The measure of a man

A poem I once read and taught from spoke to the heart about a trip by the poet to the home of his youth. In it, he spoke of how much smaller than his memories were the realities of the mountains, now barely hills, the river, now barely a creek, and the schools which seemed so large as he started his education, and now seemed so small as he returned from the city in which his life now unfolded.

In celebration of last Memorial Day, my spouse and I drove to Torrington to visit Mom and Dad’s grave. I think of my parents often, and their relationship with the know-it-all son that they put up with for so many years until he finally caught on to the fact that he really didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t even know all the questions.

As the years passed, he began to see his parents with wiser eyes. The above poet noted that contrary to all his memories of the geography of his youth, there was one thing that grew over the years — his father. As I stood there beside Jim and Dorothy’s grave site, I thought how they had grown so in my estimation. That so many details of my life were the result of parenting decisions they had made, and actions they had taken on behalf of my future, if not for my present. I thought of the many times I was frustrated because they just didn’t “understand”, and how many times I had told them that everybody else’s parents were letting my friends do things or go places. And why couldn’t I?!

Mom and Dad have become giants to me. How did they learn all the things they thought so important to teach their off spring? Where did that skill they exercised so expertly in providing their children the example of what people who worked together for a goal could accomplish. How is it that I was so lucky in picking them as parents? And, how I look forward to seeing them again as my faith assures me it will be so.

It is surely true that I am not alone in the memories of parents. How is it then that we think as a country, that bitterness, anger and hatred will lead to the achievement of worthy goals. We revere Lincoln and remember his admonition that “a house divided cannot stand.” It wasn’t by chance or accident that this wise man picked the family unit to bring a lesson about the appropriate manner that must be used to face the inevitable problems existing in every society.

People come onto the stage and exit from the same. Their successes are bragged about, and their failures spun. History judges them with hindsight that is always 20/20, or so the historians claim. The sum of our countries’ parts is larger than the parts themselves. If we ignore this, then the above will no longer be true.