Read, Dave, Read

Dave Read writes

Read, Dave, Read

What’re the odds that a poet be born into a family named Read – to have as his own proper noun, the Janus of a verb that always looks both ways? That is the tip of the iceberg of good luck that is my fate. It came to me from my father, David J. Read (1915-1963), who was a model citizen in the city of Oswego, NY, and a heroic soldier during WWII.

Berenice Swift Read peers over the shoulder of her son, David J., to marvel at the bright shining light of her grandson, David Conlin Andrew Read
Berenice Swift Read peers over the shoulder of her son, David J., to marvel at the bright shining light of her grandson, David Conlin Andrew Read.

This photo indicates that winter came late to Oswego in 1948, as Christenings were usually scheduled several weeks after birth, which would date it to mid-December. My grandmother, whom I barely got to know before her sudden death ten years later, was fond of bold chapeaux!!

How are you, Dave Read?

May 22, 2024, Lenox, MA – It has been an adventurous year for me, and here are snapshots of Caitlin’s trip north to drive me to Boston for my “three months out” visit with surgeon #1, followed by four days of restorative rest, awesome eats, and more walking than I’d done all year, at Caitlin and Jonathan’s swank townhouse in Virginia, just outside DC.

The statue below, and the National Portrait Gallery, were the only attractions attractive enough for me to want to get off my duff and leave Chez Falls – of course, the kids made sure the old man got there.

Caitlin and I became enamored of sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens, introduced to us by David McCullough via The Greater Journey, which we read at the same time a while ago.

"Grief" - sculpted by Augustus Saint-Gaudens at the direction of Henry Adams.
“Grief” – sculpted by Augustus Saint-Gaudens at the direction of Henry Adams.

I became aware of “Grief,” after reading “The Education of Henry Adams.” Henry Adams, great grandson and grandson of presidents, was a recent college grad when his father brought him to London in 1860, as his private secretary, while he served as Abraham Lincoln’s ambassador to the Court of St. James.

One of these days I’ll publish snapshots from the National Portrait Gallery and the train trip, maybe. Oh yeah, I enjoyed all three floors of the gallery in a wheelchair, helmed by the mysterious Lady in Red. I gladly dropped into it after the hike from the Metro to the gallery (it’s next to where the NHL Caps play)!

Home via Amtrak, which was as pleasant a non-car trip as I’ve ever taken; the Rensselear-Lenox connection was provided by Maureen and Bill, how generous of them.

P.S. What I find most wonderful about the statue is that there is no name anywhere near it, no symbol of any religion; but there is room for a score of people to gather, regardless whom or what they may need/want to grieve. As directed by Adams, Saint Gaudens made it so that viewers cannot tell if the shrouded figure is female or male.

Robert Gould Shaw Memorial

Robert Gould Shaw Memorial, by Augustus Saint-Gaudens.
Robert Gould Shaw Memorial, by Augustus Saint-Gaudens.

P.P.S. Saint-Gaudens most famous sculpture is the Robert Gould Shaw Memorial, located at the entrance to the Boston Public Gardens, which was wrapped up and being worked on when we stopped to visit before leaving town, alas. The hit movie “Glory” is about Capt. Shaw and the African-American 54th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. Shaw spent his honeymoon at his bride’s family estate in Lenox, which is about a block from mine!