My grandfather knew Scott County. As a child he invited me to the Mississippi Valley Fair livestock barns in the early morning hours. Among the pleasant effervescent aromas, our time wasn’t just to prepare and admire the exhibition of Iowa’s strong cattle association. This was a lesson in community. My grandfather knew every farmer in each stall and we, well he, knew and conversed with all. I didn’t know them. To me they were just old men, not exactly a child’s desire at the fair to stand quietly unaware of the wisdom shared between these farmers.
Fast forward to 1984 when that great man died. Following the ceremonies, the procession headed to Mount Union Cemetery adjacent to his fertile land where his grandson and great grandkids still produce. There was no end to that procession. From the rears, beyond the horizon, mourners came to honor this man who honored his family: my father and uncle, and a Pearl of a grandmother; and the land and country he loved. To him it was community. Where he knew everybody.
Two years later, I joined another community in the United States Air Force and left that community after twenty-one years. But in the midst of living that dream, my father died along with my mother’s parents – grandparents of equal honor and recognition.
Today, childless and by myself, I live a father’s day that is at most unpleasant and at worst, well, something shy of hell. But my memories live on. My father visiting me in Las Vegas, playing on my church softball team. My maternal grandparents visiting me in Colorado shortly after my enlistment where my grandfather beamed at his grandson wearing and living Air Force blue.
Among many others, these memories thrill the past but terrify the future. Once grand dreams have died in desolation. But I know I’m not alone in this. Perhaps that is our community. While we may never meet, we are ever connected. Some may consider us failures; we are not.
Community hallmarks a man’s life. Through his actions he has built the tangible and the unseen. We can never truly understand the impact of our works either locally or globally, but as men we live, never truly giving up on our desires. I can’t build a life for a non-realized family, but I can for my four lovely nieces.
God reveals that a man with a full quiver is blessed, but the reverse is not necessarily true. Let us be and remain men. Building the community that we find of passionate worth. While I know I will never be either of my Grandfathers. I know that in a pure existential sense – I am.
Happy Father’s Day to ALL.