Night Walk

 

Night Walk        1-26-2012

By John W. Vander Velden

He crossed the street not certain where he might go.  The rain drops silver beneath the street lamps, splashing new puddles in the street.  Joe’s head uncovered, hair hanging wet, water flowing into his eyes along his cheeks down his neck, cold…wet…soaking…miserable.  Yet he continued moving the direction he faced, confused…lost…in his home town.  It didn’t matter where he went…only he could not go home…not yet…maybe never.  His mind raced, scarcely noticing the chill or the places his feet carried.  How had he come to this place?  The place that home seemed off limits.  How could things change so quickly?  Two hours…only two hours…the time he had left…the time he had walked…the time he had been drenched.  Joe should go somewhere dry but the hour gave few choices.  He should find a safe place…a dry place.  Home came to mind.  That was impossible…now….

 

(151 Words)

Lookin' Back Again

 Lookin’ Back...Again            

By John W. Vander Velden

Some might think it silly.  Some think it a waste of time.  Some might say they never do…but I don’t believe them.  But I look back.  So today when I reach yet another milestone of my life, I think about the road that has taken me to this place.  Yes, I look back and wonder if I have used the years to their best purposes.  But I also find that if I examine my personal past objectively I realize I could never have predicted the outcome.  I imagine the twenty year old kid that set his college degree on a shelf to take on a very different profession.  That boy had no idea where that road would take him, the highs and yes, the lows.  He had no idea of just how difficult farming would be, or how much physical abuse he would willingly put himself through.  But oh, what a journey, and the things I have done.  From the fringe it might seem I lived a small life.  But I would differ from that opinion.  For forty-five years I was up to my elbows in “the mud and blood of life”.  (I always liked that quote from Tree in the Meadow, but like it or not, it fits the life I have lived).  I’ve seen this small part of Marshall County Indiana from the top of a silo.  Times I have even stood on the very top when I had stacked it above the concrete rim and seen the panorama of what was my world. 

I have helped cows give birth more times than I would care to count.  I have aided the vet on hundreds of occasions as together we had to deal with life and death…hands on.  How many times I had found myself working the soil at cool hour of first light, and continue till the day ended.  Sometimes those days ended long after the sun had abandoned me.  I have raced the rain when the hay was almost dry, and hoped for the best.  Sat in a combine cab and watched crop devoured, listened to the machine as it processed plant into clean grain.  They were hard years and I wouldn’t trade one…not one for any alternative lifestyle.

But what I see behind me is more than the farm.  For though the time demanded made up such a large part of my awake hours, there was so much more.  I think back to March of 1989 and a new chapter of my life…a chapter that has not reached its conclusion.  For when Jackie bound her life to mine, my existence took a new and wonderful turn.  I could not stand where I am without her at my side.  I could not have reached the feeble goals I have set without her assistance.  And then there are the other days, when together we have discovered a larger world in our travels.  Whether it was Alaska or Arizona or the other places we have wandered.  Whether it was walking on deserted beaches or climbing lighthouses, one plus one makes so much more than two.

And together we have raised a son.  How many runs did he require…to school…to baseball…to basketball…to band, the list goes on.  I had the flexibility Jackie did not, and so I was the chauffeur, but time spent behind the wheel needed to be made up at the farm.  It might have seemed a sacrifice then…it does not now.  Now when I look back and see the child my son grew from, my eyes dampen.  But only pride come to my heart when I see the man that child became.

So I look back and yes, there are regrets.  There are moment when I know I failed myself and more…those that depended upon me.  But failing is part of living.  And failing is only loss when we do not learn…do not get up and try to do better.  Today I will not dwell on mistakes, lost opportunities, and those things that tend to bring me down.  No, now I look back and smile, for Thursday was my birthday and though I’m officially seventy-two, my whole life is not in my wake.  There is so much ahead, and today I will stand on the past and stride toward the future.  (722 Words) 2-10-2024

 

More Than a Dash

 

More Than a Dash

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Recently one of Jackie’s cousins passed away. The obituary revealed the man had lived an amazing life, what some might call the dash. The dash has been described as the mark carved into a tombstone between the day of birth and time of passing from this world.

After reading that lengthy piece in the paper and attending the funeral, I was led to thinking. Most of us never figure that our time on the green side of the sod is significant. To us our dash means very little. For we are just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. We never even take a moment to consider our own dash, the people around us whose lives intersect with ours, or any of the other ways our dash has and continues to affect the world.

But when we do so, we forget one important thing. For though we might be unable to see it, our dash is not some random mark of no consequence. For I know that each of us has been placed on this globe at this specific time, for a specific reason. God gave you life, for a purpose. It is up to us to find that purpose, to seek it out, to fulfill that place in the mechanism, that is the human race. You are not some random speck. You are not some biological accident. You walk this earth for a reason.

And that reason is more than a dash, more than the list of accomplishments or awards. It is more than the years given to a job or profession. It is more than the heirs we will leave behind. For as unique individuals we fill a space that none other can fill.

Be assured you are more than some lines that one day might be printed in the local paper. For you are more than a dash.

(309 Words) 1/26/2024