What kind of man was this?

What kind of man was this? 5 by 7 watercolor

Amid the joy, the emotion, and ceremony of the confirmation of Susan and her sister Sara at St. Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church this morning, I found myself looking at the beckoning Christ in front of a cross on the wall back of the altar.
What kind of man was this, that so many would follow?
His magnetism began when he was earthly, with dirty feet and sweat and words that riveted people, especially the poor and spiritually hungry, and drove others, especially the religious, away.
He taught love and forgiveness and acceptance and sincerity, trying to unite rather than divide--lessons foreign to the world then, and now.
Would he be welcome in many places that tout his name ? Where would he be on Sunday mornings? In fancy churches, or with the homeless? In political rallies or helping the poor?
What would he be teaching today, in this country, or in other countries where the languages, and religions and races are different?
Bishop Konieczny's powerful homily, delivered without notes but from a walker, told these new Episcopals, about the meaning of Jesus today.
Separate from the liturgies, the traditions, the regulations, narrow-minded judgments, the politics, the divisions, the vile acts and hatred performed in his name, this dark-skinned Middle Eastern Jew, who preached against hatred and judgment and hypocrisy, and said love your neighbor....
What kind of man was this who had the courage and truthfulness to  say and do what he did?

Episcopal confirmees, at St. Augustine of Canterbury, with Oklahoma Bishop The Right Reverend Dr. Edward J. Konieczny, under the outstretched arms of Jesus--Susan in white on front row left, with her sister Sara right behind her.

Windows into a wonderful world--2

Old window at Canterbury Cathedral

Windows tell you a lot about a place, a people, a time, a civilization, We take ours for granted, though I wish our 1970s house had bigger ones. Many of the newer ones do, but they're not distinctive, just cookie-cutter pre-fab ones.  
Go back in time and you'll find American windows smaller, especially on the frontier, or in pre-white man days when there was no glass. We're spoiled today with storm windows, screens, air conditioning and more. 

Parliament, Union Jack, from Westminster cloisters

Over time, windows reflect a civilization and culture, and that tells you something about the shallowness of America. Only in some aging neighborhoods in the city and elsewhere do you find windows with character, grace and style.
Windows draw me, my imagination--so many stories, histories, ghosts, hopes, fears--demanding to be photographed, to be encountered.
In England and Scotland I found different stories, growing out of centuries of habitation.
Too many words--I was overwhelmed everywhere I went, and it's hard to write about, to organize. The windows help. 

Canterbury Cathedral, from its cloisters

Earls Court Tube station--our window to the rest of London

A sea of red buses outside the 18th Century pub, The Clarence
 

Parliament...windows on freedom

Westminster, windows on the past

A journal of journaling in England

Every time we take a trip, this old newspaper man can't keep from taking notes, finding time at the end of the day to comment, to record impressions, to give a brief summary of the day's events. That, by the way, is where the first meaning of "journalism" came from, a record, or log, of the day's travel--using the Latin and now French word for "day," which is "jour."

Painting in Cambridge

So yes, I'm a journalist in many ways, and our trip to the England and Scotland was no exception, but with a couple of twists.
First, I went off and left the specific journal I'd bought for the trip. Fortunately, I had an Associated Press reporter's notebook in my bag.
And I did take another kind of journal, the handmade leather bound watercolour (in deference to my British heritage) from Mind's Eye Journals that I bought at the Paseo arts festival this year. And I brought my traveling watercolor kit, plus one other brush.

St. John's chapel

I had no idea if I'd have time to paint on our two week trip, but I was going to try. Fortunately, I did three paintings, and while they're not very good, they are mementos for me of specific days and times I will remember forever. I remember the seller of the journal telling me the journals are artifacts, and indeed they are--but then so have all my trip journals become.
Another reason the painting isn't great is that painting in England is far different that the desert southwest, where there is little moisture and lots of harsh landscapes. It's a slow transition for me to different painting.

My watercolours, and painting journal

Having been to England, Susan and I now understand how that landscape has so influenced English painting...it is moist and green. I wrote this in my AP notebook on the train on the way to Canterbury: "The English atmosphere cries out for watercolor. It's humid, fluid skies, green. It's idyllic, pastoral. The landscape drips with watercolour."

Here's the second of my three watercolours...St. John's College chapel at Cambridge University, done on the rooftop of the Varsity Hotel, virtually on the banks of the river Cam. It's late in the evening, we're getting a little sunburned, and there are lots of clouds in this distance. We've eaten, had some wine, and are listening to some Cambridge students at the next table celebrating the end of the semester. 
Yes, it's done in plein air, drying quickly, and painted quickly. I'd like to do it over, but that's later, and won't have as much meaning.

My AP notebook and transcribed notes

But at least, my doldrums of writing since we've returned seem to have ended. Here's hoping for a fresh breeze to gather and write all the thoughts and stories we encountered and experienced, recorded on those 81 pages of notes in the AP notebook and three watercolors. 

Some of my previous trip journals--the thick one is from Paris, 11 years ago,