Battle Hill, Memorial Day

I had hoped to plan an expedition to the highest point in Brooklyn, the Battle Hill plateau in Greenwood Cemetery, complete with hat wearing and safari outfits. The challenge of finding my way to the highest point seemed to call for as much. It was going to involve packing lunch and walking with sticks, because it is so much more fun to walk that way.

That's not what happened. I wound up there spontaneously and without much dignity Monday, slipping out of the passenger seat of the minivan as we left the cemetery after the Memorial Day concert, running up the hill and snapping away on the digital elph while everyone in the car endured my dalliances, as usual. It was a lovely day for taking pictures, or doing anything else, for that matter. I'm a little in awe of the weather's timing lately, a perfect sunny weekend after all the workday rain we've been having. Then today, storms again. Has the weather ever been so accommodating?






















Since the monument, as the plaque states, is a memorial to the heroic dead, the spontaneous visit on Memorial Day was a similarly well-timed element. Keep it coming, please. I'm not good at planning anyway. At least I got there at all. When the High Pointers, a national club of people whose ambition is to climb to the highest point in each state, hoped to ascend Battle Hill, there was subway trouble and they couldn't leave Manhattan. I'm not sure why they didn't try to get a bus. I've always loved that line "You plan, God laughs." Yes, God must work very hard to keep human beings humble. Our lethal weapons are just a tiny offense next to the harm we do with our arrogance and pride. Every day. Sermon over.

















I got to go over to the statue of Minerva at the Altar to Liberty. Someone told me that she and the Statue of Liberty face each other, arms lifted, allies in freedom. But unlike the copper lady, Minerva's patina's not ver de gris. Her skin is richly dark, and would necessarily be so, as a champion of justice you have to be able to withstand some very intense light, the same light people who live lies seek to avoid. The same bright light that makes grapes sweet. The light the heroic brave faced when they fought and fell. The battle field must be one of the hardest places to avoid the truth.