Wednesday, September 19, 2007
sausage rolls and Yorkshire pudding - Wednesday, Sept. 19, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
1C/34F (high 10C), overcast, cool breeze across the lagoon, three geese hanging back after their flock departed, working their songs as if trying to coax leaves back to their branches
we all fall like those leaves, fail to last, lose our pigment, lose strength to keep hanging on; with people close to us on a family tree – one branch up or straight across, the volume of time we spend near them has little to do with how well, or how little, we know them
“To be able to look back upon life in satisfaction, is to live twice.” – Kahlil Gibran
“We live but a fraction of our lives.” – Henry David Thoreau
at 91 what does she look back on, how big a fraction would she feel she lived?; marriage, two daughters, four grandchildren and five (I think) great-grandchildren so far, loss of a husband, loss of a daughter and soon, loss of her own life; I met the parents of Susan, who I would marry, in 1971, later the maternal grandparents of my children – Vern died seven years ago; last night a call from daughter Krista advised Florence is clinging to life; my children have never been especially close to her, warmth not her strength, strong was; cuddling children not her style, sharp tongue and strong opinion her crusty veneer that kept the world from knowing who she really was; I last saw her at Vern’s funeral service; in recent years failing health has taken its toll, but she still clings to the tree – nothing to be done but to reflect and give some thought to life’s meaning
they say, ‘you can pick your friends but you can’t pick your relatives’; this old cliché gives a chuckle but fails to explains or offer understanding; when we team up to spend life with someone, we acquire another branch to our family tree – the grafting rarely smooth or simple; in-laws sometimes act more like out-laws (we all have some, don’t we?), we’ve all heard the jokes, or lived them; the tapestry is embellished with children, grand-children, cousins, marriages, more children, divorces, remarriages, reconciliations, smoothness, hostility, births, deaths, rifts, aging - and falling leaves
I wonder why I learned so little, remember so little; I remember the weirdest sounding shriek/giggle that would emerge if she won the board game or a trick in a card game, I remember aprons and white hair, I remember sausage rolls and Yorkshire pudding to die for, I remember more details of their home than of its residents – and I wonder if I was really ever paying much attention then; I think I would have enjoyed meeting Gibran and Thoreau – thoughtful men whose legacy of writing and reputation leave us with some sense that we ‘knew them’ when we really know nothing other than some clever words they wrote once – I wonder if their relatives felt they knew them?
time ticks along, strength evaporates, leaves fade, fall and blow away with the dust
Mark Kolke
341,844
202.2
What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
1C/34F (high 10C), overcast, cool breeze across the lagoon, three geese hanging back after their flock departed, working their songs as if trying to coax leaves back to their branches
we all fall like those leaves, fail to last, lose our pigment, lose strength to keep hanging on; with people close to us on a family tree – one branch up or straight across, the volume of time we spend near them has little to do with how well, or how little, we know them
“To be able to look back upon life in satisfaction, is to live twice.” – Kahlil Gibran
“We live but a fraction of our lives.” – Henry David Thoreau
at 91 what does she look back on, how big a fraction would she feel she lived?; marriage, two daughters, four grandchildren and five (I think) great-grandchildren so far, loss of a husband, loss of a daughter and soon, loss of her own life; I met the parents of Susan, who I would marry, in 1971, later the maternal grandparents of my children – Vern died seven years ago; last night a call from daughter Krista advised Florence is clinging to life; my children have never been especially close to her, warmth not her strength, strong was; cuddling children not her style, sharp tongue and strong opinion her crusty veneer that kept the world from knowing who she really was; I last saw her at Vern’s funeral service; in recent years failing health has taken its toll, but she still clings to the tree – nothing to be done but to reflect and give some thought to life’s meaning
they say, ‘you can pick your friends but you can’t pick your relatives’; this old cliché gives a chuckle but fails to explains or offer understanding; when we team up to spend life with someone, we acquire another branch to our family tree – the grafting rarely smooth or simple; in-laws sometimes act more like out-laws (we all have some, don’t we?), we’ve all heard the jokes, or lived them; the tapestry is embellished with children, grand-children, cousins, marriages, more children, divorces, remarriages, reconciliations, smoothness, hostility, births, deaths, rifts, aging - and falling leaves
I wonder why I learned so little, remember so little; I remember the weirdest sounding shriek/giggle that would emerge if she won the board game or a trick in a card game, I remember aprons and white hair, I remember sausage rolls and Yorkshire pudding to die for, I remember more details of their home than of its residents – and I wonder if I was really ever paying much attention then; I think I would have enjoyed meeting Gibran and Thoreau – thoughtful men whose legacy of writing and reputation leave us with some sense that we ‘knew them’ when we really know nothing other than some clever words they wrote once – I wonder if their relatives felt they knew them?
time ticks along, strength evaporates, leaves fade, fall and blow away with the dust
Mark Kolke
341,844
202.2
What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
