Thinkin' About August

Thinkin’ About August

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

August is one of those months that seem to pass unnoticed.  That is if you don’t have kids going back to school…or college…or are a student yourself...or are a teacher for that matter.  Then August is one of those REALLY important months.  But growing up we didn’t start classes until September…in college mid-September. 

But August is no less important that the other eleven months.  It holds its unique place in the calendar with summer’s closing.  Some of the hottest days of the year usually fall in August.  Dog days they are called.  But the days are growing shorter and the mornings carry a bit more mist than June and July.  The spider’s webs sparkle with dew on clear mornings.  The corn has reached its full height, dark green with swelling ears.  Signs that the year reaches toward autumn.  August tell us yes, fall is on the way…but not here yet, summer is very much alive.  

August for most is a bit more laid back, a month with no national holidays, a time that may contain leisurely end of summer vacation escapes, a time to slow down. For me the month is a time to evaluate the possible success of the year’s crop.  Time spent stripping ears and peering into rows of tall soybean plants…wondering if the harvest will be good.  It is a time to mentally prepare for the next big season…and the completion of another crop year.  It is a time for getting the equipment rearranged and ready.  I spend time mowing fencerows and farm lots, worrying about new flush of weeds invisible only days before.  There are always things to do and usually more than time allows.  But busy is better than the alternative, not that I wouldn’t enjoy leisure. But I see leisure as choosing to be less busy, which is a far cry from not having things to do. 

August remind me of change.  The changing seasons.  The changing year.  But most of all I am reminded of the changes in life.  A great many have occurred in August’s past.  I try not to dwell on the dark changes that have come in summer’s years ago, doing my best to focus on the positive.  Not always easy but worth the effort. Changes are as much a part of life as anything.  And though I, personally, resist change, I must acknowledge that change is a good thing…mostly.  Perhaps I should tell myself that that truth more often.  It could make me more flexible.  There’s a time to be an Oak and a time to be a Willow…if you get my meaning. 

So I hope you enjoy these last days of August.  Take each as it is.  Make the most out of each and every one of them.  Change is a commin’.  The summer will not go on till December.  But it’s August and there’s plenty of summer left…providing you grasp each moment.  For each day is unique…even in late August… 

(501 Words)  8-25-2016

The Book of Lasts

 

 

The Book of Lasts

 

By John w. Vander Velden    

 

It seems that first times get all the credit.  A good example is the book kept by new parents.  First words, first foods, first tooth, first steps, important milestones of their child’s development.  And it doesn’t stop there.  No, we always remember the firsts in our life.  The first day of school, our first bicycle, the first time we drove, and on and on. They are important. Firsts are about beginnings, and beginnings are positive.  Its endings we have trouble with.

For me this year has many things I would place in my book of lasts.  A mental record of when changes occur in my life.  As I approach the end of my farming career, I understand that things will change…and I hope that those changes will be for the better.  All spring it has been on my mind that this, my 45^th, will be my last crop.  When I began this part of my journey I would never have imagined reaching this milestone.  Not that I doubted I would live long enough, but rather could not imagine my life with out the tasks that has filled my days all these years.  But now as I stand on the threshold and go through the preparations of closing that door, I take a moment to consider the lasts, the last tillage, the last planting, the last…all of it.  Hmmmm….

         I will not say that I’ll miss fighting with cantankerous anhydrous applicators or wondering when it will or will not rain, but I do not regret the years when things like that made up so much of my life.  No, there was a time for those tasks and I must acknowledge that time is ending.  Even today farming is very physical and I accept my fading strength.  But life is about changes, and constants are not really…constant…are they?  Moving forward means…moving. 

But the book of lasts is not the only record I keep.  For all through my life I have kept note of firsts.  With the closing of this chapter I anticipate adding to that list.  Before me is a very busy schedule, so many things I hope to achieve. As long as I have breath, there will be firsts before me. I plan to set out in new directions for lasts and first go hand in hand.

So next year when I look over another man’s crops growing on my farm, I will understand that it is not a symbol of my labor, my worries, my limited talents.  Those plants will remind me of all my years, of all my experiences, all my successes and disappointments.  I will remember that first year I farmed and all those firsts long past, and consider the first that lie before and not dwell on my book of lasts.   

 

(467 Words)         8-15-2016

Milkweed

Milkweed

By John W. Vander Velden             

 

For many years I have dealt with an adversary most stubborn…the milkweed.  Those that work the land, those that hope to earn even modest sustenance as they labor between rows and beneath the sun, annoyed by the plants uninvited to our fields.  Called weeds, we continually battle, wishing only plants of our choosing to occupy our land.  And particularly death to that greasy plant with its slimy milk white sap.

However there is another view which needs exposure.  For large green caterpillars feed upon the milkweeds broad leaves.  I am certain the weed finds no pleasure as it is eaten by what it would certainly consider vermin.  Though we farmers have strong opinions about weeds and insects, we can find humor in the fact that a weed that causes us such pain can be eaten away by a worm which devours nothing else…the milkweed caterpillar.  However this creature could not exist if the weed did not.

Perhaps you have forgotten, easily done, but that worm, that milkweed caterpillar, that ugly, gross worm becomes the Monarch Butterfly, a magnificent beauty of brilliant orange and black which flutters about our homes and lawns, bringing joy to all.  Children seek to capture, while adults watch spellbound as with powerful wings it flits about.  Certainly our world would be blander without the royal winged joy.

When I was in first grade we gathered the parakeet shaped milkweed seed pods.  On these we painted.  Eyes, beak and feathers…crudely to be sure, with clumsy untrained ambitious hands.  Yet many times throughout my life I have seen those very pods split open, watching the seeds flying on silken wings carried by autumn’s winds.  Surely many of those flying wonders landed unfortunately upon tilled land, next year’s pain.

Seldom do we take the time to consider things as insignificant as seed carried aloft far and away.  Rarely do we notice the connection…between joy and pain…between nuisance…and beauty.

Though we have for generations done our very best to annihilate the milkweed yet it persists.  Burdened by chemicals and hoe, eaten by a pest of its own, yet, out of persistence and cleverness, the weed endures.  There is much we can learn from the…Milkweed!

 

(369 Words)

 

It's About Attitude

It’s About Attitude

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Though I believe that time is a teacher, I know that I must be open to learn the lessons that life offers.  Life is ever-changing.  It is up to me to get the most out of each moment.  You see, it is about attitude.  Jackie will tell you that I do not always have the best attitude…but I try.  Trying may not be enough but it’s my best shot.  Over the years I have faced disappointments and challenges along with some pain.  I know that my problems have been less than those faced by others.  But like everyone, my problems are my problems, and they seem the most important problems, when I face them.  Those days place a damper on my moods.  Times I wear the world on my sleeve, but most times I carry the weight hidden.  Those are the days I must remind myself once again…it’s all about attitude.  And it is! 

Few know about the darkest days I have faced.  Few need to be bothered by knowing.  This post isn’t about dealing with that darkness, but rather recognizing that dawn follows the night.  Wait for it.  It’s comin’. This post is about the gift each of us is given…today!  Twenty- four non-repeating hours.  Fourteen hundred forty unique one time minutes.  Rising in the morning I remind myself of this grand offering placed before me…a new day…and the possibilities that lie at my feet.  Get up and go John.  There’s things to get done. The day’s closing may find me disappointed in what I have managed to accomplish, but if I have given it my best…well that’ll have to do…and more…it was enough. 

It is about attitude.  God has given me today.  Hopefully I accept that gift with gratitude…make the most I can out of it…and not insult the Giver.   

(311 Words)                8-11-2016

Skins

Skins

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

It seems that each of us look no deeper than the surface.  That we notice the “skin” but never consider the essence within.  It is like when we see a beautiful lake.  We stand in awe of the sparkling water as it lies before us, unaware of the worlds that are so near but out of sight.  We feel content…even overjoyed at the rippling wavelets sparkling beneath the sky and give no thought to all the fish, frogs, and all the life unseen within universes invisible to us.  What is worse we are content with the “skins” we observe.  But things are much more than surface “skins”, and everyone is much more than they appear.  

Too easy we take first impressions and outside appearances to form our understanding of someone.  Too easy we allow past situations to define future possibilities.  We see only “skins” and believe there is nothing more.  But would we want to be forever condemned by our own history.  No!  For just as a house is more than the shade of paint smeared on its surface, each person is so much more than “skin”.  Shouldn’t we remember that everyone has much in common?  That each, though unique, share many of the same wants and desires.  Do not each of us have dreams, hopes and aspirations for the future?  Do we not love our children?  Have we not concerns for our health and community? Can we not laugh…and cry?  If any are pricked will they not bleed?  For the world is filled with…people…all different…yet the same.

Should we not look deeper?  See beneath the surface.  For isn’t the surface…just that…the surface.  Should we not take the time to see deeper?  Take time to understand, to be open, really open to a world beneath, be it situations, organizations, but especially people.  Let us take the effort to try to understand…to see deeper than “skins”.  

(321 Words)         8-2-2016

Harrison

 

 

Harrison

                            

By john W. Vander Velden

 

     As I drove past the rubble remains of a house trailer, my mind returned to Harrison.  It was where the man lived when I came to this neighborhood in 1972.  I can’t say I really knew the man that shared my grandfather’s birthday.  But I guess I didn’t know my grandparents well either.  Distance and time, barriers that were never crossed, left my parent’s parents only the subjects of stories, made real by those they had raised.  But I had met Harrison…briefly.  And the stories about him gave flesh to the silhouette of a man I saw move about his yard.  Before he came to Marshall County he had been the chef at the Grand Hotel on Mackinaw Island.  Surely the man had countless stories of those years, but I heard none.  One of his sons lived in the trailer right next door.  Bill and his boys started a business and kept an eye on Harrison.  August 15^th, 1890, was the day the two men lives began.  Now almost 132 years later little more than memories remain…and for me only brief glimpses of their incredible lives.  But with the disappearance of that old rotting tin box, will any give a thought to Harrison?  I wonder.  I have no idea where his descendants migrated.  Bill passed years ago.  His daughter moved into that other trailer and left in the mid eighties.  The property sold and the trailers rented, time has been harsh on the structures.  Bill’s trailer replaced with another and now the last earthly reminder of his father is being dismantled and hauled away as scrap. 

     But this post isn’t about Harrison, or my grandfather, or Frank either.  I met Frank in the early sixties. He was 96.  Frank came to visit the farm where his fortunes began.  I do mean fortunes.  He had amassed a financial empire, businesses, hotels in major cities.  By the late sixties and early seventies his high rise hotels in Miami and Chicago were torn down.  Now when you google Frank Morrison…zilch.  At least about that Frank Morrison.  The family sold the farm where it all began a few years ago.  They were too disconnected, I was told.  Disconnected from the land…I fear they were also disconnected from the man. 

     Thinking of Harrison and the others, I consider legacy.  What is it these men have left behind?  What mark did they make…really?  I’m sure the rubble strewn craters of the Morrison Hotels have found other uses.  They were after all prime real estate.  But the years have washed away the memory.  Legacy.  If we tie our whole being to some thing, grand or not, time will erase all traces.  That is unless we build some magnificent pyramid of granite, like those in Egypt.   

     So what should our legacy be?  How do we leave something that matters?  And should we care?  Whether we care or not is for each of us to decide.  But if we do care…then what?  The men of my father’s family each named a son after their father.  It seems that Gerard Vander Velden left a mark.  That is a legacy I believe I should take pride in.  As for me, I have no idea what scratch I will make on this world.  And no idea if that small mark will be remember in my passing.  I carry no pride in that regard. Best I live my life to the best of my abilities…Help others when I can…Be fair in all my dealings…Love my family and friends…Be true to GOD…and trust that my life will have mattered.  And if it does…that will be legacy enough…

 

(608 Words) 7-20-2016 (Updated 7-8-2022)

 

Move Forward

Move Forward       

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Where has our days of youth gone.  Those times when we frolicked woods and glen.  Hours spent wading in cold water of crystal streams.  Or watching our bobbers floating as we fished the neighbor’s pond on lazy hot summer afternoons.  Have they left us?  Are they no more than a memory? I long for those times, when melancholy seeks to drag me under.  No, they were not all pleasant.  Those joyful days had enough tears as well.  But the years sweep us along, and we it seems, but dust before that broom. 

There are events that drag me back to times past.  Dramatic moments that shake me to my core, and I wonder if others feel as I about time’s change.  With the sun’s rising a new day begins.  Each holds its promise…but when I feel dark, those promises seem empty.  When news of world, of family, of friends comes deep and dank, breathing in GOD’s beauty and promise is a difficult task.  Laughter and a stiff lip may hide a broken heart, but the heart is shattered all the same. 

I understand that events of the passed two years have placed me in this funk.  When the complexities of life have me longing for a simpler time.  But were those days of youth less tumultuous?  Really?  I didn’t think so at the time.  Life it seemed then hinged upon one thing or another.  On things that now we know were frivolous.  Perhaps it is still so.  Perhaps the things that drag us to emotional depths are really insignificant…in the long run.  But looking at the things that came recently, I can’t believe there is anything frivolous about them.  My world has been quaked…emotionally that is.  Time will, with its passing, bring a clearer perspective.  On that I am sure.  But now the dark tunnel surrounds.  Now I do my best not to be trapped by the mire and to climb upward.  Effort is needed.  Effort requires strength, and strength requires energy.   

It’s the last part I have trouble with this morning…energy.  So I must draw a breath, take just a moment to notice the wonderful day I have been given, and go on.  Grit my teeth and go on.  Drag my self forward and go on.  Today is a gift.  I would insult the Giver if I did not whole-heartedly enjoy all that it offers.  To look up, draw a breath, and march forward facing the wonder as well as the challenges. 

That must be the goal I set for today.  To move forward.  “Baby steps” perhaps but “baby steps” in the right direction is progress none the less.  Life has always had changes. And though these recent changes have been dramatic.  Though my world seems to have become unhinged.  I will look for blue skies and star filled nights and understand a bit of my place among all the grandeur of the world…and beyond.  I will accept that my task remains unfinished and move forward with new energy.  I will move forward…I will…oh yes, I will! 

(512 Words)                6-25-2016 (Updated 7-16-2022)