Day 84, April 18, NYC

 We saved the best for last…our Lady of Liberty. She’s beautiful. When one contemplates the masses who swarmed to this new country pursuing life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, leaving mother countries and everything they owned, well, it’s rather humbling. Too, we were deeply touched by images of so many men headed off to and then returning from the fighting in Europe to maintain our liberties, plying through the waters of New York Harbor past Liberty as their beacon of hope. But we didn’t cry (much) until we watched video of people kissing the ground when they reached America’s shore. I kept looking at the benches in the massive Ellis Island arrival and processing hall wondering if my great grandfather James Drennan sat on this bench or that one. He was here as a 19 year old immigrant from Scotland, just another one of millions seeking a better future. I could feel him and almost see his ghost. 

We took our time and immensely enjoyed experiencing Ellis Island, The Statue of Liberty, and the ferry to and from. But at last the time arrived which Aaron had been dreading for a week, nay, since leaving St George…the drive from New Jersey across Manhattan to Queens where we will store Bambi for a couple of weeks while we join my kids first in Provo and then in The Caribbean. He did a yeoman’s job of navigating downtown Manhattan traffic, at 5pm even, and the most aggressive, rude, and dangerous drivers we’ve ever encountered on the worlds busiest and clogged roads, highways, and tunnels. If that wasn’t white knuckling enough, he then had to back the trailer into the tiny yard we’d rented across a construction site and through a narrow gate with parked cars on either side of the tight streets preventing his maneuverability and challenging even this experienced cowboy. He dodged UPS drivers vying for precious roadway space, endured a line of drivers honking at him (because that action was so helpful to the situation), plied carefully underneath low-hanging electrical wires, and experienced more stress than he’s had since marrying me. And he did all this with finesse and a sense of humor. And some sweat. But no cuss words. Kasper, you’re my hero!