Grand Vistas of Lights

Grand Vista of Lights                    

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I once enjoyed flying more than these days.  Yet all the same, it is a way to travel great distances in a relatively short period.  There was two differences in our travels this year.  One, I sat by the window.  And two, the sky was clear.  Normally the aircraft takes us above the clouds and the world is pretty much hidden as we travel.  Our non-stop to Florida left after dark on a Saturday evening.  I watched the lights of South Bend as we rose skyward.  At first I could see the cars on the streets and the light spilling out of the homes, we passed over.  As our altitude grew, soon the moving white and red could no longer be discerned, but the street lights, line after line of them, remained visible.

From our cruising altitude of 34,000 feet the lights remained clear, bluish white pinpricks dotting the ink below.  I do not know how far the horizon might be from that height, but the lights spread as far as I could see.   Some scattered randomly, others following distinct patterns.  I found myself amazed at the sheer number – the thousands upon thousands of lights.

As I looked mesmerized at the view below I considered the lights.  To me the lights represented people.  For surely there would be no lights needed if no one lived in those areas.  I thought about all the people that at that moment were below me.  I wondered how many, if any, realized that a plane load of passengers crossed over head.  For as we flew toward our destination we passed over thousands – perhaps millions of people living their lives.  There may be some that noticed the flashing beacons crossing the dark sky, but most would be oblivious to our aircraft on its journey.  There were those at the dinner table, others with their attention glued to the TV, a few reading, some moving about in their automobiles, and I have no doubt others in bed.  People living their lives.  People scattered across countryside, cities, and towns.  So many lights – and more people.  Young people, old people, and all the ages between. 

Yes, that night, the lights revealed, that we passed over many people, all types of people.  And that thought came to me there as I looked out of the window of a plane at six and a half miles up.  For too often we pigeonhole people – like they were no more than different colored light bulbs.  We label people:  protestant – catholic, white –black, European – Asian, and hundreds of other categories used to separate.  We considers those like us – and those we see as different, and value others accordingly.

Is that right or fair?  What yardstick would we wish to be measured?  How are we viewed by others?  For each of us is an individual and each of us carry a unique-ness.  For people are like snowflakes – no two are alike.  It is this distinctive-ness that combined with the distinctive-ness of others which forms a society of grand possibilities.  Difference is difference – respected but not be feared.

So as I traveled across a dark sky seeing the grand vista of lights below and stars above, I once more understood, that in our unique-ness we are all different -- but in our human-ness we are all the same!

 (553 Words)

Where I Belong

Where I Belong                                

By John W. Vander Velden

We wonder what our place might be.  In any moment we find ourselves in a changing environment, how we react to the things and people around us shape not only our perceptions of ourselves, but also the view others have of us.  Though we should never dwell on the image we project, how can we, as mere human, avoid it?  Times when we find ourselves in our “comfort zone” surrounded by those things and people we know best, little we do in any given moment change the opinions of others dramatically…”he’s just having a bad day”.  But when we find ourselves injected into a new “world” then it becomes very easy to “walk on eggshells”, and in doing so, never show who we really are. 

Those situations seem to thrust us back into the old “high school” mentality…how do we fit in?  We watch the eyes of those nearby…the “the windows of the soul”…and notice the blinks that seem to come too often, which we feel reveal thoughts of others.  Thoughts we may misunderstand.  But in that misinterpretation, we change our actions with the hope of correcting some flaw that may not have been a problem in the first place.  At times, causing the isolation which had not existed before our response. 

How do we fit in?  It is the question we all ask.  But can you force-fit yourself into the “pigeon box” too small or find comfort in one too large?  The honest answer is no!    However we rarely acknowledge the honest truth.  Each has this essential need to “fit in” and every one goes to great lengths, to at least appear, to be part of the masses.

 If I take whole situation and make it personal, I must trust that core truth above.  I fit in the place I belong.  Not that this is some geographical local.  No, it is much more than some place…it is in the constantly changing environment or world I pass through.  I am who I am…no more…but certainly not less.  I am accepted or cast aside…but as I am.  Best that you know the real me.  Best you understand the things that make the real me.  But you may not appreciate the place from where I come.  You may not appreciate the man those things have built.  And that’s OK.  For if I “bend” myself for your approval then I have failed myself.  I trust those that have, over the years, come to know me.  Those closest that have seen the “warts” and do not flee.  It is they that are truly the indicator of my worth.  It is they that show me where I fit…where I belong. 

(449 Words)

Around and Back

Around and Back                             

By John W. Vander Velden

 

One Sunday as I left for Church, my neighbor’s beagle burst out of the brush on the other side of my road, dashed across my yard, running full speed, sniffing and yelping.  He ran a loop around my ash tree, then went full speed across my drive and the length of the yard before heading into the brush on the opposite side of the road some thirty yards west of where he had come.  I just shook my head.  The animal was, as I am told most beagles are, rabbit crazy.

When I returned some hours later, I got to witness the whole event again.  The coming out of the wild and woolly,  the high pace run, loop and all, the barking and sniffing, and the trek across my property to the exact point of departure as before.  Who knew how many times Charley had run the circuit, or if somewhere a bunny watched in amusement. 

Charley continued the pursuit of his prey, certain that he would capture the errant beast whose scent marked the way.  The dog had no doubt – not in the least – that he remained “hot on the trail”, as around and back he continued.  I suspect that the rabbit, fortunately, had slipped aside and one over confident beagle raced passed and onward – again…

We find humor in the actions of a beagle named Charley.  But there is something to be learned about ourselves from the dog.  We like Charley, do not realize that we race down the same road again, as we hurry toward some goal or joy just beyond our reach.  We feel certain that we will capture that which we pursue.  So intent are we upon that quest, it goes unnoticed that we have gone around and back – perhaps several times.  And like Charley only abandon the chase when exhaustion or frustration overcome our desire.

I believe we should chase our dreams – just as Charley might chase his rabbit.  But I think we should do so with intelligence, and not just run headlong after a slowly fading scent.  That dreams require full engagement, if there is any hope that they might be reached, but that engagement does not mean to be blind to the fact that “you have been here” before!

There are times we all act a little like Charley.  At least he hadn’t given up on his dream – and neither should we.  I am certain that many times I have gone around and back – and around again!  Perhaps I still am….

(419 Words)

The Sycamore Tree

The Sycamore Tree

By John w. Vander Velden

 

Alas poor Sycamore, I knew you well.

But a sapling at our first meeting,

Limbs reaching skyward.

How tall and proud you became,

Grand sentinel of the yard.

Broad your branches that freely offered shade and shelter.

But the storm proved too much,

And your strength insufficient.

Torn and shredded, only a remnant remained,

Now that too has come down.

Though only a stump remains,

Dear friend, you live in our memory.

As we mourn the passing of one we knew so well.

(84 Words)

July Fourth

              

July Fourth

John W. Vander Velden

In a grand building, beneath a heavy layer of glass, remains a deeply yellowed page of parchment.  The writing scarcely legible of words many would find familiar.  A page that changed the way the world functioned…a page that changed how a people would react to tyranny.  July 2, 1776 fifty-six representatives of thirteen separate organizations signed a statement…a joint commitment to what at that time was an ongoing war…a joint commitment to a severing of ties…a joint commitment to something new.  We call those words…those words of faded ink on yellowed paper the Declaration of Independence.  And today we celebrate the announcement of those daring words and the birth of the nation we call our home.

Two hundred and forty-seven years ago after much heated debate Edward Rutledge at twenty-six and Benjamin Franklin who had reached seventy, along with the fifty-four, aged the years between, placed their names on paper.  All knew that day, if the war would be lost, they had signed their own death certificate, yet they signed.  All understood that no matter how just the cause, success was tentative, yet they signed. 

But those names are but tiniest minority of the thousands that laid their all at the feet of their country yet unformed.  They, the invisible masses, those that fought…bleed…and died, bore the burden; theirs the labor pains of this country’s birth.  Our country owes these, a debt that remains unpaid.  We that have received the benefit of their sacrifice should not forget the courage or the blood poured.   

So while the firework fills the sky, with thunderous booms and grand bursts of color, take a moment to consider a document on display at the National Archives.  Consider the names carefully scribed upon it.  Consider the thousands that gave their all for something that was then only a dream.  Consider the millions that also gave and continue to give their blood to maintain that dream, for though that dream has yet to reach perfection the duty for its growth lies with us.  It remains on our shoulders to carry on…to accept the challenge…to fulfill grand possibilities.  It is a cause worthy of our effort and something worth celebrating!    

(370 Words)

7-4-2023