My granddad who is now over 90 fought in World War 2 as a sailor in the U.S. Navy. Sometime during the war he had his forearm tattooed, with a symbol I could never decipher, and words that had little meaning for me as a child: This too shall pass. In our current moment, when tattoo sightings are about as rare as spotting someone wearing a t-shirt or a hat, it's hard to imagine just how exotic, and unchurchy this tattoo seemed to a young boy. A young boy, who belonged to a conservative Baptist church and excelled at scripture memorization and Sword drills. Sword drills sound awesomingly cool, and they are! You are given a verse and then you take your sword (the Bible - the sword of the Spirit) and race to find the verse the fastest. I loved it, and if I may say so, I was quite good with my sword. Maybe, not the undefeated champion - but take my word for it - really good. As a boy excelling at sword drills, I did not run into many people with tattoos at my church, but there it was on my granddad's arm. And the tattoo was especially hard too miss as he would light or take a drag on one of his unfiltered Pall Malls. Pall Malls (or any cigarette or smoking device for that matter), were also not commonly sighted in my conservative church. I have vivid memories of being in my grandparents living room and watching absolutely mesmerizing shifting clouds of smoke hanging halfway between the floor and the ceiling. These clouds far surpassed whatever programming was coming from the floor model TV - after all, 38 years later I can recall as if I am still there the shifting cloud, with something of the same wonder I had then, but for the life of me I would be hard pressed to recount a program I watched on the floor model TV. I was so captured by the smoke (and my dear, beautiful and diligent mom kept the proof that the smoke captured me), that all my kindergarten workbooks are filled with pictures of a wide variety of animals and people (but mainly dogs), with pipes in their mouths and lovely plumes of smoke billowing from the pipes goin over their heads. Anywhere in my letter books, where the authors asked for a picture I filled it in with animals and people, pipes firmly affixed, and plumes of smoke pouring forth. Picture of people sledding? Gleeful animals and peoples speeding down a hill, pipes in mouth, smoke trailing behind. Swimming? Head and arms poking out of the water, pipe in mouth - smoke rising to the clouds. Where the letter book authors didn't ask me to draw, but had drawn pictures for me, I helped the authors by drawing in the pipes and smoke that they had forgot to supply. My granddad, did not smoke a pipe, but my uncle did and he was as cool and unchurchy as my granddad. The pipe smelled fantastic, and he was frequently at my grandparents when I was also there - weekends and holidays. The smoke and the tattoo made an indelible impression on me, that I in kindergarten obviously attempted to record for posterity. In short I loved my granddad and my uncle and my whole family and life- seemed simply as enchanted as the smoke that hung between the floor and the ceiling of my grandparents' living room.
That time of my life has passed (though it is retained in my memory - even though it is likely that I do not have a single atom in my body at present that I had as a kindergartner! -those atoms have been passed on to a different part of the universe). My granddad's tattoo has absolutely been proven correct time and time again. My guess is that the tattoo was meant as a comfort during the horrors of an awful war, and being away from home on a foreign sea. This too shall pass. It did pass. World War 2 is over. My granddad returned home. He built the house he still lives in with my fantastic grandma, whom he married over 70 years ago!, and with whom he raised three sons, the middle one being my dad. But, not only the war has passed, the childhood of his sons has passed, the childhood of his son's children have passed, (I along within all my cousins are fully grown - shoot, if I like my granddad live to be 90, I am precisely at this moment middle-aged - half my life has passed), and some of the childhoods of his son's children's children has passed - like my oldest daughter's who has now entered college. The childhood of some of his great-grandchildren has passed!
My granddad as a boy knew his great-granddad, who had been a drummer boy in the American civil war for the union army. My granddad has told me a story about helping his great-granddad Wesley go and purchase a horse when Wesley was in his eighties, and Wesley riding it barebacked for over thirteen miles. Wesley has - as you will have guessed - long since passed. The past, good and bad, has obviously passed. And, just like 2015 has passed, this year, 2016 will pass. As will I. As will you. Sorry, that sounds a little depressing, but, my friends, it is true - This too shall pass.
I love that tattoo, but more, I love the man, on whose arm it is inked. And, today on this first day of 2016, in this passing moment, I am grateful for the moments that have passed, and I hope to receive as gifts with gratitude the passing moments to come. And, with gratitude for the amazing moments of the past, I am simultaneously thankful, that some moments have passed I am heartened to know that the dreadful moments of the past, have passed. After all the civil war has passed, as has World War 2, as has the Vietnam war - in which my dad served. Legalized slavery has passed. Jim Crow has passed.
So 2016 - This too shall pass ... this election cycle; the Red Wings' season; MSU's playoff run to the football National championship has passed; this wonderful season of my life with beautiful growing kids who learn and play and laugh and at times are simply wonderful reminders of living in the moment - this too shall pass; this season when my kids are irresponsible and times don't seem to pick up one damn thing they get out or one mess they make - this too shall pass; this agonizing season when I am again in the midst of trying to figure out what to do for work - this too shall pass; this season when I feel an amazing amount of freedom from the anxiety of religious structures - this too shall pass; this season when I am at moments so angry at the structures of religion that grind people up that I feel like cussing like I imaging the sailors on my granddad's ship cussed - this season shall pass; this season when I am so thankful for family and friends for the journey who love me and would love me even if I did cut loose and cuss like a sailor - this too shall pass. This too shall pass like the shifting cloud of smoke that hung between the floor and ceiling of my grandparent's living room. (Incidentally my granddad quit smoking cold turkey in his sixties! - the stage of his life where he was a smoker too passed).
In this passing year, I'm hoping to live in the present - after all what are the other options? - receiving as gifts wonderful moments as treasures that are passing. And, I hope to live with deep hope knowing that the excruciatingly painful moments that are also certain to arrive- whether I would have them or not - too shall pass.
And the writing of my first post of 2016 too has passed.
That time of my life has passed (though it is retained in my memory - even though it is likely that I do not have a single atom in my body at present that I had as a kindergartner! -those atoms have been passed on to a different part of the universe). My granddad's tattoo has absolutely been proven correct time and time again. My guess is that the tattoo was meant as a comfort during the horrors of an awful war, and being away from home on a foreign sea. This too shall pass. It did pass. World War 2 is over. My granddad returned home. He built the house he still lives in with my fantastic grandma, whom he married over 70 years ago!, and with whom he raised three sons, the middle one being my dad. But, not only the war has passed, the childhood of his sons has passed, the childhood of his son's children have passed, (I along within all my cousins are fully grown - shoot, if I like my granddad live to be 90, I am precisely at this moment middle-aged - half my life has passed), and some of the childhoods of his son's children's children has passed - like my oldest daughter's who has now entered college. The childhood of some of his great-grandchildren has passed!
My granddad as a boy knew his great-granddad, who had been a drummer boy in the American civil war for the union army. My granddad has told me a story about helping his great-granddad Wesley go and purchase a horse when Wesley was in his eighties, and Wesley riding it barebacked for over thirteen miles. Wesley has - as you will have guessed - long since passed. The past, good and bad, has obviously passed. And, just like 2015 has passed, this year, 2016 will pass. As will I. As will you. Sorry, that sounds a little depressing, but, my friends, it is true - This too shall pass.
I love that tattoo, but more, I love the man, on whose arm it is inked. And, today on this first day of 2016, in this passing moment, I am grateful for the moments that have passed, and I hope to receive as gifts with gratitude the passing moments to come. And, with gratitude for the amazing moments of the past, I am simultaneously thankful, that some moments have passed I am heartened to know that the dreadful moments of the past, have passed. After all the civil war has passed, as has World War 2, as has the Vietnam war - in which my dad served. Legalized slavery has passed. Jim Crow has passed.
So 2016 - This too shall pass ... this election cycle; the Red Wings' season; MSU's playoff run to the football National championship has passed; this wonderful season of my life with beautiful growing kids who learn and play and laugh and at times are simply wonderful reminders of living in the moment - this too shall pass; this season when my kids are irresponsible and times don't seem to pick up one damn thing they get out or one mess they make - this too shall pass; this agonizing season when I am again in the midst of trying to figure out what to do for work - this too shall pass; this season when I feel an amazing amount of freedom from the anxiety of religious structures - this too shall pass; this season when I am at moments so angry at the structures of religion that grind people up that I feel like cussing like I imaging the sailors on my granddad's ship cussed - this season shall pass; this season when I am so thankful for family and friends for the journey who love me and would love me even if I did cut loose and cuss like a sailor - this too shall pass. This too shall pass like the shifting cloud of smoke that hung between the floor and ceiling of my grandparent's living room. (Incidentally my granddad quit smoking cold turkey in his sixties! - the stage of his life where he was a smoker too passed).
In this passing year, I'm hoping to live in the present - after all what are the other options? - receiving as gifts wonderful moments as treasures that are passing. And, I hope to live with deep hope knowing that the excruciatingly painful moments that are also certain to arrive- whether I would have them or not - too shall pass.
And the writing of my first post of 2016 too has passed.
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