The Fear of the National Geographic

I've reached the end of one of my Gram's journals. There are several more to read, but I am feeling the need to take a break for a while. In addition to the writings and poetry I've shared here, there are many entries in which she writes about her daily life. It is such a blessing to have this account, but the process of reading also brings up a lot of emotion for me as I realize again and again just how much I miss her.

The next few weeks of my life will be consumed by Vacation Bible School, Campmeeting, dog training, and visits from family. I will pick up here again in the fall. For now, I leave you with this fun piece about my Gram's "Fear of the National Geographic." ~ KB

Fear of the National Geographic

I don’t subscribe to the National Geographic magazine but it is often found in doctor’s and dentist’s offices. This may, in part, contribute to the way I feel about it.

It is truly amazing, a real lodestone of knowledge. Erotic flora and fauna tempt the eye and the mind. One can look down on rain-forests or on a patchwork pattern of cultivated land or see the world from an insect’s point of view. One can climb the highest mountain, build pipe lines, or irrigate the desert, all in living color. Bats cling together in caves; lizards bask in the sun; lions gather at water holes and the sun is setting over a golden sea in Hawaii when a door opens and a voice says, “You’re next!”

On the way home the land looks flat and colorless compared to the highly colored pages. I imagine wildebeests and elands scattering before the car. At my driveway, elephants and their young move ponderously aside. Monkeys chatter in the trees and the pitiful contrived face of she who is perhaps the mother of us all appears before my eyes.

The sky darkens with volcanic ash and molten lava creeps down a blackened mountainside. A cedar forest in Maine waits to be inundated by the sea in order to form coal thousands of years hence. Winds erupt and trees fall before it like scattered toothpicks. Stars are born and die, flares appear on the sun.

Beneath my feet the plates of the earth are grinding slowly toward each other.

Anniversary Poem

July 18, 1981

45^th Wedding Anniversary

As ocean tides, our spirits rise and fall.

We try to look for things to make us glad,

And think of each of you, the ones we call

The best of everything we’ve ever had.

Our faithful daughters and loyal sons,

Together with us tumbling down the stream

Awash with stones, both smooth and jagged ones,

Until sharp edges with some polish gleam.

And looking at the places where we were,

In channels that were turning, changing, growing

To waters calm and shores that we prefer,

Our pride is in the constancy you’re showing.

So in our arms your little girls we fold

Express our love, and place the world on ‘hold.’

Treat Me Like A Stranger

Treat Me Like a Stranger

(December 1996)

Treat me like a stranger

With deference and charm.

Let my tender sensibilities

Never suffer harm.

Our fond companions vanish

Leaving us alone;

No smile upon my face.

You are stone.

Treat me like a stranger

With deference and charm

Let my tender sensibilities

Never suffer harm.

Stoneware Plates

My Stoneware Plates

I would like to tell you about a couple old plates I have in my cupboard. They are perfectly white old stoneware of a generous size and so heavy that they are practically indestructible. Since there are only two of them I never used them when company came.

My husband and I became very fond of these plates. I think it was because the food looked so good on them, the green of the peas and the orange of the carrots standing out against the stark white and there was room on them to keep each portion separate.

On these plates, the first fruits of the garden became a celebration, and my husband’s home-baked beans became fit for a king. We liked to draw our chairs up to each side of the little table with our plates laden before us and relax in each other’s company. Sitting there, we knew we were lucky. I’m glad we didn’t take it for granted and we expressed our appreciation of the food and our circumstances often.

Since he died, few things evoke his presence more than these empty white plates. They stay in the cupboard now.

I still enjoy my life. I have a loving family, my friends care and I have more to do than there is time to do it in, but when meal time comes around a sandwich in front of the TV does not compare to our own simple meals for two served up on the old stoneware plates.

…

Just as I finished writing this, Krista Beth came in and asked, “What are you writing, Gram?” I asked if she’d like to read it. When she had read it all she said, “Gram, I’ll come over and eat with you.”

So next morning she arrived, fresh from her shower, bringing bacon borrowed from her mother. We laid a pretty cloth and napkins, fixed the eggs, bacon and toast and put on some of Hannah’s raspberry jam. We sang the familiar old blessing, lit the candles and enjoyed each other’s company.

There were only two of the old white stoneware plates before us but that morning, I’m sure there were three present at the table.

Hallmark

April 14, 1991

My eyes have been known to water when choosing a Hallmark card for a friend. I never choose one with a long verse since they are bound to be too saccharin if they run on too long. The succinct ones are better – “I’m proud of you” – or “I’m glad you are my friend.” – simple sentiments one could easily write ones-self if one choose. But if you did, would they think you were too cheap to pay a buck for the card?

Perhaps the fact that the message is second hand dilutes the raw emotion enough to make it acceptable. Too bad. But good for Hallmark!

Gardening at 81

May 26, 1999

Help! I’m having a geriatric crisis! I always thought it would happen, but not yet. This year I can’t get down on my knees to plant my seedlings. The poor spindly things are looking out the window at the garden. I hope they can hold out until I find a garden seat where I can sit and work. I’m having therapy and I think it is helping – meanwhile I remember and thank God for all those years I worked in my garden on my knees.