Unbridled power, quiet peace

“When you come to New York, Dad,” my daughter had told me a few years ago, “we’ll drive down and see the Niagara Falls!”

I remembered the Niagara Falls. For years before visiting it the first time, I had seen pictures and picture postcards of the waters cascading down the rocky sides onto the river below. For years before seeing it, I had visualized the spectacular picture in my mind, but what I saw that day was beyond my wildest dreams.

I travelled from New York to Buffalo by the Greyhound, very comfortable and with all the luxury of an airplane. For company, I had a young man from Japan and we two became good friends on the bus. I remember ever so often watching him open his Japanese to English dictionary so he could describe something to me using the correct word. It was important to him that he said everything precisely and to the point. It’s no wonder they are a great nation today. We travelled through the night, and in the morning reached Buffalo from where we changed buses to go to the Falls.

From the bus station, we walked towards the Falls, wondering what spectacular sound or scene would suddenly startle us.

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