We are, indeed, at times, the sums of our experiences. Experiences and bits and pieces of those persons who knowingly and deliberately, or humbly and quietly made us into their legacies by the examples they gave to us.
I mentioned already my Uncle Andy - the husband of my dad's sister Betty. His having given me a ride on the back of a rented scooter when I was just a small lad stayed with me for over 40 years and contributed to my becoming a rider. I rode this morning to a place where Betty and Andy often took me on Sunday afternoons - to a place in the middle of nowhere where once my dad's uncle and cousins bottled spring water and soda. It was, a long time ago, a place of family gatherings and picnics and cookouts. It was a place of magic to me, maybe and simply because our family came together there.
The bottling house still stands, though it's dormant now. And Uncle Andy, though taken home by the Lord six summers ago, lives with us still in the memories that he made a part of each of those of us whom he loved. I am proud of those parts of me that I can trace back to his beautiful and loving spirit. How I wish I could give him a ride like he once gave to me - and tell him clearly and simply, "Thank you," and "I love you."
The End of Things I’ve been blessed with a cinematic form of daydreaming — sequences of images and narration that move seamlessly through time and space ...
3 days ago