I walked today in the most amazing weather imaginable for this time of the year, perhaps five kilometers along Douglas street to the outskirts of the inner harbour. It was a day that only magicians could have conjured up and as a million words tumbled into phrases and sentences, as a thousand pictures formed and focused in my inner kaleidescope, as sounds of people living became the music of life’s beat, I reached the junction of Douglas and Dallas.
A statue stood, obvious but unheralded off the main walkway. It seemed a little misshapen, one leg obviously larger than the other.
I walked across, a little intrigued but oblivious to the fact that Serendipity had again waved its wand, taken my hand and pointed me towards the figure. I’ll leave you with a picture, an inscription and this thought.
Sometimes even for a product of the Celtic Nations, a wee tear is not a slight on our virility. Mine today was not a tear of regret but one of inspiration, admiration and humility.
I believe Terry Fox’s ‘Marathon of Hope’ was more successful than even he could have hoped for; for surely as long as we can recognise the ‘real heroes’ and ‘real heroines’ in this world there is ‘real hope’ for us all. Terry will always be for me one of those heroes and heroines!
Click the pictures! and then google his name and ‘Marathon of hope’ for the full amazing story.
There is indeed only one Terry Fox