Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Thanksgiving 2012

As I was finishing up gathering leaves a few weeks ago, under a bright blue October sky,  I stopped to contemplate the scene. As the annual spectacle played out, I could not help but marvel and take delight in the particular surprises of this years autumnal offerings. The woods were on fire with color this year and the smells, at least on that day stirred up memories of other autumns and people associated with them.
People began to flood into my memory. People from childhood, from high school and college, people I haven't seen in decades, people who have long since passed away, and people I've met only recently. In my memory I was walking down Swain Avenue in Meriden, CT, on the middle leg of a 20 mile CROP hunger walk. It was autumn, and the day was equally crisp and bright. That was a great day. So many people cared. (Modern crop walks seem to be about 5k, kids were tougher back then.) That vision gave way to another autumn; mushroom hunting in the woods near Merimere Resevoir with my brothers and friends. I was willing to join in the hunt, but I confess to a lack of confidence when it came to eating our finds. Then I was at Pacific Lutheran University, in Tingelstad Hall on the fifth floor, sitting in the window sill, looking at the afternoon sun turning the snow fields of Mt. Rainier bright orange. Autumn images kept coming. There was Mt. Monadnock with a group of youth from Pilgrim Lutheran Church on a warm autumn day, and a golden view of the Great Gulf  from the top of Mt. Washington with Paula, and then I was riding my bike up to the summit of Mt. Greylock. The  sound of the wind in the trees was haunting and I recalled that the Mahicans revered the mountain and believed it was holy ground. (The five state view was worth the ride that day.)
Amid the flood of autumn memories, it is the people I remember the most. My grandfather Brenner and his friend Herman Gritz came to mind, crisp autumn air blowing in the doors of the church on Sunday morning as they ushered together. Walking with Prs. Fred McGee and Jack Kidder in the state forest in Colebrook, CT. Fishing on Long Pond in Maine with my brother, Gary (his ink and watercolor of the small fishing camp graces our fireplace mantel). Then there was fishing for Bluefish aboard the Hellcat on a choppy fall day off of Block Island. Paula and I were dating, and she learned a whole new language from the seasick fishermen; we caught some nice Bluefish too. Next, I was in Paula's parent's backyard watching young sons Stefen and Daniel "help" their grandfather rake leaves; and from there, my mind wandered to the Cumberland County (ME) fair. Grandparents, parents and children watching the Royal Canadian Mounties perform their equestrian show, and then over to the John Deere tractors. (Although both of Paula's parents have passed, I am sure our boys will carry their memories all their days.) Then I'm with my son Daniel, bushwhacking up Widow Whites peak (near Jiminy Peak in the Berkshires) exploring for cave formations. (Dan is a caver.) In the blink of an eye I'm at Immanuel Lutheran Church 40 years ago in the old parish building, another fall day. Food is being prepared. Ernie and Bettie Garbe are in the kitchen, as are Charlie and Charlotte Gardinier. There are cartons of milk from Sievert's Dairy Farm in the kitchen. Ken Ritchie comes to mind with a whole Confirmation Class of faces. Now I'm with Paula again, and we're hiking the trail toward the summit of Sleeping Giant state park. Goldenyellow leaves carpet the ground. We had driven up from Yale Divinity School for some relaxation...
The sound of a truck finally stirred me from contemplation and it was time to finish gathering up the leaves.
Yet, I am so thankful for the vision; for the wonderful memories of times and seasons gone by, for the faces of friends I haven't seen in years, who have had their own influence on my life, for laughter and love shared, for once in lifetime moments that cannot be re created, but will be remembered till I can't remember anymore. For parents and grandparents and the blessing of my beautiful Paula and our children, for harvest banquets that are cherished more with each passing year. O God, how marvelous are the works of your hands. How blessed are the thoughts you stir, the times you create, the love you pour out, and the memories with which you bless us. My heart is grateful; make it more so.
I hope each of you discovers a thousand reasons to be grateful and give thanks as you contemplate the seasons of your own lives.

Thanksgiving blessings to all, and

Peace.

No comments:

Post a Comment