Dear readers whoever you may be out there – this post is a departure from prior posts in that it is not written to entertain, as I will confess most of the previous posts attempt to do. I’ve never checked my statistics, and have no idea how many or who is reading my drivel, but I imagine, and always hope it is someone that hasn’t had the unique pleasure of rural life.
But tonight, as my wife and dogs are softly snoring, I am thinking about my mother-in-law who passed away not long ago. We had a celebration this last Sunday which was attended by nearly 100 people that Barbara Skinner had touched the lives of in some way.
She was the first librarian in what was then the new McBeath Community Library in Everson Washington. It’s just off the main drag of a small, mostly agricultural farm town. She served for eighteen years.
She, like many living in this area, was a transplant from more citified locales. She knew as much about living amidst the “upper crust” as she did about the intimate experience of birthing a baby lamb and the 4-H crowd. A terrific conversationalist, she could hold forth at a cocktail party and in the morning make beef tongue sandwiches for the kid's school lunch; a culinary experience I’m happy to have avoided. I don’t eat anything that could potentially talk back!
Many a night after dinner plates were cleared and the 2nd, 3rd, (4th?) espresso was consumed, she and I would sit and talk way past midnight while everyone else in the house was asleep. Those are the memories I will hold of a woman that showed me what wit, compassion, and a sharp mind can do.
If death is just a passage to another plain of existence, then I hope she and I can share the equivalent of a good gin & tonic and continue our conversation.
Onward Barb.
Yes, cheers to Bunny. Her memorial and the weekend spent with you and Steph were only the beginning of a series of realizations, not on any one thing: but for some reason the universe is presenting me with many opportunities to look deeper and contemplate the true meaning behind....
ReplyDeleteMy dad lives in TN, his home and everything he owns was flattened Wed. night by a tornado. For about 8 hours we didn't know if he was alive or dead. I am not close to my father. . but in those eight hours I could not help but remember my childhood with him; a time filled with curiosity and exploration. He was an excellent father, at least in the early years. Now that I know he is alive, I am wondering what I was thinking this last couple of decades, not maintaining a relationship with him.
Is this part of the meaning of death? Presenting an opportunity for those of us still alive to reflect and appreciate the many ways we can enrich each moment?
From my own experience, the passing of someone close has always prompted me to reach out to those still alive. Feel and share more deeply.
ReplyDeleteTornado/dad/house - WOW! What a scary thing to have experienced, not knowing. I hope if you decide to get in touch, it truly is enriching.
Brian, love to read your posts...just one question..Did your mother-in-low work at Ershings Engineering by chance?
ReplyDeleteKeep posting..