A Lake Erie cruise upon the Good Time III, venturing through the Flats upon the Cuyahoga River—my AA connection for the day. I was running late due to lengthy prayers after noon Mass at St Paul Shrine. The prayers are now led by Shirley, an oriental woman exercising a profound contemplative life. We are extending to over an hour and a half a session. Time flies within authentic immersion before the Eucharist. My schedule will change after this week. Unexpectedly, I am scheduled for third shift, starting at 9:00 PM and ending at 7:30 AM, working Sunday through Wednesday. I will have Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off, able to make the Saturday after-Mass Perpetual Adoration prayers routine. Due to the prolonged prayers, I barely made launch for the Good Time III cruise. I was unable to print out or attain a ticket, hoping phone information would be enough to provide entrance. I expressed my concern to the women waiting in line in front of me, three attractively and elegantly dressed elderly African-American women. They were prepared for a good time, excited, and spreading a joyous vibe. Upon hearing my nervous concern, one of them told me to think positive. Another smiled at me, reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a ticket. She told me not to sweat it. She handed me the ticket, explaining a woman in their circle canceled. It made everything easy. Once upon the ship, my isolationist nature took over. I knew no one, my sponsor having to work. None of Paul and his gang were in attendance. I just couldn’t get myself to socialize. Everyone was having so much fun, it was no problem to remain alone, observing the sights, taking photos with my phone. None of the photos were exceptional. Upon boarding the cruise ship, a woman, Mary, introduced herself, shaking my hand. I sat upon the second deck, exposed to the chilly breeze, cherishing the opportunity to contemplate a stormy sky and the breadth of the waters of Lake Erie. The lead spoke on the first floor, yet his words were broadcast to our floor. His message resonated. From nowhere a man approached, extending his hand, asking if I was OK. I smiled and responded “I am fine.” He said, “Your being very quiet.” We comfortably eased into conversation. The man was not in the program. His wife was. It seemed what he really wanted to talk about was his son. His twenty-one-year-old son was released from detox, drugs and alcohol, in August and was now staying at a sober house. He was not satisfied with their communication. His son only asked for money, remaining distant—aloof and mysterious. The man was a retired Willoughby fireman. After lengthy conversation we struck upon Catholicism. He and his wife were devoted to the Latin Mass, active with a Church in Bedford, St Pius X, that day coming from a Latin Mass at Immaculate Conception near St Paul Shrine. Departing the cruise, we met up with his wife. It was Mary, the woman who shook my hand. Then a moment, or two, startled. Lonnie, the conversationalist retired fireman, said to his wife, “You were right. He is Catholic.” Mary smiled at me, informing me she sent her husband over to talk with me. She did not like me sitting alone. Moments come, and moments go. Within their passing Lord, may I always comprehend Your call to eternal peace.
The close-up on the phone-camera could not pull off an auto-focus on the Cleveland downtown skyline. The produced image I found enticing; Impressionistic, accurate in the depiction of light and the hinting of things enigmatic.
Sky, water, and land.
Sky, water, and a runway.
Cuyahoga
