Things I used to do, but now......

Things I used to do, but now…

The other day I was headed into town and saw a young 30-ish something guy jogging up the highway with a smooth, effortless stride.  I used to jog like that.

On a trip to North Carolina this past spring, we were traveling on I-26 where the Appalachian Tail crosses I-26 at Sam’s Gap.  Several young men, obviously serious backpackers, were crossing the highway with their walking sticks, carrying backpacks that looked like they weighed 40 pounds, moving  north with a determined pace.  No doubt, their intent was to reach Mt. Katadin, Maine before the October snow flies. I used to backpack like that.

This fall, I saw some young boys playing touch football in a neighbor’s yard.  They were running “full throttle” jumping and dodging each other with wild abandon and enjoying every minute of their play.  I used to play like that.

I watched my 40 something son, father of three young children, who had worked a full nine hour day, then driven 200 miles after work with his four year old son; arrive at our home around eleven p.m., still wide awake and in a good mood.  I used to be able to do that.

Other things I used to do, but now it's different………

·         I used to be able to stay up late and get up early the next day, ready for whatever came my way.

o       Now if I stay up late I can’t get up early.  Even when I get up, it takes a while to get going and I’m ready for a break in about an hour.

·         When I used to eat too much and pick up a few extra pounds; I could usually cut back, exercise and drop those extra pounds just as easily.

o       Now I continue to pick up those extra pounds and they just seem to hang around my middle.  It takes a lot of exercise and fasting to shed any pounds at all.

·         I used to be able to drive 500+  miles and stop only to fill up the car with gas and take a potty break.

o       Now I have to stop about every hour to stretch those stiff joints and empty my bladder.

·         I used to grow a half-acre vegetable garden that included two or three varieties of corn, three types of green beans, three kinds of squash, carrots, onions, okra, sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, peanuts, egg plant, cabbage, tomatoes, some pumpkins, and bell peppers.

o       This last summer my garden consisted of two bell pepper plants, three tomato plants, eight stalks of okra, and some strawberries; all in six - 4’x 8’ raised beds.

·         I used to be able to work all week, putting in 10-12 hours of job related work each day, then attend meetings in the evenings, as well as helping take care of our kids, do all the yard and garden work, take care of the dogs, teach a Sunday School class and help with a Boy Scout Troop and still watched a little TV in the evening.

o        Now if I can stick it out, I might get in six good hours of work in a day and my community and church involvement is down to about one committee and one volunteer job.  When I do sit down to watch TV I usually go to sleep.

·         I used to be able to get up at the crack of dawn, drive an hour to a starting point with ten young boys, take them on a 10 mile day hike that gained 2,000 feet in elevation and still get home by supper time.

o       Today I seldom take a hike, especially with kids, and if I do it is just for a few miles with little or no elevation change.  My  knees can’t take it!

·         I used to go to the doctor once a year for a physical examination and didn’t take any medication until I was around age fifty.

o       Today my calendar is filled with regularly scheduled appointments with my GP, heart specialists, dermatologist, and my dentist.  I take five pills at breakfast, eight more at dinner and two before I go to bed.

 Well, you’re getting the idea aren’t you?  Life changes for us as we age and about all we can do is adapt and make the best of it.  It is a fact, we can’t travel as far or as fast as we used to when we were younger. 

I remember a great uncle who used to visit our home when I was a kid.  His wife always joked that my uncle’s head was somehow connected to a switch in his butt.  Within just a few minutes after sitting down, his head would drop down and he would be asleep.  It was funny back then, but I can see that day coming before too long.

In the meantime, I guess I’ll just keep letting words tumbling out of my head into this blog spot.  Maybe it will keep my brain from freezing up.

Now, let’s ramble!

The Greater Good?

The Greater Good?

 I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the compulsion throughout my entire life that I needed to do something to contribute to the “greater good” of mankind.  The term “greater good” is defined in different ways, but I’ve always defined the “greater good” as contributing or doing something for others that is greater than your own selfish or personal interest. 

Lately, with the arrival of full retirement, diminished health, and the fact that that age separation has moved me to the fringe of active participation in much of life’s dynamics, I’m wondering more and more about my life-long “greater good” compulsion. 

I cannot remember ever being taught that this was something I was supposed to do, but somehow this compulsion became a part of my very being.  My grandmother raised me, she was a “working person and a giving person” who really didn’t have much to give in the way of material things.  My mother was my friend and support during childhood; she too, was a giving person who would give someone her last dollar.  So maybe this is where I got this idea of doing things for the “greater good” of society.

My grandmother and mother were always doing something to help others; taking food, doing church mission work, helping with children’s ministries, teaching Sunday School, taking old folks places they couldn’t drive themselves, picking up hitchhikers, visiting the sick, and of course, giving financially to our church and benevolent causes.

During my 38 year career in public and private education I always felt I was doing something that was greater than myself;  helping kids learn things that would benefit their personal life and make life better, coping with bad homes or poor parenting and helping kids to ultimately make positive contributions to society.

 My concept of “greater good” included a commitment to a local church.  Throughout my adult life, wherever I found myself, Florida, North Carolina, and Tennessee, I’ve always been involved in teaching Sunday School classes to kids and adults, mission outreach ministry, serving on committees, serving as a deacon, and of course, giving financially to support the church.

This “greater good” compulsion even carried over to my community where I felt compelled to engage in a parallel universe from church and school, the business community.  I’d been an individual member of the Chamber of Commerce for many years, but became deeply engaged in its efforts, serving on the Board of Directors, serving as president, spearheading efforts to serve the community’s needs and promote economic development.  Servant leadership was not just a catch phrase, but I believed in it and actively engaged in the Chamber’s adult leadership program and youth leadership programs for many years. 

After retirement, I still felt compelled to engage in the “greater good” for our community by running for an elected office.  I’d felt that it was something I needed to do and was encouraged by friends to do so, but initially denied “the call” to do it.  Despite my denial, three years after retirement the feeling returned and I ultimately campaigned, and won one of the commission seats in my district.  Serving on the County Commission one year and serving for three years as Commission Chairman was probably the most demanding thing I’ve ever done in my life. 

Serving in an elected office was a learning experience and I found trying to serve for the “greater good”  a most challenging thing.  In the political arena, the “greater good” and its alter ego “self service” cross swords every day.  For those elected officials who truly strive to serve the “greater good” there are no words to really describe the personal effort it takes to make decisions for the “greater good” because everyone thinks their side is the “greater good.”

So here I am, out of the loop, looking at those younger folks still in the arena of life and wondering if my life-long compulsion to serve the “greater good” was worth a Tinker’s dam.   You know, worthless or insignificant.

Boy, this line of thinking is a downhill slide and I’m picking up speed.  The pull of negative thoughts can really put you in a hole.  But wait, maybe the “greater good” concept was just the lubricant that's helped me on my journey. 

I’ve always believed that life is simply a journey.  The destination is important, but it is often the journey that brings meaning and enjoyment.  I bet you’ve had the same experience.  You plan a trip, make the trip, see the sights, enjoy the destination; only to arrive back home and feel a little let down. 

That may be where I am at this point in my life.  I’ve been on a journey for these 70+ years, motivated by the “greater good” lubricant of life and I’ve really enjoyed it.  Now, as I’ve sorta arrived back home, the major part of my life journey is over and I feel a little let down.

There is a quote that goes something like, “Don’t forget what happened, but understand that you cannot move forward while looking backwards.”  Guess that is where I am today.  The journey is not over until it’s over and it ain’t over yet, so I need to quit looking backwards and look forward.

I’m reminded of a story that came out of WW II.  The Allied forces were moving into France, village by village, town by town, driving the German forces inland.  As the Allied troops approached one small village an old French grandma came out of her house, holding a broom high above her head and waving it at the retreating German forces.  One of the passing G.I.s said to her, “Go back inside old lady, you can’t do anything with just a broom.”  To which she replied, “No I can’t, but I can show which side I’m on!”

Even though I don’t really understand what the “greater good” fully means, I do think I know which side I’m on.   I think I’ll just keep plugging ahead with that same life lubricant.  You gotta grease the skids with something and the “greater good” has kept me moving forward thus far.

Now, let’s ramble!

Distant Memories Part II .......a boy, a man, a war and a family

Part II....a boy, a man, a war and a family

Many, like Tom Brokaw, have written about World War II and the Greatest Generation that the war produced.  I think Tom is right, the survivors were an amazing generation of "can do" individuals.  On the other hand, WW II took a lot from many families in the United States and countries all over the world.  That is the “Hell part” of war that we don’t like to talk about, the personal loss to millions of people.  Those lost lives impacted the lives of wives, parents, and of course, their children. It is estimated that the deaths of more than 406,000 men left an estimated 183,000 American children fatherless.  I can identify with that loss.

Since I never met my dad, I wondered a lot about what he was like as a person, but had little information to hang my hat on.  Despite that lack of information, I think my needs for a dad were met by others in the family.  My grandmother was my “father figure” at home, and there were always uncles and other male role models who influenced me at school and church.  Even the dads of my close friends became role models for me.  As a result, I think I adopted the roles and behaviors that seemed to work best for me. 

I have gleaned a little insight into my dad’s family and the type of man he was from folks who knew him.  He was born in the small town of Rockwood, Tennessee, just down the road from where I grew up.  He had two older brothers, Clarence, the oldest, and Jim, the middle boy.  Clarence followed his father’s career path and stayed in Kentucky , mined coal, and met an early death from a mining accident.  Jim is the only one I really knew.  Uncle Jim lived in Harriman, was a barber, lived to be 94,  a bit unusual and quaint, but a good man.  Jim never owned a car during his 94 years, but he once told me he had a job as a young man driving a truck.  I learned that my dad’s mom played the piano and guitar.  None of the three boys got much education beyond 7^th or 8^th grade.  Uncle Jim said they moved so much they hardly got started in school before they had to move to another town.  The moves apparently happened due to his dad’s occupation as a coal miner, coupled with a drinking problem.  He apparently was a skilled coal miner and had no trouble getting jobs and moved frequently throughout the coal mining regions of Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee.  Both of dad’s parents died fairly young; his mom with a stroke, around age 50 and his dad soon afterwards from pneumonia. This was just shortly before Ruby and Phillip were married. 

My dad worked at different jobs as a teenager, but was working as a knitter in the Burlington Hosiery Mill in Harriman when he met Ruby.  Aunt Cammie, Jim’s wife, as well as my Uncle CT say that my dad was easy to get along with.  He must have had a friendly personality and was easy to get to know.  He made friends with a British family living in Wilts, England while he was stationed there during the War.  That family sent me a birthday card on my 1st birthday.  They also sent me two stuffed animals, a black Scottie dog and a teddy bear dressed like Uncle Sam. I still have the Scottie dog tucked away in a storage chest.

My mom and dad met at a recreation hall in Harriman where he worked part-time after his mill shift.  He proposed to Ruby one day and they were married almost immediately.  Ruby said she was afraid that if she waited, he might change his  mind. They were married by a Justice of the Peace on Ruby’s lunch hour in a downtown department store in Harriman.  Their life together lasted less than a year before he was drafted and sent to boot camp in Georgia.  They were married in June 1941 and he went to boot camp in April 1942. 

I don’t know about my dad’s spiritual dimension, but Ruby said he was saved through the efforts of her mother’s witnessing to him.  I can certainly see my grandmother Zena talking to him about his salvation.  She is the one who talked to me about my own relationship with God when I was a young boy of seven or eight.

When you grow up with no physical memories of your father and few tangible artifacts, sometimes you begin to doubt what you've been told.  You begin to wonder.... "Was he really my father?"  "Was I adopted?" "Are these people raising me really my family?"  

In recent months, grandson Luke has gotten me interested in exploring our family tree.  Via the technology of Ancestry.com, visitation to cemetery sites, and shared information from archival sources we’re piecing together an interesting web of the Kindred family tree.  For the first time in my life I am catching a glimpse of my past and the lives of my Kindred ancestors.  It has given me a better sense of who I am and what it means to be a part of a family I never really knew.

As I’ve grow older I have begun to realize that a lot of the "stuff" I thought was so important in my youth is really not worth much.  It is only our relationships with others that seem to have real value.  Someone once told me that everybody we encounter becomes a small part of us and I think that is probably true.  But of course, it is our family relationships that shape our individual profiles and make us who we truly are.

My wife talks a lot about “creating memories” with our children and grandchildren and I think she is right.  As we live each day we are creating memories.  As we love our family, we are creating memories.  As we learn from our experiences, we are creating memories.  As we spend time with our family members we are creating relationships that will endure.  All of these memorable experiences shape the legacy each of us will leave. 

May the Kindred legacy be a good one!

Now let’s ramble!

Distant Memories ……of a boy, a man, a war and a family

Part I  .....a boy, a man. a war. and a family

My mind contains no real memories of my dad.  I was conceived before he left to go over seas at the height of America’s involvement in WW II.  I was born while he was still there.  He died on the battlefield at Saint Lo in France.  My memories of my dad come from, events related to the return of his body and the insights I’ve gained from those who knew him during the brief 24 years of his life.

My first strong memories from my early years are seeing my mother kneeling at our living room sofa crying uncontrollably for long periods of time.  This may have been when she received news of dad’s death from the War Department telegram or it may have been when the family received news of her brother’s death.  One of mom’s brothers who was killed when the submarine, Wahoo, was lost in the Sea of Japan.  In our immediate family it seems like everyone went off to fight in the War; my mother’s two brothers, K.B. and C.T., my Dad, and my mother’s sister’s husband, John Stair.  Two of them returned from the war, two did not.

The second strong memory about my dad is related to the return of his body some time after the end of the War.  I was not aware of it, but the event got a lot of local publicity because his was the first veteran’s body to be returned to Roane County.  Thus, the return of a veteran who had been killed in the War was symbolic for many folks.  A lot of local families had lost a son, a father, or a husband during the War.  I remember riding in a black car out to the railroad station a mile or so out of town where the casket was to arrive.  This was not the local passenger depot, but a small freight stop on the main rail line that ran along the banks of the Emory River.  A narrow gravel road led to that point, not far from where the railroad trestle crosses the River.  I remember the train stopping and the casket, draped with the American flag, being unloaded from a freight car and placed in a hearse. 

 

I don’t recall anything about a funeral service, but I vividly remember the traditional military graveside ceremony; standing at the grave side, seeing the honor guard fold the flag and hand it to my mom.  I remember hearing the loud report from the rifles; seeing the smoke and smelling the burned powder when the honor guard fired the 21 gun salutes.  I remember hearing the sad somber sounds of taps as a bugler played those familiar notes.  Even to this very day, I feel an emotional fullness whenever I hear taps played.

As I grew through my childhood years I came to discover some articles that belonged to my dad:  a guitar, a harmonica holder, and a .22 caliber single-shot bolt action rifle.  From the personal effects returned by the Army we had a blood stained watch with no crystal; the hands frozen at 7:45, a few letters, a pipe and tobacco pouch, and a well worn Western Union telegram sent on August 25^th stating “THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR HUSBAND PRIVATE FIRST CLASS PHILLIP C.  KINDRED WAS KILLED IN ACTION ON SIXTEEN JULY IN FRANCE….LETTER FOLLOWS….J.A. ULIO.”

Later, mother received an official letter from the War Department and a Purple Heart Medal with a written citation.  From these few items I knew that my dad had some musical ability and had enjoyed playing the guitar and harmonica.  The rifle indicated he liked to hunt and perhaps enjoyed the outdoors.  The Purple Heart has always been a reminder of his sacrifice for our country.

On my 31^st Father’s Day, my wife and my two sons had the letters and Purple Heart appropriately mounted and framed for display.  They hang in our family room now, not only as historical artifacts, but as tangible reminders of one family’s sacrifice during a time of war.

As I’ve reflected on this personal loss over a lifetime I’ve concluded that it matters little which war a loved one died in, what country he lived in, or what political persuasion he supported, the end result of a war in its simplest terms is always the same.  “War is hell” for those who lose a loved one. 

The  “War is Hell,”  quote is attributed to William Tecumseh Sherman, a Union Army general during the American Civil War.  This quote originates from his address to the graduating class of the Michigan Military Academy (19 June 1879), young men who had yet to ever fight in a war.  His quote is reported as follows.  “I’ve been where you are now and I know just how you feel. It’s entirely natural that there should beat in the breast of every one of you a hope and desire that some day you can use the skill you have acquired here.  Suppress it! You don’t know the horrible aspects of war. I’ve been through two wars and I know. I’ve seen cities and homes in ashes. I’ve seen thousands of men lying on the ground, their dead faces looking up at the skies. I tell you, war is Hell!

From a personal perspective, I think General Sherman had it right.

 

Now, let's ramble.

 

 

Is Christmas Back in a Box?

Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus are back in storage boxes.

Wise men, shepherds, and angels find shelter in a closet.

The tree ornaments are removed, the tree is disassembled;

Its lights and branches resting for another three-season nap.

The snowmen still cling to shelves and window ledges,

Awaiting the end of winter, as determined by their owner.

They too will ultimately find hidden refuge in boxes, hibernating

In the dark cool recesses of closets and under-the-bed storage boxes.

 

The lawn ornaments disappeared, exterior spotlights are extinguished and

Silver and gold balls are removed from our outdoor Spruce tree, letting it

Return to normal, awaiting spring when it will put out a flush of new green.

It awaits the mockingbirds that will build a nest and raise another brood of singers.

 

The old year has passed, the New Year has arrived.

At the stroke of mid-night,  another countdown began with anticipation and hope

That things will be better in this New Year; less fighting, more cooperation, cures for

 

Cancer, more hugs, less cursing,  more laughter, less weeping, less fear and perhaps, peace.

 

Is peace possible in 2014 if after Christmas we keep Jesus in a box till next year?

Could it be that to have peace in the New Year we must keep Jesus in our hearts?

 

~ Wishing you Hope, Joy, Love & Peace this New Year of 2014. ~