Why a Stone?

Coming up this June I’m walking the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage in Spain popular since medieval times to challenge myself, commune with nature and my fellow man, and feed my soul.  I’m keeping a hand written journal for both preparation prior to and the recording of observations during but I also thought I could share from it with you.  I don’t know how frequently but we shall see.  

It is a tradition when you walk the Camino to carry a stone with you, either from home or the beginning of your journey.  This stone can represent many things from a burden you wish to release or possibly an answer to a prayer or question that you seek.  For me my stone represents my connection to and gratitude for the lives of the loved ones I lost in 2025.  Starting with Dad in June and then Mimi and Ed at the end of July it was indeed a cruel summer.  In their memory I will carry mementos of the things that they loved with me and at a high point on the Camino at the foot of an iron Cross outside of Foncebadón I will lay these things down. 

In trying to think of what might best represent them I thought it more important to choose something that I connect with them and for all three it was fairly obvious. Mimi loved the beach and referred to it as her “Happy Place.”  There is a painted sign at the condo which reads “If you’re lucky enough to be at the beach then you’re lucky enough” and that was a truism that she firmly believed.  Many words of wisdom she passed along as she reclined in the South Carolina sunshine and I can still see her with her hand shading her eyes as the grandchildren splashed in the waves. So for her I will scoop a small container of sand from Pawley’s Island and carry it to the Camino.

For Dad I chose sand as well but anyone that knew him understood that he would rather be in the mountains than at the beach.  So the only sand he often came near was on a golf course. But now that I think about it I don’t recall him ever being in the sand although he did give me lessons on how to get out. Instead of gathering sand from a random course, I’m heading to his home course in Cookeville to pull a little sand from the greenside bunker at hole number 8.  Dad and Debbie’s back patio overlooks the green and the hilarity of sitting with him sipping a cold beer as he provided commentary on the play we were witnessing is a set of memories that I cherish.  Hopefully White Plains won’t mind if I take just a little since I’m sure Dad never removed any during his numerous rounds there. 

Before hearing about the stone tradition for the Camino I considered three different sets of sand commingled for my journey and, if so, no sand would better represent my memories of Ed than that from the island where we spent summer days on Lake Marion.  Retrieving it would require some effort but I was committed until my change of plans and I really wanted a stone to carry with me as I prepared for my walk as a daily reminder.  So a few weeks ago when I was saying goodbye to mom I looked on the foyer table at a selection of pottery sherds and arrowheads.  I spent many Sunday afternoons walking plowed fields with him in search of arrowheads and I can still feel the silty bottom of the lake as we used our feet to feel for pottery.  I selected a nondescript fragment with no particular significance and stuck it in my pocket.  Now I put it in my pocket when I leave the house and place it with my keys and wallet when I return.  And several times during the day I fiddle with it and remember the three of them and in a few months I will set it down in Spain.  

I’ve heard it said that when you walk the Camino you really walk it three times:  one while you are planning in anticipation, one while you are on the Camino itself, and then one in your memories.  I’m starting to believe it and I’m thoroughly enjoying the first stage as the four of us prepare for the adventure of a lifetime.  So until my next entry I will leave you with the salutation that pilgrims give to each other.  Buen Camino!