More often than not, I end up spending some part of Memorial Day weekend at the New England Peace Pagoda.
It started as a way to hangout with a dear friend and then turned into an irregular habit and I now consider it the thing I do for Memorial Day. This year, my friend couldn’t accompany me. That’s okay. I went on my own.
People were there. Some were working, getting ready for a big event next Sunday (I won’t be able to go because I’ll be teaching 4th & 5th graders about Buddhism at the church where I work). Some were tourists, snapping photos with their smartphones or with their heavy-duty cameras. (I brought my heavy-duty camera this time, that’s why you get so many photos…).
Some were pilgrims, Buddhists, speaking a language that indicated home, at least first home, was far away.
Everything was exquisite.