Five weeks, five bridges, and one lesson: bridges can only bear witness. They cannot compromise, cannot learn, cannot give something up for the sake of connection. Only we can do that. The final part of a series on bridges, on Election Day.
Five weeks, five bridges, and one lesson: bridges can only bear witness. They cannot compromise, cannot learn, cannot give something up for the sake of connection. Only we can do that. The final part of a series on bridges, on Election Day.
From Andrić’s bridge at Višegrad - which has endured centuries of human inhumanity - to one of the deepest canyons in Europe where an engineer broke his own bridge to protect the people it connected. Part IV of my five-part series on bridges.
In July 1995, more than 8,000 people were murdered in and around Srebrenica, a genocide like nothing Europe had seen since World War II. Ryrie and I walked the rows of tombstones in Potočari, passed shelled and abandoned Bosniak homes in Srebrenica, and amidst the darkness found a family and a glimmer of hope.
Big Jim. A gentle giant. A gem of a human, and a loss that will be missed. Jim Whittaker, who passed away at 97 on April 7, was - to say the least - an amazing person. Like his twin brother - Lou Whittaker, who passed two years back - Jim was a massive man, […]
Everest 1963, Everest History, In Memoriam
Read More“Don’t get happy!” came the thundering voice from the sidelines. It was a classic saying of the late Norm Walker, my football coach, English teacher, poet, wisdom-giver, and wonderful man in high school at Holderness School. It sounded strange at first blush, but made sense the longer one played for Coach Walker: he hated cockiness, […]
Take meTo the magic of the moment on a glory night I wasn’t expecting to hear the Scorpions in the rural outskirts of Danilovgrad. And especially not belted out by a group of passionate, wine-buzzed, new Montenegrin friends roughly in tune with an accordion player. But, strange things happen when you open up on the […]
Montenegro, Thursday Thought, Yugoslavia
Read MoreThe flakes stung my cheeks, wind whipped, swirling through pines swaying in the gale. It was only 25 degrees or so, not cold for this valley this time of year, but cold enough to feel icy tendrils snaking up my extremities. I wanted to go, to move, to get warm. But not yet. I came […]
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