-----Original Message-----

From: Dan Burke

Sent: Thursday, June 17, 2004 1:59 PM

To: Dan Burke

Subject: Older and wiser.

Venice is both amazing, and a bit sad at the same

time. It's kind of like seeing that guy who you knew

in high school, the one who had the beard freshman

year, the who excelled at all the sports, that was the

best looking, got all the girls... had everything

going for him when you were just popping zits in the

mirror. It's kind of like seeing him at your 20th high

school reunion. He looks much older than he should.

Life has been hard on him, and the divorces, and the

booze and cigarettes, much worse. His corvette is now

old and beat up, but somehow you can still see the

magic in his smile.

Maybe Liz Taylor is a better example. Once, many years

ago, she was as majestic as a woman can be. She was

strong, beautiful, dominate but feminine. Her prime

years were hers alone, and all paid homage to her

greatness. She knew it; we all knew it. There will

never be another Liz Taylor.

Venice had it's heyday. Those times are gone. Still, I

can see the magic that winks when you pass a dark

alley, or when the sun sets on Piazza St. Marko and

the orange streaks sparkle on the gold mosaics that

crown that Gothic beauty. The four horses that protect

her are still there, although now copies, protect the

sinking monument as we all sag in the inevitability of

old age, of eventual death.

Venice is a place of love. It's huge; bigger than you

think. Still, in it's latter years, it's easy to see

all the wisdom still casting shadows on the canals.

I can hear a gondola passing. The musician on board is

playing Volare on his accordion. This is my last

night in Italy. At least for this trip.