Wind in My Face

My mom has the thoughtful habit of sending cards for birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, and illness. My dad has the thoughtful habit (and duty) of mailing those cards for her. It may not be at the closest post office, but wherever his motorcycle takes him. Today, I had the duty (and honor) of helping by going along for the ride.

There is a quotation (or maybe a poem... I tend not to check details as much when I am away from home), something like "One is nearer God's heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth." [But I did check after I got home. It is credited to Dorothy Frances Gurney.] Perhaps an argument could be made for substituting "on a motorcycle" for "in a garden" just by being so vulnerable. Whenever I climb on the back on the motorcycle, I am aware of the need to be ready to die (only half joking to myself). But today, the wind in my face (and there was Wind!) seemed to blow away loose cancer cells and to pump fresh healthy air into my body. And I was more aware of the need to be ready to live.

Or to take a nap. ;)

Just kidding. No nap. Afterward, we planted bush beans in his garden.

Jo's Boys

I liked playing with the Louisa May Alcott title, even though this is not just about Jo's boys.

John and I are up north for a few days, visiting my parents and generally celebrating my dad's 75th birthday.

Sunday, we all drove two hours west to visit our farm cousins at Kewadin, and to celebrate the 90th birthday of Jo (Josephine) Bargy. Every family vacation of my growing up years, we would drive up to the Bargy farm and camp out, while my dad found chores to do. I learned up close that milk comes from cows, and that cherries grow on trees, and that there is no vacation from chores. My brother learned even more intimately, as he spent the summer before his senior year of high school working there. And he keeps going back.

Jo's "boys" are sons Larry and Lon. Larry's wife Alice was not well enough to attend the birthday party. Lon's wife Ann was there, as were grandchildren and great-grandchildren, siblings, neices, nephews, cousins. A particular hero to me is Jo's granddaughter Anna, who is 10 years younger (is that all?), is married to Dan, is mother to Natalie, works at the Post Office four days a week, but also works as, and is at heart, a farmer.

How can anyone who loves to eat not love farmers?

I recently finished reading a book called The Last Farmer, An American Memoir by Howard Kohn. (It was a gift of relatives of the author when we moved from Traverse City, and it was about time I read it!) His family lived on a Saginaw Valley farm for generations. But no one of his generation stayed to take it over. There were other callings drawing them away from the farm, and an economy that made it harder to stay.

If you ask me who is more important, an oncologist or a farmer, I could not chose one, of course. Both are essential for life.

Today, back at my folks' place, according to my dad, it is time for potato planting.

"Blessed are you God our King, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth..."
(Along with your partners, the farmers...)