Grandpa's Words

Words run in our family,

Just like magnetic dirt,

A deep stubborn streak,

A distinct love of ice cream,

And the need to feel the rumble of a tractor

Reverberate through our bones.

Our words are passed down,

Dwelling in the wise expressions of fathers

And the repeating phrases of children.

Because we know not to stick

Fingers where they don’t belong,

And we all have ten to prove it.  

Some words fit into small boxes,

Some words can only be told through stories

Shared around a large dining room table,

Some are in poems,

And some words,

The truly important ones,

Are the ones that we hear

Silently being whispered in our ears

Long after the voice has left us.

Because if the ox is in the ditch,

You gotta get it out.

Words that remind us of where we come from

And who we are,

But most importantly,

Who we are with.

Because even if you told him

Time and time again

You aren’t joining the military

Or getting married anytime soon,

The question was still good to hear.

And even if you heard the story

Of going to a movie with a quarter,

Buying popcorn, a soda, and a candy bar,

And still coming home with a nickel in his pocket

A hundred times while in the back of a pick-up bed,

You’re still going to listen.

And you’re going to know before it’s all said and done

That a man ought to be able to do anything.

And if that man uses his head,

He’ll save his heels.

And it’s these words,

And so many more,

That we are left with

Ringing though our ears

And thumping in our chests

To the rumble of the 40-20

Winding through the fields.

Because if it ain’t the hogs,

It’s the windmill.

Memory's Stories

I love talking. To myself, sure, but I'd much rather talk to other people. I think that's probably a pretty common thing among society. But more than talking, I love having conversations. Because you can talk to people without actually saying anything. But conversations are different.

Conversations require commitment to the other person, at least for the time allotted for the conversation. Your focus is on the other person, on what they are saying, not on what you want to say, because conversation is two sided, eventually it is your turn. It is necessary to truly listen, not only to the words spoken, but how they are said, when they are said, why they are said.

I love having conversations.

Yesterday I had three really fantastic conversations. It reminded me of this innate desire I have to know people well, to be committed to a relationship, to connect with people on a level deeper than, "How are you?" "Oh, I'm fine." Because it's awful hard to lie when having a true conversation with someone. At least for me.

And today, it was stories. Gathering with twenty family members all in the room just telling and listening to stories. The absolute best way to honor and remember the passing of a much beloved grandfather.

More than ever before, I realized today that our lives are just a long string of short stories. Like hearing the story of how my uncle and his friend sat on the front of the boat for four hours on the river and got sunburnt so bad they couldn't hardly walk -- for the twentieth time this year.  And I can't tell you how many times in the last week I've heard my dad or uncle say, "If you can't shoot a squirrel in the eye, don't bother shooting."

And more than that, the fact that our stories all tie together. My memories of riding in the back window of the tractor while Grandpa did farm chores is as vivid and special to me as the same kind of memories my father or uncle or cousins have doing the same.

Stories are powerful. Conversations are powerful. It has been a very lovely and special couple of days. I hope I never forget these words that have been floating around our family.

Until next time, one bright morning in the middle of the night...