Musings in the Snow!
12:00 am 1/28/2011About 14 hours ago I took Virgil for a walk with me before I had to leave for work. This morning was one of those days that makes you happy to just be alive. It was very cold and the sky was a leaden grey, and there wasn't even a hint that the Sun would peek through at all... but, that certainly was no cause not to enjoy this day. Only big, wet, heavy, snowflakes falling could have made it any more perfect. In only a matter of minutes my hands and face were ice-cold... but it was the kind of biting cold that makes you feel alive... and like maybe all things really are possible?
Feeling impossibly good for no real or apparent reason I decided to do what I sometimes do when I am on that particular trail at Vissing Park... I stopped for a few minutes at the old Espy family cemetery. I like to stop there because it is so very old and I try to imagine who these people were that are buried there? After a little while of trying to imagine what their lives were like I wrapped Virgil's leash around one of the gate-posts and I hopped over the fence to read the dates and names on some of the stones.
Three of the girl's names I read that are on the stones were Anna, Sarah, and Hannah: now for me though, it's the dates which are the most remarkable: for example, one of the girls was born in May, 1774. (Two whole years before we had a signed Declaration of Independence!) Can you imagine how different their lives were compared to ours now. To be sure... we have dangers also: an example is the insane boy, not much out of his teens, who shot several people at a recent political gathering. But, back then... not only did they have wild animals of all types in the heavy woods that was once a large part of this area of the country... but in and around the Jeffersonville, Indiana area... there was a lot of fighting with hostile Indians. (On my office wall above my desk I have a painting that is all about Indians and the different tribes who inhabited America in its early days. (In this area of the country there were three main groups of Indians: The Pottawatomie, Fox, and the Cherokee.)
In fact, the famous Revolutionary War officer and much celebrated Indian fighter, Col. Christian (brother-in-law to Patrick Henry) was killed in a battle with some Indians who had crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky and had stolen a bunch of horses. Col. Christian gathered several men and they pursued the Indians back into Jeffersonville, and about a mile north of where I sit this evening (225 years later) and am typing this blog... in 1786 he was killed in a battle with that particular group of Indians.
The only reason I am recounting that bit of history is so that you might better be able to imagine the lives these people had back then: when this country was in its infancy. Yet, as I stood there thinking about all of this and the possibility of hard lives which might have been led... that is not what captured my imagination.
I was picturing the girls and their families doing things that kids do even today: playing games, running in the woods... fishing... drawing... reading... really, everything people do for real enjoyment today... could well have been done by these girls also. Of course, I don't mean what some can do with modern inventions that we now use... but everything else was in play.
And as I stood there this morning I was thinking that if the world lasts another 225 years, there might come a day when someone stands near my tombstone and marvels at how long I have been dead. And if I could talk I would tell him (or her) what I imagine those girls would have told me this morning... if it were possible for them to talk? That really... they were no different than me... even as I would be no different than one who might come 225 years after I am long dead and buried.
Today in the cemetery I read other names as well, and I wondered if Sarah's husband Hugh... or Hannah's husband George... lived happy and fulfilled lives? I mean think about it: don't you imagine that all of them wanted what we want today... and what people will still want 225 years into the future. In the end we all have the same interests and goals: wouldn't all of us want to laugh more often than we cry? Love and be loved more often than we hate... or are hated? Wouldn't all of us rather try and fail... than not try at all? (There are limitless questions which could be posed here that would all prove only one thing... there is a commonality that ties the human-race together.)
It is the last question I posed above that I thought about early this morning that now drives me to try and do some of the things I have always wanted to do before I reach an age that makes it only possible in my imaginings to accomplish.
I just believe that I am going to try... and even if I fail... then, at least I HAVE TRIED! Does someone who is reading this have a Mount Everest to climb... now, of course, it might not be THE Mount Everest... but whatever “it” is will be very hard for you to accomplish? If so, better get started... don't you think?
I don't know about you... but if 225 years from now someone is reading my grave-marker... I want them to have every confidence that I actually lived life. Perhaps not always well... and I might even have failed far more than ever I succeeded... but, I didn't quit either. In fact, I might have been stopped at times, but there is a difference between being stopped and just giving up or giving in.
About ten minutes ago I turned my hourglass over on my desk to remind me again of the brevity of life... so to all of my friends who still open up this blog to see what I occasionally write: I implore you to decide now... while you still have the most valuable of all commodities... time: to get busy and accomplish some of those loftier goals you used to have for yourself!
If God grants you long life and a natural death... do not be that person who must lay on their very own deathbed and have many regrets. Two very good poets wrote something about this very topic: though both are good... Whittier's is my favorite.
Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote: “The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.” Is there something you need to say... or something you ought to do... then say it... or do it... because the sand in my hourglass is growing smaller on top and larger on the bottom. But, even if you do not own an hourglass... and you have never marked time like that: the sands are running out on you as well.
John Whittier wrote: “For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been!'”
Don't be the person who wishes the present away waiting on a future that might never come? So, the next time it rains... play in it: when it snows... enjoy it: find the next celestial event on the calendar: then, be willing to lose a little sleep and while holding hands with the one you love... enjoy it together.
Whatever your goals and aspirations are... begin today living your life trying to accomplish those dreams... so that when there is no more life to be lived... it can never truly be said of you: “For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been!'”
Don't allow your life to become a “... might have been life?”
You can always email me at clarkmatthews1@aol.com
posted by Robin Johnson @ 1:25 AM
