Of Sweat and Soil Part 2

Of Sweat and Soil

Part 2 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

It was not family problems that drove my parents to cross the sea.  Both had very good relations with their individual large families.  Mom had eight brothers and sisters, and dad had six.  Maybe it was because they loved and admired their parents that they were impatient to prove themselves.  Their whole lives had been denied.  Born in 1925 the depression hit Holland as hard as anywhere.  Simply put there was nothing.  But just when things might have begun to improve, World War II sent the low countries and much of the rest of Europe into a turmoil that none could have expected, and fortunately a turmoil that we, the next generation, have been spared.  The Netherlands became an occupied country.  And when you hear your parents speak of hardships in the United States during that time…well yes, it was tough, but nothing in comparison to what those that lived beneath the gun had faced. 

So dad found himself in the “doughnut hole” when he was ready to begin his life.  Opportunities were promised in the future.  Opportunities existed for those that had started before the war, but in the late forties there were nothing but promises.  Dad was not a patient man, and promises were, in his mind for those that would wait.  He had little faith in promises.

My parents went to meeting about foreign possibilities.  They considered Brazil and Peru, but the best future seemed to be found in the land of “Possibilities” the United States.  So with plans made and years of procedures to follow dad’s sister and her family went to LaPorte County, Indiana.  And with Frank Scholl, the brother of Dr. Scholl of foot fame, as their sponsor, my newlywed parents followed a few months later.  So in October of 1948 Jacob and Nel Vander Velden began the difficult task of fulfilling their dream.  

(311 Words)

Of Sweat and Soil Part 1

Of Sweat and Soil

Part 1

By John W. Vander Velden 

When I wander the “place”, the farmstead, there are times when I let my mind go back to what we found here.  Though some might have called it a working dairy farm, I am not certain that would be my description of this farm in 1972.  I remember the piles of metal, mostly over worn farm equipment.  A crumpled corn picker, the manufacturer unrecognizable, a corn planter that sat rotting away fertilizer still in its deteriorating hoppers, stacks of old fence, tangled, and just about everywhere bits and pieces of discarded “stuff”.  Behind the only structure that one could imagine as a machine storage shed we found the crumpled remains of a silo roof. 

We spent a Sunday afternoon, the whole family together, gathering wagon after wagon of junk to add to the existing piles.  Old fences lay tumbled down, the cow barn hadn’t been scraped out in months, a mess of its own.  All the manure, whenever the former man had spread it, had covered the lot next to the house with such a thick layer that nothing grew there for a year.  A chemical spill had killed all the grass in about half the yard.  The lot in front of the milking parlor looked like a war zone, with the twisted pipes, of an abandoned cattle crossing, sticking out the mounds of reddish earth between open holes revealing severed sewer pipes. 

The milking equipment did not work.  Period!  Nor did the feeder and silo unloader.  The conveyor for loading bales in the barn was mis-installed.  There weren’t three operating light switches on the place.  Not to mention that any light bulb within reach had been stolen.  

So what did dad and mom see, when they bought this place?  Possibilities…  I have to think of my parents in a bigger context.  They were descendants of farmers.  Though the farms on which they grew up had little in common with a dairy farm in Indiana.  But my grandparent earned their keep from the soil…soil they owned.  My parents left everything behind when they emigrated from the Netherlands in 1948. Everything except a dream.  They knew that one day…somehow…they would have their own place.  That a day would come and they could point to a corner of the world and say…this is ours… 

This broken down wreck of a place must have been to them, a seed.  A seed they believed when attended with enough effort and sacrifice could grow to become…their farm.

I worked with them, I witnessed the whole story of “Sunrise Acres”, and I will share a bit of that story with you.  This is but the first installment.  It is enough to say they did succeed when others had failed.  But the story starts before the papers were signed in February 1972.  And the next part will tell the story of a young couple’s beginnings.

4-1-2017  (483 Words)

Truths

Truths                 

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

When I was young I believed that trees grew upward from their roots.  This stemmed from the fact that my brother, who was always a better tree climber, had found initials carved high up in a tree.  No one, I thought, would climb so high just to leave their mark.  Therefore, notice the logic, the whoever had carved it did so near the base when the tree was young.  The tree grew and year by year the initials rose higher and higher.

Some might see this as a silly childish notion.  One among the thousands of silly childhood ideas I had growing up.  That’s a part of growing up, isn’t it, to learn truths that expel false ideas?  But the fact is if I believed strong enough, nothing could have convinced me otherwise.  That’s human nature.  We wrap ourselves around a comfortable concept, kept all warm and cozy, and close our eyes to different ideas.

If I continued to believe that trees grew from their bases, it would not change the FACT that they grow from the tips of their branches.  I would simply go on believing what I believed.  And if to prove my point I made a mark in a tree to observe its rising, I could say that a tree grows so slowly I had not waited long enough for the change I knew was coming.

Today I know that it is silly to think trees continued to rise out of the soil.  Over my lifetime I have made corrections about a great many things that I believed were true but found were not.  Which does not make the importance, of those long ago notions, valueless.  On the contrary, by recognizing that “I was wrong” I can accept that I may still be wrong.  It opens me up to HEAR and SEE other views, to test my truths against different opinions.  I do not except other ideas as superior to mine, just because they are other peoples opinions.  But I must take truth known and hold it against truth suspected, recognizing that TRUTH remains TRUE, and truth does NOT fear questions.

For there are those things that are true…no matter what.  Facts that I know.  Facts which are foundations stones on which I have built my life.  You might disagree with the things I KNOW are true.  I’ll allow you the right to be wrong.  I will not twist your arm until you agree…that’s not me.  I will allow you to state you position, to hear you out.  As I have done so many times.  Like I said the truth does not fear questions.  But I believe in love…a power that can, if given its chance, overcome anything.  I believe that love is manifested in GOD the creator and master of the universe.  I believe in Love’s sacrifice.  Love strong enough to give up ones life for others.  So from that logic I believe that JESUS is GOD’s son, and HE died for me.

I have heard many other points of view.  I have held them against these basic TRUTHS and found them lacking.  Perhaps you would disagree.  Like I said you have that right.  But as for me…on these truths I stand.

(540 Words)  5-24-2017

 

 

 

NOW!

Now!

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Yesterday was my day.

Tomorrow may be my day.

But today is my day!

 

Should we not be engaged in the now.  In truth it is all we have.  Yet it is too easy to dwell on what was…all the accomplishments… all the joy…all the good times.  Or to sulk over the past’s failures…the mistakes…heartaches…the dark days.  On the other hand how many times, do we feel certain that the future offers all the things that are presently out of our reach?  That the future holds all the wonders we seek.  So we spend too much time dwelling on the past and looking toward days ahead to fully take all today has to offer.

But today is the only day we have…really have…now!  I get up knowing that God has given me 24 hours…well maybe…but he has given me today.  I may not know what I will face on this revolution of the earth, but crawling back into bed, may be pleasant on occasion, but does not fulfill.  Better to get up and to it…whatever “it” might be.  I understand that what “it” is changes each day.  But there will be something to tackle today!

So I make a mental list of what I “might” do today, knowing that “the best laid plans” often fall to the wayside.  I do not drive myself as I did years ago, but just because I don’t hustle straight from day’s beginning to its end, doesn’t mean that I stand stationary.  I am grateful that there are things that demand my attention.  I may be frustrated that there are too many things that demand my attention, but there needs to be something.

So instead of milking cows every day…I did that for 35 years.  Instead of preparing soil and planting each spring and harvesting long days throughout the fall and into the winters…I did that for 45 years.  I will tend to a smaller world.  And among the tasks in that smaller world is my writing.  Each today…well almost every day…that I face at this juncture of my life, should include time for…writing.

For God has given me this gift, and it is my obligation to use all the gifts He has provided.  I hope that I have something of value to say.  I hope that I do not squander even this small talent on self-serving purposes.  For there surely is a need for words that lift.  There is a need for words to inspire.  There is a need for words to remind others of their greatness…their courage…their beauty…and that there is a God that loves them.

You see I can’t change yesterday.  Tomorrow is out of sight.  But today…today is my day…I should celebrate the now!

(456 Words)                  2/28/2017

Caliber

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I suspect that each of us wonder what other people think of us.  Not that it is any of our business.  Some might not care, but most, I think, would wish other people to like them.  It’s kinda’ natural, a herd mentality sorta’ thing.  You know, fit in, be accepted, and whatever else, not to stand out.  Trends come and trends go and if we chase trends, well, we are only chasing aren’t we.

Rather, I hope that most of us try to do the right thing.  Not that the right thing is always easy.  Not that the right thing will gain us fame or even acceptance.  But the right thing is the right thing…not that we always know what the right thing might be at any given time.  But the diligent attempt helps to shape us.  When we strive to do what we feel is right don’t we show a consistency to our actions, and a consistency, that in the end, reveals the metal from which we are made.

You see there are many followers, those that chase after people or trends, but there are few leaders.  Not that those that lead always stand out in ways the masses deem proper.  Not that they always stand out in ways that are good.  Rev. Dietrich Bonhoeffer might be a good example.  A pastor in Nazi Germany, he stood against the tide, the cruel insanity that controlled his country.  If you don’t know his story and don’t have the motivation to read it, there is a movie about him.  He is remembered for what he did, and his actions revealed his caliber.

I’m no Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  I do not have that much courage.  But I admire him and those like him that proved their caliber by their actions.  How will I be measured?  I suppose it is wrong for me to wonder.  Is it not enough that everyday I put my best foot forward?  Not because it might impress those that look on, but simply because it’s the right thing to do.  Should I not care about others…their feelings…their needs?  Should I not place others before myself?  That’s a tough one.  We live in a world that tells us to “watch out for number one”, let other guy take care of himself.  Hmmmm….  It just don’t sit right with me.

So I have decided to do what I can, when I can.  Not that it has been easy or will become easy.  But I believe that each person can make a difference…and that means me too.  And to make a difference takes effort.  It also takes sacrifice.  But it begins with caring…really caring.  To see the world through the eyes of others.  That ain’t easy either.  But if I try…really try.  Then no matter how others measure me, when at the end of the day I look in the mirror, I will see a man of caliber…

(490 Words)                   3-29-2017

 

Vacation Like You Mean It: Leaving the Beach Behind

     Vacation Like You Mean It:
                            Leaving the Beach Behind

By John W. Vander Velden

We had a long drive ahead of us that Sunday morning.  It might have seemed sensible to have slept in just a little that day.  But I found myself at the water’s edge before the sun’s rising.  You might think, especially since we saw four, that it was lighthouses that brought us south, and seeing the light at Pensacola was on my mental to do list.  But the real draw was the water, the wind and waves, the roar that only comes from the ocean…OK it was the gulf.  It is something that has drawn me back since the first time my parents took me to the beach at St. Augustine.  Maybe it was what caused my father and mother to load us up in the 59 Chevy and drive the hours it took from our farm near Alachua to reach the shore.  Water was in their history, and they put it in mine.

It may seem that I have been to the ocean many times. But thirteen trips to the sea or gulf shore spread over my years averages to only once out of five years   We are fortunate to live near the “Third Coast” of Michigan.  We have gone there countless times.  But there is something different in the sea.  Something more than the saltiness of the water.  Something powerful…grand…but most of all infinite about the ocean.  I know it is not limitless.  I know that shores around the world line its fringes.  But maybe that’s part of it.  The part we cannot see but know exists.  That in its way the ocean connects us to others.  All I know, it draws me.

For me it is not enough to sit on our balcony and absorb the magnificence, to feel the sea air on my cheeks, to hear the rumble of breakers on the shore.  No, I have to get close… me and the sea…to step in the water…to feel the power of the surf…to make the contact intimate.

That morning was my one last chance…and I took it.

There are less people on the beach in the early morning.  The man setting up the umbrellas all blue for the hotel guests to enjoy.  We didn’t take the time.  Maybe next time we will have a few more days and will relax on the shore as we watch the ever changing surf, the tides coming or going.  It is always doing one or the other.  Watch the tiny sanderlings race the water’s advance.  See the pelicans dive into water.  Perhaps a dolphin might swim by visible beyond the swells.  Perhaps.  But on this morning I met a man from Germany that prepared to photograph the sunrise.  Though the language barrier between us was not full broken, I told of my walk in the mist two days before and wished him a good day.  I respectfully moved out of his camera angle as I headed east that last time.  But the waves drew me into the warm water.  I felt it splash against my thighs.  I photographed the tumbling breakers around me and the warming early morning sky.  It was my last chance…for a while.  Breakfast would come and the long road waited…It could wait a little longer.

A light rain fell most of the day we drove northward.  A reason we picked the Pensacola area was it was the closest part of Florida.  Even so Google decided that the trip should take 13 hours…how I have no idea.  It always takes me longer than the cleaver computer program predicts, and even so 13 hours would be a long drive…not impossible but a really long day’s drive.  So we broke the drive into manageable pieces.

I prefer to trek across country on weekends.  It avoids workday rush hours.  But timing is everything and this year it was mostly into the weekday crush that we inserted our Malibu.  So, silly me should have picked a hotel north of Nashville for that Sunday night.  I did say should have.  But never fear for our bodies remained on Eastern Time while Tennessee is on Central, so up early and out the door by 5:30 local time put us ahead of MOST of the insanity.  It had other advantages too, for it meant we passed around Indy during a less dense traffic period as well.

We arrived home in time to get Cloey from the kennel, I mean spa, that evening.  The place we take our little wonder dog is superb.  It makes it easier to leave her knowing how well they treat her there.  She returned to us bathed and fresh…she hates baths…all poofie and glad to see us.  Reunited the Vander Veldens of the greater Teegarden-Tyner area had made it safely home, the end of a wonderful vacation.

5-23-2017  
 

Vacation Like You Mean It: Time for Shopping

Vacation Like You Mean It 

Time for Shopping

 

This tree had long been a landmark.  When the magnolia died
wood carvers turned it to a work of art.

By John W. Vander Velden

 

When we travel we always pencil in a bit of time for shopping.  Jackie loves it, so I’m pleased to tag along.  Now we had no intention of filling the Malibu with “good” deals or anything like that.  Rather we try to find some small thing that represents “this trip”.  Last year when we were on Jeykel Island we found a small pewter sea turtle.  So on this day we were looking for something appropriate, as well as a couple of tee-shirts.  We drove the tourist area of Fort Walton Beach.  There didn’t seem to be anything that fit our personality.  I mean just how many tattoo parlors would we visit.  Tattoos seem to a big thing there and when you see the locals you can believe it.  There was also a sign for permanent makeup, whatever that is.  This not saying that Fort Walton Beach doesn’t have its draw, it does, but for us, not on those few blocks a short drive from our hotel.

Along the wharfs was this wonderful shop 

So we returned to Destin Harbor Walk Village.  Our first stop was at what might be described a dockside general store…sorta’.  We had checked the place out on Wednesday.  They do a business serving fisherman, baits, equipment, and suggestions.  But they had so much more, snacks, bottled sodas, some basic food stuff, clothing, and touristy nik-nacks etc.  An interesting place that opened before the rest of the village.  Seems logical…fishermen start early.  There we found this trip’s special thing, a small glass dolphin. 

We wandered around the village again, finding a couple of “Life is Good” tees and slipped out just before lunch.  A few miles down the highway was an outlet mall…a big outlet mall.  We had our lunch there and then walked…and walked…and spent very little money.  There is a difference between shopping and buying.  But in a kitchen supply store Jackie was infatuated with a mortar and pestle…a really big mortar and pestle.  It must have weighed ten pounds.  You could probably grind up a quart of walnuts, shell and all, if you had a mind to.  Jackie collects the things, and we did have the room to haul it back up north…but she didn’t have any idea what she would do with it.  We’re not big into pulverized walnuts.  And she couldn’t think of how she had the space to display it.  It was rather pretty…as mortar and pestles go, all cold stone polished and smooth.  So though it drew her…repeatedly…and I would love to have indulged her…but it remained in Florida.

We strolled around some interesting shops. Jackie found a Vera Bradley handbag that she liked, but mostly we walked about on a warm spring day beneath the sun and a crystal blue sky.  Traffic was heavy going back…again.  There are only three highways that link the Destin area with the rest of the world, so when people want to come in or go out…well, let’s just say be patient.

Later we went to Outback for supper but saved just enough time to walk the beach at the evening’s birthing. 

You can tell we don’t stand still while we are on vacation.  No one would describe those days as restful…and that’s OK.  We had just over four days to spend in Florida and want to see and do…It’s our nature.  But Saturday was our last day, and it capped off a wonderful visit to the Emerald Coast. 

Next week….The road home…