Beginnings and Endings

Beginnings and Endings 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Through my life I have had many chances to see the sun’s rising and sets.  The windows of the milking parlor faced east so there were very few mornings when the sun’s advent went unnoticed.  However for the same reasons I needed to make the effort to, on most occasions, see the sun depart from the western sky.  As a photographer I need to understand light.  Sunsets are different than sunrises.  The sky is cooler in the morning and the colors tend to be as well.

 

But long days taught me more than the color of the fading sky.  It taught me about beginnings and endings.  People are mortal beings.  We are born and die.  Beginnings and endings seem so much of our lives.  We measure days, weeks, month, and years.  Arbitrary slices of this thing we call time.  Time matters to us…excessively. 

Even so throughout our lives, we deal with beginnings and endings.  Our first day at kindergarten to our final graduation.  The first day at our first real job until retirement. The first kiss to our tearful parting. Each thing has its beginning…and its ending.  Thoughts about endings make us morbid.  We place too much emphasis on the beginning and the ending, that we forget all the between.  Yes, the light of day begins with the sun’s rising and ends when the orb sinks below the horizon…but it is the in-between…all the hours, minutes, moments of life that matter.  The sun’s advent and departure might be sights to behold, but make up such a small part of the day.  Is it not the same with all things?  Captivated by fresh new beginnings we overlook the miracles in each moment.  Fearful of endings, we can stagnate unable to see the joy that surrounds us…now.  Yes, life is filled with beginnings and endings, but it is the grand in-betweens in which we live.

And I see another lesson, hard learned.  The sunset ends the daylight portion of the day… but the day goes on.  We have picked midnight for the instant of one day’s end and the next one’s beginning.  But in truth time flows along from dark to light to dark again.  Much like a stream of water.  The day does not truly end, it’s just the way we keep track.  So I take you back to the beginning of this post, or near the beginning in any case…to our mortality.  I have no doubt that my ability to breathe does not, exclusively, frame my existence.  I am certain that I was alive before February 8th 1952, my birthday.  I have confidence that I will live long after my heart pumps its last beat.  Endings are not always…endings.  Most times they are gateways to something different, maybe something better…maybe lots better. 

So I should take hold of each day, with gratitude, and live it.  That I do what I can to help others…at this moment.  To be kind.  To try to understand.  To be someone’s friend.  To share the love I have been given.  To be patient, as much as I’m able.  To look forward to new opportunities that will certainly come along.  To recognize that change is not the enemy.  To be fully engaged in life…each and every moment of it.  And to care…really care.  

I should not dwell upon all the beginnings I have seen…but I probably will.  Kinda’ human don’t you think?   But as I draw a breath and look forward to all the things that lie ahead…I do not fear.  For life is filled with beginnings…and endings…and beginnings again… 

(603 Words)         7-26-2016

 

 

 

Been Thinkin' About Christmas

Been Thinkin’ About….Christmas

By John W. Vander Velden

When December rolls around our thoughts seem focused on Christmas.  It seems that the holiday is an important part of everyone’s year…and that’s good…or at least it can be.  But so much of what is tied to Christmas overwhelms us all.  We should be prepared for even in January we understand that December brings Christmas but…well it’s life isn’t it.

So what does the holiday mean to you?  There are the gifts, and meals, and of course Ho, Ho, Ho, in the red suit.  There is family and friends, and people, well most people, seem just a little more cheerful.  Charities get a boost in December as well.  All these things are good.  But what does Christmas mean to you?  That’s what I asked when I opened this paragraph, and it is what really what matters, don’t you think.  Each of us brings something different to the table when it come to the holidays, and it is the blend of all these differences that make the holidays special.

I listed some of the things that come to mind around Christmas time.  Certainly there are other things as well.  And each of them is good…good on their own merit.  But they are not really the center of the season.  Most are “side effects” from what Christmas is.  You know where I’m going, and we’ll get there later.  For all the stuff that we tie to Christmas…all the obligations…all the purchases…all the drama…all the everything, can cloud what Christmas really means, what Christmas is really about.  We get so overwhelmed we don’t take the time to just think about Christmas…the real, cold no room at the hotel child in a manger, Christmas.  And even that is only part of the magnificent story.  I am always reminded of the tale Paul Harvey told each December, “The Story of the Birds”.  I remember hearing it year after year and each time the message rang so true.  You see the old man attempted to save the birds but couldn’t.  No matter how he tried he could not convince them that to go into the barn and survive the winter storm.  I loved the story though I had heard it many times and knew the powerful line that revealed its meaning…”If only I was a bird, I could show them the way…”

That’s Christmas.  God chose to send his Son to become one of us…to show us the way.  You see all those other “side effects” are good things, when we tie them to the real source.  But we cannot let them get in the way of “Christmas”.  For at its core Christmas is about love…”for God so loved the world he sent his Son”…to save us.  God loves you, God loves me…and we should love each other.  When we really get to the center of it, that’s all there is to Christmas…and there’s nothing more to think about.

(496 Words)     12-18-2016

Christmas Letter 2016

Christmas 2016

 

 

Once we have gone to the Purdue Christmas Show, I know it’s time to begin writing the “letter”.  So here it is early December, and the year is racing toward its conclusion, and I reach out to our family and friends to let them know just a bit of our experiences of the year. 

We moved Nick into his studio apartment last January.  It is fortunate that I will never meet the architect of the building that made stairways too small for any “real” furniture.  It took more than a fair share of push and grunt to wedge in the sofa and mattress, etc.  When we de-furnitured in May I “block and tackled” the “stuff” over the deck’s rail.  Not easy but much easier.  Just how much stuff does a guy need to live in West Lafayette anyway?  A lot it seems.  Nothing that a U-Haul and a couple of strong backs can’t handle…Hmmm…

Enough about moving and the complications thereof.  Winter passed and Jackie and I decided to go to a new place for our vacation.  Introduced to Amelia Island, Florida by the travel channel it seemed just the ticket. And it was.  We spent a delightful week in March on the sea shore, wandering quaint shops and strolling miles of beach in what can only be described as perfect weather.  Amelia Island is one of those places we hope to return.  Not next year you understand but one day.

Spring brought so many of the normal things that we have dealt with year to year.  The farmer did what farmers do, prepare soil and plant his crop.  It was my forty-fifth crop and I decided it would be my last.  Forty-five is a nice number don’t you think, and time has come to let the next generation take the forefront. 

Nick finished his semester at Purdue and started his fourth rotation at Zimmer-BioMet.  So a busy spring turned into a busy summer.  A spur-of-the- moment getaway found Jackie and me along the “Third Coast”, the western shore of Michigan.  Four days using Ludington as our base camp is a great way to leave the everyday behind…for a while.  We walked the shoreline to Big Sable Lighthouse.  Our third visit to the structure.  It takes determined sightseers to walk the two miles to reach one of the tallest lighthouses in Michigan.  Jackie and I feel so very fortunate we live so close to Lake Michigan, with its wide variety of activities.  Throughout the summer we spent several days at one of the shore towns from New Buffalo to Frankfort.  Whether it is to see the tulips in Holland or the SS Badger leave Ludington with the setting sun, we enjoy all that the “Third Coast” has to offer.  

Summer turned to fall and fall has its own normalcy and strangeness.  Leaves, you know them, pretty as they turn gold, red, and brown.  We watch them fly and settle and then go about dealing with them.  Sunday afternoons we go into Plymouth and “deal” with them.   It seems to fill the month of October and November.  That's probably an exaggeration.  But we do our best to please the city by raking them to the curb.  Perhaps one day I will find myself raked to the curb.  Not soon you understand, but…well maybe not.  Fall means harvest, and harvest is kinda’ like final exams.  You never know how well you’ve done your job until the grain is in the bin.  Yields have been good to great but muddy fields make it difficult to get the crop out.  Been there done that all before so I know…someday I’ll finish this crop too.  Poor Jackie, she has to deal with a husband that continues to “chomp at the bit”, as the muddiness seems only to get muddier.  Bless her heart, she has, over the last twenty-seven years, learned that “this too will pass” and when the ground freezes things will move again.  

Speaking of my beloved, she continues to work at Martin’s Super Market in Plymouth.  Now after eighteen months with this new employer, she feels confident that, overall, it was a good move.  The thirty plus years of serving Plymouth has made her more important to those she serves than she herself realizes.  Her schedule gives us the opportunity to go on exploring day trips.  Nick is finishing the semester at Purdue, pursuing his degree in Mechanical Engineering.  January finds him in his final co-op rotation working in Warsaw, Indiana.  He then will face three sessions at the university back to back with graduation, if all goes to plan, in May of 2018.  Though the studies have been hard, he loves living in this apartment, a reasonable walk from classes.  The golfer doesn’t mind the walk.   

That pretty much catches you up with what the Vander Veldens of the greater Tyner-Teegarden area have been up to.  So as I sit at the keyboard, a place I spend way too much time, I think about all our friends near and far.  It is my hope that all is well with you and yours, and that Christmas is all it can be.  I hope that you remember, amid all the craziness of the holiday season, that Christmas is about love.  For God so loved each of us that he sent His Son into the world.  A baby born of peasants in a stable, a child that grew to the man in order to show us the way to salvation.  Jesus taught us about God…and about love…ultimate love.  So have a very Merry Christmas.

 

With our love,

 

Jackie, John, and Nick too!

 

 

 

    

Foot Off the Throttle

Foot Off the Throttle 

By John W. Vander Velden

I work for myself.  And working for myself means I have to decide how I get things done.  It also means that there is no one else to do it.  Everyone deals with their obligations in their own way, but there is always so much that needs to be done.  Though I have been fortunate to have lived my life out and about, surrounded by the wonders of the world, the pace that drives me has given little time to take in the continuous daily wonders.  It’s kinda’ like eating.  Like wolfing down food because you need to “eat ta live” but not really tasting it.  The banquet has been always within reach, but time, it seems, insufficient.  This morning I paused just a moment…only a moment…to take in the wonder of the fog that lay in each dip of the fields.  The sun rose a bright sphere cutting through golden fog.  It took my breath away.  It reminded me of the thousands of mornings I have shared space, but rarely shared...really shared.  Even now I am multi-tasking.  While I write, a wagon is filling with corn to take to the elevator.  I can see the wagon from where I sit at this keyboard.  

Sorry have to go, the wagons almost full. 

I’m back. 

The thing is that all the years I have driven myself as hard as I can.  It’s hard to decelerate.  Even now when the years have slowed these bones, I am angered that I just don’t move as quickly as I used to.  But pushing keeps these bones a moving and I prefer moving to the alternative.  But maybe the time is come that I need to take my foot off the throttle…just a little.  To take the time to taste the flavor of each day.  To breathe in…deeply…and notice really notice the air that surrounds me.  I know I have earned the right, but I need to convince myself I deserve to simply take the time.  It seems, to me, greedy to indulge.  There is after all so much to do.  Time for leisure…well that’s not me.  Oh I take a day off now and then but regularly…naw…. But maybe I should. 

Even now as I move from one phase of my life to another there are obligations.  People look to me to “get things done”, maybe because I can.  I don’t expect to just sit in a rocker and watch the world pass by.  But I might like to move a bit slower…not to go full throttle all the time.  I’ll think on it but for now, I’ve got to go the other wagon is nearly full.  Then to the elevator.  Then maybe lunch. When I get back from lunch I will open the vents and start the dryer. Then fill the wagons again and off to the elevator.  Hopefully the dryer will be done when I return so I can refill it.  And of course a few “odd duck” small jobs in the between time…hmmm.   You get the idea…  Maybe I should take my foot off the throttle…just not today.   

(527 Words)  11-26-2016

It's Not Easy Bein' a Cat

 It’s Not Easy Bein’ a Cat

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I’m here to tell you it isn’t easy being a cat.  First off cats don’t get any respect.  Just look at me.  Strong and lean.  I mean I can jump nearly ten time my height for cryin’ out loud.  I move without a sound and can see in total darkness.  Well maybe not total darkness, but close.  My razor sharp teeth and retractable claws make me the perfect predator.  And I’m a Tom through and though.  Just ask the ladies next door.  But what do people call me?  Fluffy.  Fluffy…you have got to be kidding.  Me Fluffy…  Well I do have thick fur but have you ever heard a stud Rocwelier called Fluffy?  I didn’t think so.  He’s not a cat.  Then there is the litter box…a litter box…like only one and they keep it in the cellar.  A guy nearly has to pack a lunch when nature calls.  These people that take up space in my house, you know the tall one and the not quite so tall one...they go by…well some names or other.  It really isn’t important.  But these people have two bathrooms.  Like they can’t share or something.  And they keep their potties in real handy places.  It’s not like they have to go down the stairs and around the corner…noooo.  And you think it was a felony if I hack up a little bit of hair a couple times a day.  Like I said the fur is long and I’ve got to keep up an image for the girls.  I don’t shine by accident. No, it takes work and time too.  It also seems I can’t go anywhere.  What’s the big deal of wandering around on the kitchen counter, or checking out what the tall one has on his plate?  But what really pulls my tail is that at night they don’t even let me sleep on the not so tall one’s face.  How can a cat find a comfortable place to bed down…sheesh.  I can’t tell you how often I have been chucked to the floor. 

What does it take to please these people?  Just last summer I brought a ground squirrel into the house.  You would have thought by the screaming I had killed it or something.  All that screeching noise distracted me and my lunch got away.  I told the not so tall one that I’d get it sooner or later, but whatever she said…not that I bothered listening…it didn’t sound like she believed me. 

Then there’s the stuff they feed me. Some plus shaped hard pieces of who knows what.  Oh it’s not too bad for the first twenty-two minutes and forty seconds, but after that it goes stale.  Strange they think I’ll nibble at it all day.  Why can’t my people cook me up some fresh salmon now and then?  A couple times a week shouldn’t be any problem.  But you know how hard it is to get good help… and that tall one’s no help at all.

Like I said it is not easy being a cat, and all this talking has worn me out.  I’ll just lie down a while in that sunny spot at the top of the stairs, so don’t bother me….

 

(543 Words)  12-9-2016

 

 

Lee

Lee

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Lee watched the cornstalks driven to their final dance by the combine.  The stripped ears carried swiftly up and into the machine.  The low sun reminded of the hours spent and the hours that this day yet holds.  Brilliant work lights would illuminate after the sky filled with stars.  Stars he would not notice for his eyes would remain fixed upon the rows ahead, their brown golden leaves, fluttering pennants in the evening wind, until the snapping rolls tear and crump.  The late autumn air fills his nostrils as his senses searched any

scent of burning belts, oil fumes, or overheated diesel.  He listens to the droning familiar music of the big yellow machine doing his best to pick up any unique squeaks or clatters within the mind-numbing crescendo.  Lee doesn’t count the hours, those completed or those ahead.  He counts the acres.  Acres are his yardstick, and bushels.  Bushels equal dollars…sorta’.  There are bill to pay and plans to make for next year.  Lee tries not to think about how he will pay for next year’s crop, but those thoughts creeps into his mind nearly every day.  Time now to remain focused upon the task at hand.  The years

work and worry is coming to fruition.  The grain that fills his hopper a sign of the hours of sweat and labor, of the months of planning, and sleepless nights.  Even now the fear of “losing it all” crowds inside the cab.  For observes might wonder why Lee would gamble, health and fortune on something as tenuous as farming.  But even among his fears this farmer does not consider it purely a gamble.  Yes, he understands the risk, sees it each day, but believes that hard work and determination mixed with a bit of skill will see him and his family through…again.  Some years have been lean…but others have been better.  It’s the life he lives, and figures that it’s the life that had chosen him.  So he lives it.  But the day is ending…or at least the sky’s light grows dim.  Lee is content, as content as he ever is, that he has accomplished something.  Maybe less than he had hoped when he tied his boots this morning, but acres have fallen and the end is a bit nearer.  Yeah, it’s been a good day… 

 

(388 Words)  11-29-2016

What Really Matters

What Really Matters

By John W. Vander Velden

 

In a world driven by what we might have, how easy it is to overlook the good things that surround us.  Being mere mortals we view so much with the lens of “see, hold, and touch”.  Harder to focus upon are the intangibles, and so we give them less value.  Surely a shiny Mercedes must be more pleasing than a puppy’s love.  After all a dog is just a dog…and a Mercedes…well.  But we have been duped.  For one day the auto will be just rusted metal, but the dog will always love you even if you drive a pile of cold hard rust.  So when Thanksgiving arrives, it is good to be grateful for the things that make our lives better, but more, much more, we should be thankful for all the things of life we take for granted.  The spouse that stands beside you no matter what.  The child, perhaps full grown, that gives us the respect we may not feel we deserve.  Each new day with its hopes and possibilities.  Let us appreciate sunrises, its brilliant golds, oranges, and scarlet.  Take time to notice the silvery moon that sails across the night sky filled with bright diamond like stars.  Feel the frosty winter air as we draw into our lungs, and laugh at the puffs of mists that we send off with each exhale.  Life is so much more than the somethings we can touch with our fingers.  It is all the things that reach within us and change our hearts.  As for me all these things show a God at work, prying me open, pouring something new inside, and for that I am grateful most of all.

So this Thanksgiving, take a bit of time to consider all the wonders, all the love, all the good that fill your world.  Share what you can to those who have so little.  It really won’t hurt you and can do so much good.  And give the priceless things, a smile, a kind word, take a moment to hold the door for another.  In other words share love, for in the end love is what really matters.

(360 Words)  11-23-2016

A Bump in the Road

A Bump in the Road

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

 

I am a farmer.  That seems simple enough, even if it is not a complete description of the man I have become.  But it is the way I have earned my living for more than a few years.  How I have farmed has changed with time, but some things do not.  I find myself near the middle of this year’s harvest and am reminded.  Plans are good…but things never go as planned.

If I needed to be reminded of fickleness of my profession, the weeks just past should have done that.   For I am tied to the weather.  There are few other professions more bound to the weather than farming.  And it’s more than getting wet when it rains.  Summer droughts cause their own fears but over wet fields are no fun either.  The storms of late August and September washed out not only the road…repeatedly…but crops as well.  I was fortunate that the number of acres lost was minimal.  But the intensity of the downpours sent the soybeans ta leanin’ in several directions.  Beans tilted steeply to the south must be harvested from the south…against the grain you understand…if you hope to gather most of the crop.  Running the combine would seem, to the untrained, as random wandering, a cut here…a cut there…drive all over the place. That is not to mention dealing with all the wet spots to avoid getting the machine stuck…hmmmmm.  From outer space the fields with its wandering trails and track, uncountable ruts, and random, oddly shaped unharvested blocks of crops, might look like those high Andean plain drawings of Peru…but not.  Maybe the guys at Google Earth would get a laugh at the sight of it.  But I harvest where I can in the direction I must, it slows things down…a bunch. I have worked on beans for a month, and what little remains will have to wait until the ground freezes.  Time to get back to corn and wonder if those fields will carry the combine’s weight.  I guess I’ll cross those rows when I get there.  

The point of this post is not to talk about the weather, or wet fields, or farming…well maybe farming…but to say that things do not go exactly as we plan.  However just because they don’t, doesn’t mean we can’t accomplish something.  Obstacles are part of the journey.  Just as falling down is a part of learning.  Every day we face things unexpected that seem to stand in our way.  We would like to brush those things aside and just go on, but they are rooted too deeply and stubbornly block the direction we have chosen.  Some we may be able to leap over, some we need to find away around, but some we must backtrack a bit to take a totally new route.  Yes, they’re frustrating.  Yes, we loose our patience.  But, yes, they’re a part of life, so we have to deal with it, one way or the other.  Just like I never asked for the two inches of rain on the already saturated soil in late October, none of us ask for any of the obstacles that pop up without warning. So when an obstacle interferes with our plans, it’s best not to think of it as imposing barricade but rather see it as nothing more than a bump in the road.  

 

(566 Words)  11-18-2016