LONELY SAILS

For a long time among reasonably educated people, partings would provoke polite sadness and restrained melodrama. Travel was difficult, slow, and dangerous, mail was unreliable and often so after-the-fact as to be almost fictional, and the chances of ever seeing another person again after a posting to a distant corner of the known world rather slim. Generations of colonial civil servants, when and if they ever returned, could not reassemble the parts of their past lives and found little more than loose ends. The same with Roman administrators, officers of caliphates, Chinese scholar-officials, and émigrés to the new world.

That, and more rampant disease meant that things would never be the same.

Nowadays, of course, Batavia, Bengal, and the malarial wastelands in Ling Nan are only a few hours away. The mails are more reliable and faster, there are telephones and social media.

When Li Bai (李白 'lei baak') and Meng Haoran (孟浩然 'maang hou-yin') parted at the Yellow Crane Pavilion in Wuhan (武漢 'mou hon'), over twelve centuries ago -- Meng heading toward Yangchow (揚州 'yeung jou') -- they wrote this poem:

故人西辭黃鶴樓
煙花三月下揚州
孤帆遠影碧空盡
唯見長江天際流

[黃鶴樓送孟浩然之廣陵 -- 李白]

Translation (sort of): An old companion departs for the west at the Yellow Crane Tower, in the mists and blossoms of the third month he heads to Yangzhou. A lonely sail slowly disappears into the blue expanse, only leaving the Long River flowing to the horizon in sight.

[What reminded me of the poem was the mention of Yellow Crane Tower Cigarettes (黃鶴樓煙 'wong hok lau yin') , a popular brand overseas. Suitable as respectful gifts during holidays, or for special occasions, and as mementoes.]

Over the past year and a half, some friends passed away from various causes.
Regrettably I had not seen them in many months.

A few days ago I remembered classmates and former friends and associates in Valkenswaard. Having left so long ago, it is doubtful that they think of me these days, and unlikely that we'll ever meet again. There is nothing there to go back to.

Probably just as well.

So much has changed in the intervening years.


In early Autumn it is natural to think of such things. The Moon Festival, a return to school, the cultural memory of harvest time and the common seasonal endeavors .....


I wish I had seen those friends before their passing. They were good people. The world seems less with them gone. I'll make sure to keep in contact with the folks who remain.
And see them again once the pandemic is over.




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