Thanks John, great writing and spot on timing for me. Like all your writing the message cuts through and strikes chords that resonate deeply. It would have been my Dad’s 90th birthday today. He died over 3 years ago. A lifelong farmer who taught by his example in so many ways. As farmers we have such a direct connection to the previous generations and in so many ways we have the opportunity to remember and honour them. But we need to pause and reflect and acknowledge much of what is around us that is so easy to take for granted. Today’s trend of style over substance makes it so easy for us to claim credit for what we’ve done, when the real hard work and sacrifice was done by our forefathers. We live on a farm my great grandfather bought in 1912, and after a bit of a fortuitous roundabout journey, my wife and I moved onto this farm over 30 years ago when we got married, to make a home, a farm and a family. Everything needed fixing and updating, but we had time and passion and it was ours. And now this is the home and farm our family has grown up on and continue to farm. I never knew my great grandfather, but his hard work and enterprise all those years ago created the opportunity for me to get started in farming. At times now when I question why we are still working so hard I think that somehow we are honouring and remembering the work of my farming family founders and paying it forward to future generations in some unknowable way.
I remember, honor, forgive and love both my parents often. Especially now as I enter my Daddy’s WWII letters to my Mom into my laptop. He never talked about his training for a year at Ft Lewis near Tacoma or his training in California and Oklahoma before he literally shipped out from NYC with his artillery battalion. He landed in Scotland and moved south to ship out to the 3rd wave onto Utah beach on Normandy coast. He drove orders during night time blackout without headlights returning before sunrise. Served in Ardennessand the Battle of the Bulge.
Anyway he returned to his family farm and only had about 25 years before dieing of glioblastoma at age 57. I’m thankful life has lead me back to live about 30 min from the cemetery where my parents remains are interred. I look at the plaque for his bronze star and know he is a true hero. My hero.
I was moved by your thoughts on the three things that we owe the dead. And it reminds me of what I learned from dear friends in Mexico. The Day of the Dead is not focused on the frivolity and ceremony, which seem to be celebrated. Instead, there is purpose in family gathering around the grave of someone gone and spending the time to remember them to each other with thoughts and maybe stories of their ancestors. Trust me, I am hoping when the time comes that my descendants will consider taking the time to cover your third suggestion... forgiveness ... and be generous, please.
Beautiful. We do remember them. Honor and love them. Our parents and grandparents.
But what about my grandad's dad? Nothing. Our lives and our memories of those loved ones only go back 2 generations. I often ponder that when I'm gone, my name will never be uttered or thought of after these next few years. Does everyone think about that too?
It's called our second death. When enough time and generations have passed that we're no longer remembered. The thought used to trouble me, but less so now. Just as I've grown less concerned with legacy. I think our lives are a gift, and hopefully the best of us will carry on in our children and the good deeds we've put into the world. After that, when we shuffle off our mortal coils, perhaps greater things await. Thanks, Paul.
Your stories have so much dept..so much appreciation for those whose work & love made our lives that much more richer.... and I LOV that picture.. and the hat : )))
Wish I'd read this years ago, taken me years to find peace enough to work this out on my own. I'm aware that forgiveness isn't approval, but didn't quite realize how much of letting anger go was the first step toward peace. We all have ups and downs in our lives, for me, your words have a way of making sense of them. In my eighties now and am happily living in peace, thanks in no small part to your work John. Blessings and keep writing please.
I’ve read that anger is a hot coal we throw at others, but we still burn our hand. I’m glad you’ve found peace, Gigi, and I appreciate your kind words.
Oh this is beyond beautiful! I particularly love this inspirational, poignant line:
"Forgiveness is not approval. It is the decision to let mercy land somewhere.
Sometimes that is the only peace available to us."
Wow. Just - wow. Magnificent writing, thank you.
Thanks, Jane. I wrote those lines a few different ways before I settled on the final version. Glad it resonates.
Thanks John, great writing and spot on timing for me. Like all your writing the message cuts through and strikes chords that resonate deeply. It would have been my Dad’s 90th birthday today. He died over 3 years ago. A lifelong farmer who taught by his example in so many ways. As farmers we have such a direct connection to the previous generations and in so many ways we have the opportunity to remember and honour them. But we need to pause and reflect and acknowledge much of what is around us that is so easy to take for granted. Today’s trend of style over substance makes it so easy for us to claim credit for what we’ve done, when the real hard work and sacrifice was done by our forefathers. We live on a farm my great grandfather bought in 1912, and after a bit of a fortuitous roundabout journey, my wife and I moved onto this farm over 30 years ago when we got married, to make a home, a farm and a family. Everything needed fixing and updating, but we had time and passion and it was ours. And now this is the home and farm our family has grown up on and continue to farm. I never knew my great grandfather, but his hard work and enterprise all those years ago created the opportunity for me to get started in farming. At times now when I question why we are still working so hard I think that somehow we are honouring and remembering the work of my farming family founders and paying it forward to future generations in some unknowable way.
Exactly, Alan. We honor the ones who came before us, who built a foundation. And we carry it forward for the next generation. Thanks for your comment.
I remember, honor, forgive and love both my parents often. Especially now as I enter my Daddy’s WWII letters to my Mom into my laptop. He never talked about his training for a year at Ft Lewis near Tacoma or his training in California and Oklahoma before he literally shipped out from NYC with his artillery battalion. He landed in Scotland and moved south to ship out to the 3rd wave onto Utah beach on Normandy coast. He drove orders during night time blackout without headlights returning before sunrise. Served in Ardennessand the Battle of the Bulge.
Anyway he returned to his family farm and only had about 25 years before dieing of glioblastoma at age 57. I’m thankful life has lead me back to live about 30 min from the cemetery where my parents remains are interred. I look at the plaque for his bronze star and know he is a true hero. My hero.
Remember and give thanks.
Beautifully expressed. Your father sounds like he was an amazing man. How sad, like my grandfather, he was taken so young. Thanks for reading.
I was moved by your thoughts on the three things that we owe the dead. And it reminds me of what I learned from dear friends in Mexico. The Day of the Dead is not focused on the frivolity and ceremony, which seem to be celebrated. Instead, there is purpose in family gathering around the grave of someone gone and spending the time to remember them to each other with thoughts and maybe stories of their ancestors. Trust me, I am hoping when the time comes that my descendants will consider taking the time to cover your third suggestion... forgiveness ... and be generous, please.
Thanks, Otto. I've always admired the Mexican celebration, Dia de Los Muertos. It's important to remember and honor our loved ones.
Beautiful. We do remember them. Honor and love them. Our parents and grandparents.
But what about my grandad's dad? Nothing. Our lives and our memories of those loved ones only go back 2 generations. I often ponder that when I'm gone, my name will never be uttered or thought of after these next few years. Does everyone think about that too?
It's called our second death. When enough time and generations have passed that we're no longer remembered. The thought used to trouble me, but less so now. Just as I've grown less concerned with legacy. I think our lives are a gift, and hopefully the best of us will carry on in our children and the good deeds we've put into the world. After that, when we shuffle off our mortal coils, perhaps greater things await. Thanks, Paul.
Second death seems appropriate. I agree that this - now - is our gift. Thanks.
Your stories have so much dept..so much appreciation for those whose work & love made our lives that much more richer.... and I LOV that picture.. and the hat : )))
Thanks, Brenda. Picked the hat up in Los Gatos, California before the event. Not sure it's 1920s theme, but close enough.
Simply poignant !
Thanks for reading, Joy.
Wish I'd read this years ago, taken me years to find peace enough to work this out on my own. I'm aware that forgiveness isn't approval, but didn't quite realize how much of letting anger go was the first step toward peace. We all have ups and downs in our lives, for me, your words have a way of making sense of them. In my eighties now and am happily living in peace, thanks in no small part to your work John. Blessings and keep writing please.
I’ve read that anger is a hot coal we throw at others, but we still burn our hand. I’m glad you’ve found peace, Gigi, and I appreciate your kind words.