hero

Today I delved into my sub conscious and found a distant dream/goal that I first encountered in the eighth grade. I was reminded about a classic author and I remembered a book I read in school. I don't think it was for a class but I read it because I heard he was the best. From the moment I first picked up Dicken's "David Copperfield" I was hooked. The first page contains the best writing I had ever encountered. "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show."

I was reminded of this passage when a friend told me that she was re-reading "Great Expectations". I offered that at one time Dickens was my favorite author. I lied. I just wanted the conversation to continue. Although my most favorite book IS "David Copperfield". I enjoyed Dickens style. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. " To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously. " From those lines on I was hooked. I read the whole think in the fall of my freshman year in high school.

I believe now that that has been the goal of my life. To be the hero of my own life. I dare say that I am still working on it. But the successes that I have enjoyed in life thus far have been the parts of my plan that have been purposefully achieved. I have known love and lost it. I have known love and won it. I continue to savor that victory.

I have two beautiful children whose lives hold as much promise as my own life did (and still does as I am still breathing). I must admit that the children's ages now provide an immense challenge to my wife and myself as to make me think that my hero status is in terrible jeopardy. But then things happen that can change my mind in an instant. They are beautiful, smart, generous and loving kids. They will go far in this life.

Does parenting make me heroic? I don't know. At times maybe. Plucking a baby from a swimming pool before he tries to breathe under water. Yeah, I did that. My 18 month son slipped not a foot from me. I grabbed him before he even thought to breathe. He is fine. Forgotten all about it. Of course, he has had 13 years.

Or pulling splinters?, Or cleaning scrapes and cuts? Answering questions?

Helping my daughter with her school project? Does that make me heroic? Maybe. But we all do that. Homework? I don't know.

I guess I am still trying to figure out that Dickens line. "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show." Maybe that is what this blog is all about. I don't know. I don't know if I can be called a hero just yet. Maybe that is the struggle. Maybe I should re-read David Copperfield. I will have to clean out the garage to find it. Wish me luck.

D.

Turning Fifty

During the past two weeks I turned a half a century old. I was given the opportunity to savor the joys of having a party in which my family (some) and friends (some) showed up to help me celebrate. It was a great party. My wife planned it exquisitly. She did not plan on surprising me but she did. I knew about the party, I knew about the attendees, but she put together a scrapbook that was just incredible - highlights of my life, my family and cherished moments.

Fifty years of living one can accumulate a great many dreams, ideas and accomplishments. Well, I had the first two but was kind of depressed about my lack of accomplishments. After looking at the friends who made the great effort to attend my celebration I have no doubt about my accomplishments. I have great friends. I still have great ideas and dreams, so, who knows. Maybe someday.

Depressed about my accomplishments? Yeah, kind of. I had dreams about what I wanted to do with my life. I can't say that my life has turned out exactly as I planned but I can't complain about how sweet it is. I wish I had written a bestseller, I am still working on a book of poetry, I have several ideas for plays, but the time to complete those tasks is hard to find. I have ideas. They come to me while driving, while fixing breakfast, while mowing the lawn. The thoughts are always popping into my head. I always have paper around for notes. I have lots of notes. I just need to write them down and get back to them when I have time to consolidate them.

I shouldn't be depressed. I still have time, desire and abilities. I just don't have time currently. I can squeeze in a half hour here or there, but nothing consistently. There are so many distractions just in living. So I write what I can, when I can. I write this blog. I still think. I still have ideas. Someday...

I think I have had a great first fifty years. I look forward to the next fifty years.

David

Family Reunions

Wow, what a wonderful two weeks. This summer my family had our 20th (21st? - who's counting?) family reunion. We have them about once every four years, so ours have been going on since 1933. The family story (from my cousin Patsy) states that my Grandfather and Grandmother and four kids were traveling out one 4th of July holiday to a picnic at other relatives farms. There was an auto accident and my aunt, who must have been four or five years old, broke her arm. Grandma said that from that point on she would not travel on July 4th and everyone could meet at her farm for the festivities. And so, our family reunions were born. We don't do them every year though. Off years are for in-laws families and individual families to establish traditions of their own.

This years reunion was fantastic. The planning was terrific and the venue worked out great. This year we had a total of 37 families attend. There were at least four families missing. Some cousins live in Europe and could not attend and some have young families and gas prices were pretty high this summer. But the rest of us got together and had a great time.

We got together to talk, reminisce and to make rope for the younger members. I believe every member of our family has (or should have) a piece of rope made at our reunions. During the years on the farm in North Dakota, there was always a need for rope. Sometimes it was difficult to travel to the hardware store for supplies so Grandpa bought a rope machine. Rope making is a collaborative effort and we have a lot of fun when we make rope. I remember when I was a kid there was alway beer around. Sometimes the beer mugs are just set on the grass to free the hands for ropemaking. (Sorry Uncle Don). Sometimes beer got spilled by little nephews. But we always had fun. This year was no different. I saw my cousins setting up the rope machines for their kids, grand kids, and nieces and nephews. Traditions get passed on. This, to me, was the best part of the reunion. The traditions, the re-connections, the rope-making, the talent show, the breakfasts, the dinners.

A hearty thank you to my cousins, Mary and Michelle. You, and all of your helpers, did a great job.