(.....12aug1) Homage To Eugene O'Neill

On my walk today I came upon this narrow park along the street, wild trees and shrubs pressing in from a creek on the other side. At intervals on the brick-lined walk-way stand waist-high bronze pedestals, an open book atop each one glassed over for protection depicting the life of my nation’s greatest dramatist, who created his finest work a few miles from this spot. Suddenly, from out of the great suburbanization of America, there came a sense of place— all spots not interchangeable— of ground hallowed, in this land that so few saints have trod, by O”Neill’s bleeding steps toward truth. With gratitude I wiped the dust from those glass pages, and felt his struggles validate my own.