Rainy Days and Thursdays…

By John W. Vander Velden

 

It’s raining and it’s Thursday and I am at the keyboard…again. I really shouldn’t. My to do list stretches from here to, well I don’t know where but outa’ sight anyway. But rainy days do that to us don’t they. They give us the feeling that we should be doing something but the weather gets in the way, and so we head off on a tangent, taking time we should not use on endeavors unplanned. 

Writing has become an important task in my life. I suppose that years ago it was unimaginable that I would spend the thousands of hours tapping away letters into words, words into sentences, sentences into stories. But even now as I plan to change the oil in the trusty PT I find myself putting this rambling together. 

 Rainy days set my mind ta thinkin’. We’ve had a powerful lot of rainy days this year. I guess I’m still not completely thunk out. But the fact is, and I know it better than anyone else, I’m way past the middle of my years. And though I have so much I hope to accomplish, I really shouldn’t be typing right now but doing some of it. I understand that I likely won’t do all the things I hope to do. Sometimes that bothers me, it bothers me a lot. Sorry Mrs. Lambert. She told us that the only use for “a lot” was a plot of ground needed to build a house. But that being neither here or there. I understand that the time God will allot me to do the things I want to do is not infinite. And even if it were I’d probably just think up an infinite number of things to add to my list. 

Maybe I should make a list based on priorities. To get done, my “bucket list” first. Sounds efficient. But others keep throwing sticks in my spokes, adding obligations and such. Then are the unexpected things, repairs, emergencies, and of course heath issues that pop up like the head of a “whack a mole” demanding immediate action. Fix a gutter, wham, get the tire fixed, wham, repair a door, wham, go to a meeting, wham, wham, wham, and my to dos end up being not quite done or worse, not even started. 

Shut the machine down John, you have oil to change. 

But it’s raining. 

So?…The garage is dry. 

But it’s still raining. 

You need to get the oil changed and then work on the revisions. 

Yeah OK...but it is a rainy day...hmmmm. 

There are things to do and I best be at it, so I’m shutting down the old Gateway and going out into the rain on this Thursday morning…

 

(455 Words) 6-13-2019

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

Drill Ye Tarriers Drill

Drill Ye Tarriers Drill

By John W. Vander Velden

 

When I was in Junior High – it is called middle school these days – we had music class.  Basically we sang for the hour.  One of the songs was “Drill Ye Tarriers Drill”.  Even then, the meaning of the ditty did not escape me, but it didn’t really hit home until years later.  My wife and I took a trip to Staved Rock State Park.  It’s in Illinois.  We are very much into historical “stuff”, covered bridges, mills, old barns, and the like.  So we found the Illinois and Michigan Canal.  Those that remember their U.S. history know about the canals dug throughout the Midwest, particularly Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois.  Of course the most famous, the Erie Canal is in New York State.

But it was seeing that canal in Illinois, seeing the aqueduct and lock, considering the ninety miles of trench dug…by hand…that made the words of that song we sang, years before, leap out of my past.  The thought of tons upon tons of soil moved by men and their shovels amazed me.

It was not only canals that demanded the toil and sweat of bent backs.  There is an old drainage tile that crosses my farm, eight foot of heavy clay soil cover it at its deepest.  A man worked all summer to put in that tile…by hand.  The railroads, ribbons of steel that cross the country, the first ties and rails were laid…by hand.  Mines, which supplied the resources our young country demanded, were dug…by hand.  The grand old barns with their tons of “hand” hewed beams were raised on the backs of men.  But the past’s toil was not reserved for males.  Women may have had different obligations but often those duties required hard, long hours, working around the home and in the fields.

We forget the labor demanded of past generations.  We forget when honest sweat was a symbol of honor.  We forget that this country was built on the backs of men and women.  So many striving to create something new.

Yes, the folk song is about those that carved railroad tunnels through solid rock.  They dug the tunnels that made the linking of our shores possible.  But that song reminds of the countless that accepted the challenges and with their perspiration changed the world.

 (379 Words) 

   

    

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