I wish I had gone to Wales.....

     In 1979 I had a month in the UK, a BritRail pass, and money in my pocket. My brother and his wife lived in Manchester, which is where I left one of my bags. I made some friends in Edinburgh and traveled further north and south with them. some of my buddies whom I made when studying in Trier, Germany has enough money left on a Fulbright grant to meet me in London for a weekend. How difficult that was to organize before cell phones and the Internet!

     I never really went to the Highlands in Scotland, and I also never went to Wales. It would have been wonderful to hear the sonorous Welsh voices and to see the scenery. Ah.....Four years later on our honeymoon we came close, but never went to the other side of Offa's Dyke. We had jobs and limited time off. Rather like now, actually, but it is all right.

    Last night in the poetry class I teach we heard Richard Burton reading Dylan Thomas' "Fern Hill". I explained to them how Robert Zimmerman was so enthralled with the poet that he took the first name for his new surname. Only one of the class knew Burton, from Cleopatra.

    The poem is here for you!