Days of Profound Gratitude – Thursday, 30 June 2011 – Part VII
Before the hospital visit concluded, I received a greater blessing of seeing another nephew whom I had not seen in years. Not surprisingly, I did not recognize him. He graciously overlooked my obvious failure to acknowledge him. This nephew anxiously and excitedly told me about his personal development during the intervening years. To my great delight, he encouraged his cousin, my son, to avoid his mistakes when he learned of my son's maniacal passion for basketball in particular and all sports in general. My second nephew asked my son, "What about your academic performance? Sports are fine but you have to have your academics to go places in life. Don't do what I did. I am now working toward my education." Delightfully, I encouraged my son to listen to his cousin's words of wisdom acquired from life's school of hard knocks. Sometimes, a distant relative or stranger's advice penetrates more deeply than a parent's directive. My nephew's admonition to my son reinforced my position within a longstanding debate about priorities and use of time and resources.
In the mid-afternoon, we left the hospital making two right turns onto Highway 401 which connects Lee and Sumter counties and the two towns of origin of my family. Mayesville, a village in Lee County, sprawls with soy bean, tobacco, cotton and corn fields. Littered amongst this expanse of diverse agriculture, farming and livestock, mostly pigs and hogs of myriad breeds, are ranch houses and mobile homes. Adjectives such as rural, rustic and sleepy adequately describe this ideally Southern and Carolinian setting. The people, my family and neighbors, who bought and worked this land, refer to it as "the country." As there are not any street lights or any other signs of city living, this local description is rather apropos.
"The country" holds a repository of experiential knowledge relating to farming, canning, recycling and living off the land. Back yard gardens fed large families well into the last decade of the twentieth century. Annual events such as May cucumber harvests, July peanuts, August canning of fruit and vegetables, and September hog slaughtering captured the cycle of interdependence between the people and the land. Most regrettably, those cultural fixtures have become social, historical and anthropological relics. The god of twenty-first century science and technology demands their sacrifice. As a consequence, I could only recite stories from my childhood history.
However, I was able to connect my children with this past by introducing them to my maternal grandmother. Almost a centenarian, she represents these traditions and cultural mores. The progression of mental dementia and normal demise of physical health in old age prevents her from sharing any personal history. Nonetheless, meeting her will remain memorable for my son and daughter. For me, this introduction equates with a historical magnum opus. Years will pass including the challenges and rewards of adolescence and early adulthood before my children will appreciate fully the wealth and worth of this visit.
Additionally, my children met an uncle and two other aunts who regaled them with griot-like stories. They learned of my maternal family's church, work history and large numbers. Essentially, they learned a part of their own history. As a student of history and religion, I am particularly grateful to witness this experiential lesson. As this day of profound gratitude progressed toward early evening, I continually give thanks to Almighty God for His goodness as the multiple visits heretofore brought healing and inner peace. My worst fears did not emerge and were not realized.
No comments:
Post a Comment