Tuesday, July 5, 2016
One night we were out looking for the bartender/owner of Targy’s – he took a busman’s holiday by visiting a bar in Ballard – another low dive. Hjelmer wasn’t there, but Fr. Kim and I sat, enchanted by old patrons of a new bar. There was a drunken Irish merchant marine who was so moved by our presence. He quoted Yeats to us, then followed Father Kim and me out of the bar. On the sidewalk, he fell on Fr. Kim’s neck and wept. Father Kim held him and breathed a prayer in the sailor’s ear. I will never forget the moment.
O kinsmen of the Three in One,
O kinsmen, bless the hands that play.
The notes they waken shall live on
When all this heavy history's done;
Our hands, our hands must ebb away.
W.B. Yeats
Rest in Peace. Prayers for the good people of Church of the Ascension and the entire Forman family, for the Living Presence to sustain, strengthen and guide.
