“April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”
- T.S. Eliot,
The Wasteland
As April comes to its closing days, I take a few moments to pause and reflect.
In many, many ways the poet, T.S. Eliot, was entirely correct in naming April as somewhat of a “cruel” month. The re-emergence of the flowers, grasses, leaves, and blossoms bring to memory the days of years past…the places that have changed, the individuals which have Journeyed onward throughout the course of our Lives.
ON THE ROAD AGAIN…
Over the past week, I have chosen to take the advice of the medical teams overseeing my treatments and recoveries…and, have attempted to “slow down” somewhat for a day or two.
During one of these “slowdowns,” and because the weather was incredibly agreeable, I decided to take an afternoon journey along with my ever-agreeable furry companion , HOBBES. So, without further discussion, we climbed into our classic SUV, and headed-off to reminisce along the trails of our local Region.
At the start of our afternoon jaunt, we passed many, many venues, each of which sparked an entire series of memories. Unfortunately, among the places we passed, were many, many locales which, throughout the decades of my Life, have either fallen into total disrepair, or, have become totally abandoned and forelorn. Buildings which once housed the shops of incredibly talented local merchants expert in the fields of distinct personnel manufacture, now seemed so very lonely…their masters having now been long-departed. Blacksmiths’, welders’, woodworkers’, and even winemakers’, shops are empty…their windows laced with the tears of abandoned Hope for their occupants’ returns.
The second floor of a building which once housed a local dancehall, now echoes only in my mind with the melodies of generations gone by. Its main floor, once a Mom & Pop grocery, also a post office, then a series of local cookeries, is currently totally without clientele. Its windowshades completely drawn to hide its vacancy.
The local bowling alley, former ice cream stand, motel, and hotel have all taken upon themselves completely new identities…if they exist at all.
Heading southward on South Lake road, a small campground which once offered campsites to those with tents, is shut-off from Life. The small bait stand which stood across the road from the campsite’s entrance has also vanished. Its young owner, who I remember wished to become a Park Ranger…where has he gone? Were his Dreams fulfilled??? I pray that they were!
Heading towards Jamestown, Hobbes and I noticed the many homes and cabins which in former years were the sites of tremendous Joy and serenity that now had collapsed, and are more than forgotten. Their footprints becoming gradually returned to the Earth.
TURNING NORTHWARD…
Of course, we stopped our vehicle to pause and reflect upon the site which once was home to the beloved Espyville Beach. Exiting the SUV, we made our way down to the waterfront, and sat upon the crumbling seats of one of the Park’s picnic tables. As the waves caressed the slips and the boats now moored at the marina, I imaging I could actually hear the voices of me childhood and teenage Friends echoing in the surf. Among the sound were the whispers of my Mom & Dad’s voices urging me to “never give up.”
The changing rooms, outhouses, water pumps…no more parts of the scene…but, still there Forever in our Hearts.
OFF TO THE “NEW” CAMPGROUND…
The final step of our Journey that afternoon took us to the roadway leading into the lanes of Tuttle Campground. The signs eminently posted informed us that the beach, campsites, etc. were now completely closed due to budgetary problems. Admission to the area was, however, still permissible. We proceeded.
Travelling ever so slowly, I stopped at every site at which Carolyn and I had camped while in first days of our relationship and marriage. I recalled to Hobbes the welcome coolness of the showers in the bathhouses…frigid, in retrospect, but WONDERFUL after a day of frolicking on the beach and at the campsite. We paused also at the trailhead near the campground’s former camp store. It was upon this trailway which Carolyn and I found the horseshoe which we now have eternally installed at the top of of front porch step overhang.
BACK HOME AGAIN…
As we pulled into our home driveway, and Hobbes exited the vehicle, I attempted my best to camouflage all my sorrows from Carolyn’s vision.
THEN…I turned…and faced the woods on the western part of our homestead.
AND…what met my eyes???
There emerging near the base of one of the many trees on that part of our property, and successfully rising in full bloom from under the rotten and crumbling log of one of the fallen trees…was a “herd” of radiantly gorgeous Daffodils rising in total defiance of their surroundings.
LIFE….LIFE…rising from under the fallen leaves…from beneath the hardships of their unkind environment! Moreover: who had planted them? NOT I! I had no idea whatsoever as to from where they had come.
I slowly made my way to their side..knelt down upon the moist, fallen leaves of years past, and realized then what the poet was REALLY saying.
Hidden beneath the hardships and the crumblings…whispering to us through the lips of our former Friends, Family Members, and acquaintances, lies the TRUE essence of April, and, indeed, of EVERY moment of EVERY day. Just like the Daffodils that arose from nowhere, Life arises unshaken and unexpected from our Hearts, our unwillingness to be defeated, our movement forward upon the never-ending Seasons of our Lives. This is a lesson which I am learning even now…perhaps NOW more than ever before.
“Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.”
- Walt Whitman,
When Lilacs Last
in the Dooryard Bloom’d