileged place Nate and I could look across and out of the window to the hotels, casinos, and homes of the wealthy on the opposite side of the river.  First, however, we saw the tall palm trees. The green at the top of the palms is nourished by water that flows up from the roots and on up the trunk to the fronds at the top of the palm trees.  Have you ever heard of water flowing up? That’s what happens in palms trees.

IMG_4204Nate and I found that with my little phone/camera we could do selfies.  You can see even with this too dark photo that we were enjoying the cruise, and each other.

(WordPress does many remarkable things, but it does not yet copy color enhanced photos.)

be like trees planted
by the rivers of water
bear fruit in season

Apologies to the Psalmist


About Martin Lehman

I was born 92 years ago, the son of a Mennonite pastor and organic gardener in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. At age 10 I was baptized as a member of the Marion Mennonite Church. I own the "Old Fool" moniker because I want to walk the Jesus Way even though the world and much of the church takes me as a fool for doing so. In my life I have moved from being a young conservative to an elderly radical. I tell that story in My Faith Journey posted on my website.
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