Summer Update

A lot of changes have been happening in my life this summer, which means more living and less blogging. In June I moved from Michigan to Lincoln, Illinois. Some buddies came up, helped me load the Uhaul on a semi-cool morning, and then we drove the six hours back down to Illinois. On the way we saw a semi in the opposite lane that had clipped a minivan and small truck, before careening across a ditch and headlong into a field. From the looks of it, we guessed the driver of the semi had fallen asleep or had a major stroke. The truck was pretty buried. Traffic was backed up 5-6 miles, people were on their cell phones, kids were out of their vehicles playing baseball, and several dogs and cats were out by the side of the road "takin' care of bizness." My friend Rod and I looked at each other, grateful on the one hand that we weren't the ones driving through it, but also struck by how the actions of one or two individuals can have a dramatic impact on hundreds, even thousands of lives. And this was just one random individual, not a world leader, businessman or politician.

A couple days later I flew to Boise to see my aunt and uncle and some cousins whom I hadn't seen in 6-8 years. I don't keep track of time very well when I'm in school or teaching. A few days later I rented a PT Cruiser, and drove nine hours across Oregon to Noti--just west of Eugene--where my92-year old grandpa lives.

Before I go on, a little bit about my grandpa. Since Grandma passed away three years ago, Grandpa's lived on his own at the farm where he and grandma spent over 20-some years. There's a room there that used to be my dad's bedroom. Another one belongs to my uncle. My oldest uncle, Bruce, was out of the house when they built it so there's not a fourth bedroom that would have been his. I was conceived in that house, on a New Year's eve in 1974. Grandpa and Grandma used to have 100 acres of farmland, where they raised cows initially, and then sheep, goats, chickens and pigeons. The barn still stands, but has a rickety lean to it that shows that its best days are over. Later they sold off some of the land and kept a manageable 25 acres. Now Grandpa rents that out and cows once more roam the back fields, grazing and mooing into the night.

Even though he's 92, my grandpa still goes to the gym four days a week, eats out at a place called Dixie's where all the waitresses love him and he loves the attention, and he still has a sharp mind. The days I spent with him I felt like I was walking around with Bono. Everywhere he went people were saying hi to him, asking him how he was doing, taking care of him. Grandpa just said, "That's how people are here. They're good people." I looked at him and said, "That's how you are, Grandpa. You've left a legacy."
He thought about it a minute, then said, "I guess if you treat people well, then generally they'll treat you well too." It's certainly worked for my grandpa.

Grandma is buried on a hill just outside of a town called Veneta. From her gravestone you can look across a valley with a lake, and beyond that, the Cascade mountains. The morning we were there the sun was hanging low on the horizon and turned everything golden. I've rarely seen a view more beautiful. Every Saturday my grandpa brings roses to the grave site. First he pulls out the withered flowers from the week before, walks slowly to the trash bin to throw them away, dumps the old water from the vases, refills them with new water, cuts the bottom stems of the roses with a pocketknife, and arranges them back in the vase for another week. He stops for a moment to reflect, and on the morning I was there asked me tearfully if I'd say a prayer. I said sure. I thanked God for Grandma, for the life she'd lived and the ways she'd influenced her family and community. I prayed for Grandpa, for the loneliness he struggles with during the days. They were married over 60 years.

Their marriage wasn't always great, but it also wasn't always bad either, and over the span of 60 years there's going to be a heavy dose of both. But sixty years is a long time with one person, living, loving, fighting, and when they're gone a part of you goes with them. When it's all said and done, I know he loved her.

After the visit with Grandpa I drove back through Oregon, stopping to see my cousin Nate and his family, stayed a few more days in Boise to visit family, then flew back to Illinois, only to drive to Louisville, Kentucky the next day.

The last month I've been getting ready for school, at a new place, a new office, trying to get reconnected to the community, trying to get reacquainted with old friends and make new ones.