Friday Field Trip

a poem from Ireland's Cliffs of Moher

Welcome to our first Friday Field Trip, a second serving of words and water for paid subscribers to Wednesdays at the Well. I am so glad you’re here.

Before we begin our journey, I want share why I chose Ireland for our first field trip.

If you’re a regular reader of my writing, you may have noticed that my grandparents regularly inspire my reflections. Growing up, I had seven grandparents (4 grands + 3 great-grands) that were all consistent if not daily presences in my life. So much of who I am, how I see the world, and how I live and move is influenced by what I learned from them. And also from the learnings that I’m still unraveling.

My paternal grandfather was an amazing and mysteriously charming man. Sadly, it wasn’t until just before his death that I realized how much we had in common. He was born on a farm in a little town in northern Michigan. Discovering at a young age he wasn’t cut out for farm life. After marriage, he and my grandma moved to Flint, where they raised their family. My grandpa was an artist. Poet and potter, photographer and picture framer. He was a gifted singer (a gift I did not inherit). He was curious and inquisitive and never without a question to ask.

He was also a traveler. I loved hearing stories of his adventures. When I would visit my grandparents’ house, I often went to the shelves in the family room and pulled out the albums of their trips. Hoping and dreaming that I’d travel the world one day like him.