“If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the wind over the plain display itself with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is in, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?”
~Karen Blixen, taken from the novel ‘Out of Africa’
In one of the most beautiful books ever written, author Isak Denisen details the autobiographical life of Karen Blixen. In the story, the protagonist journeys to Africa to start a coffee farm. After a rich and meaningful life filled with travels and relationships and triumphs and tragedies, Blixen is forced to leave her beloved Africa far too soon. And as she is leaving, she wonders aloud whether Africa will miss her as much as she will miss it. It is one of the most remarkable and moving passages ever written.
A world away from Africa, I had the great good fortune of knowing someone much like Karen Blixen–a woman who was quiet and gentle, a dreamer who loved travels and adventures, and someone who gave far more than she ever received. Tragically, after a long and arduous struggle with cancer, she too was forced to leave before she was ready.
Reminiscent of Blixen’s moving lament, Pam Hoyt–my dear and treasured childhood friend–knew a song of beautiful places. Standing on the shore where her remains were scattered, I am convinced that this place knows a song of her–and her memory is forever carried on the wind.
The fog lifts and a gentle September breeze blows through trees along the Cascade Highlands shore of Minnesota’s Lake Superior.
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