105 years of travel
19 years ago I met an extra ordinary women. Her name, Martel Walters.
Tuesday afternoons for me, was spent in a retirement home doing voluntary work. The clatter of knitting needles and bickering, over whose turn it was to sit at the only window with a street view, became a part of my weekly routine. The fascinating stories, accumulated over a life time, served as the best life lesson I could not pay for.
It was here, that I realized the utmost foreboding sense of loneliness, of being forgotten and left with nothing but the possibility of ultimate hope that it is your turn for the "Street View". The constant reminder that once, you were free to go where you want, talk to who you want and not who you had to. The time when self respect was a choice and not a luxury.
Martel had no children. She was married to Professor Pirold. I do not expect many to know who he was. Go to your nearest wine store, ask for a bottle of Pinotage, open it and drink it, knowing that you now know Prof Pirold. He cultivated the pinotage grape! Martel was his wife.An amazing women. At 103 when I met her, her eyes were shining like Venus on a clear night. Her laughter roared from her belly at the remembrance of great adventures traveling through Africa, living and learning from the different tribes , each with their own rituals, language and beliefs. Her journey- to eventually make it back to her homeland of Germany. She left as a young women, ill with tuberculosis to recover in the sunny climate of South Africa. Here she met the love of her life, professor Pirold.
It was in these precious moments that my future began to shape. Her words, never far way in my mind- go and travel, see the world and love each second. When you get to my age, all you have is the memories to get you from one day to the next. Remembering these moments traveling, exploring is what makes life worthwhile. She never argued about sitting at the window. Her window- mind and soul.
Rest in peace my dear friend.
Tuesday afternoons for me, was spent in a retirement home doing voluntary work. The clatter of knitting needles and bickering, over whose turn it was to sit at the only window with a street view, became a part of my weekly routine. The fascinating stories, accumulated over a life time, served as the best life lesson I could not pay for.It was here, that I realized the utmost foreboding sense of loneliness, of being forgotten and left with nothing but the possibility of ultimate hope that it is your turn for the "Street View". The constant reminder that once, you were free to go where you want, talk to who you want and not who you had to. The time when self respect was a choice and not a luxury.
Martel had no children. She was married to Professor Pirold. I do not expect many to know who he was. Go to your nearest wine store, ask for a bottle of Pinotage, open it and drink it, knowing that you now know Prof Pirold. He cultivated the pinotage grape! Martel was his wife.An amazing women. At 103 when I met her, her eyes were shining like Venus on a clear night. Her laughter roared from her belly at the remembrance of great adventures traveling through Africa, living and learning from the different tribes , each with their own rituals, language and beliefs. Her journey- to eventually make it back to her homeland of Germany. She left as a young women, ill with tuberculosis to recover in the sunny climate of South Africa. Here she met the love of her life, professor Pirold.
It was in these precious moments that my future began to shape. Her words, never far way in my mind- go and travel, see the world and love each second. When you get to my age, all you have is the memories to get you from one day to the next. Remembering these moments traveling, exploring is what makes life worthwhile. She never argued about sitting at the window. Her window- mind and soul.
Rest in peace my dear friend.
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