In the early 1930’s during the autumn of the year,
my father stood in a bread line with his father
In downtown Detroit off Woodward Avenue
between deep breaths and the feeling of humility,
his father said, “Humor and love are essential.”
A few decades later, I remember my father coming home,
turning on some music and opening a couple of beers,
as my mother and he celebrated their life together
having moved into a brand new house.
Sometime during the late 1960’s
I remember discussing the events of the day
we talked for hours about human pursuits
and later I shared conversations with theologians
about the existential nature of existence
before I became a ‘missionary’ abroad.
After working and traveling to different places on Earth
listening to folklore, enhancing my knowledge
my father asked me what I thought
we shared translations of our journeys
with knowledge comes the realization how little we know
as fathers and sons do about the meaning of life…
and then my father became my best man at my wedding.
Different directions were pursued
I remember my father most in the things we cared about
laughing at the nonsense humans engage in
while retaining our sense of the tumultuous seas and
calm waters of a father and son relationship.
In the end we agreed in the spirit of Martin Luther’s thoughts,
that is, everyone must do two things alone,
our own believing and our own dying;
so we traveled our respective paths
understanding the blessings of ‘family’
and friendships made along the way.
Also, posted in Rhythms