good journey john aherne

They dived last week, Easter Sunday, Tuesday and yesterday. Then they brought in a ROV. In the end they located his body this morning a few meters from the quayside at six meters depth.

Yesterday at around 5pm I walked from the restaurant he left his coat and phone down to the water. On my way I tried to locate CCTV camera which could possibly reveal a lead. I reflected and noted the ample options of trees, bushes cached corners someone could consider if a need to relieve oneself presented itself.

The distance between the door and the water isn't great, but it required crossing a square, navigating residential buildings and finally crossing a broad cobblestone quay. I just can't fathom the motivation to take that path, without a coat while a private item sat on a bar.

I didn't know John Aherne. I've only once met his friend, Karl Lambert, his friend who sounded the alarm and initiated a thread on the Local.se which resulted in an outpouring of positive thoughts for John as well as wonderful anecdotes by his friends, family and other well wishers. He sounds like a most wonderful man. In taking that walk I couldn't help but try to put myself into the head of man who was at that moment still missing.

John is found.

He has touched a great number of people. Farewell John. May you have a good journey.

missing irishman

John Aherne is still missing.

I don't know him personally. I know the friend he was visiting albeit rather casually. However, that link to reality makes a news story a real life drama in my life. I'm following the follow up given by his friend, Karl Lambert, along with other friends of Karl and John's to us in our "community".

It's easy to read about hundreds, thousands, even millions killed or tortured or otherwise suffering and not blink. It torments me to have a second-hand tie to what must be the most tortuous waiting period for friends and family of John's --and Karl's. Reality really hits home. It sounds so obvious, but until you can connect personally, all the horrors of the world are still just stories.

This one is real for me.

It is also rather disconcerting to have an excellent awareness of the exact location of where John was last seen and the area of Stockholm water that the police are currently searching.

I think everyone is starting to accept the worst case scenario. Now the why, how and what's begin.

My heart and hope goes out to John, Karl and all their loved ones.

And if anyone has any information at all....Please please please contact the police.

dello sport international: boston's north end

I just had to take a picture

tourist in your own town

People rarely visit their own towns. It's pretty obvious why we aren't tourists in our own town. But we really ought to be. Our own towns often have a lot more to offer than we give them credit for.

I'm actually pretty good at knowing "my own town". I definitely know Stockholm, probably on par with any travel or tourist guide. On the whole, I could probably stack up more knowledgeable than most guides. I may not get all the dates and historical names right, but I know what Stockholm has to offer and I've experienced it as a tourist, as a long term resident and as a guide.

I used to think I knew Boston. I have also been a resident and a guide. However, as a resident first, you tend to guide with prejudice. You stick to what you know and what you think is the best Boston has to offer.

I don't know if it's because I've been absent from Boston as a resident for so many years or if Boston has changed so much during that time, but I recently rediscovered this marvelous town and feel sad that I haven't and won't explore it more.

The visit of my Swedish niece and her Iowan boyfriend put me into the North End and Charlestown. I ate in one of those North End restaurants that everyone who visits Boston talks about. It was amazing. There was a surreal feeling for me as if I were part of a movie set rather than just a few miles away from my birthplace and childhood home. I was reminded how locally restricted Bostonians are when I was talking to the woman in the restaurant. She is probably the mama who owns and runs the restaurant and has probably lived her life in the North End. She might have moved to a nearby suburb when they got wealthier; probably Medford.

Telling her I had grown up in Watertown didn't seem to convey the sense of "from here" I had intended it to. I knew she knew of it, but I realized as I was saying it it probably had the same relevance as if I met someone who said they had grown up in Medford, i.e. --pretty much nothing besides the "not too far from here" but a world apart.

I was a tourist in my own town. I liked exploring it and expanding my horizons even if just a tad.

On reflection: I think I would have been a tourist in the North End even if I were still living in Boston.

a swede in america

We crossed the proverbial pond to visit Grandma and Grandpa. That's the most accurate way to describe our trip since the primary beneficiaries are the kids and the grandparents. This trip is for them. I will try to take advantage of the crumbs and morsels of the leftovers.

Moving on. There is always the element of reverse culture shock. In my opinion this doesn't have to be negative. While getting of the plane encumbered by somewhat sleeping infant in baby carrier, a backpack and carry on, I had a small boy who was miserable having been awoken from his sleep. He pulled it together to walk off the plane on his own. Unfortunately, his grogginess makes him rather clumsy. Tripping up the walkway from the plane, he had a rough arrival on US soil. The shock came from the outpouring of people offering, even insisting on helping me. I was touched. Unfortunately, the only thing I really needed was someone to mind X, but in that state he wants only mommy or daddy. But someone we managed. And I thanked the group of people who tried to help.

In the baggage claim the first observation X made was hearing a child his age speaking. He looked at me in wonder and said, "He speaks English like I do." Funnily enough that everybody speaks English hasn't fazed him after that initial observation.

Jet lag hinders any blog entries of any literary value. I think I'll stop here for now.