Don't let the libraries burn!

With another school year behind us and summer well underway, these are often the months we get to spend with our friends and family members.  With that, I thought I’d share a few thoughts.  As usual, this past year seemed to pass more quickly than the last – which always seems to be the case.  (I actually wrote about this in a previous post - I I knew how to link it here, I would.)  While much of my writing is focused on economic, financial, or philanthropic updates; this one will not.  In fact, I’ll share with you now that this article may be more of a self-serving recap of my own life and lessons learned than most of you will care to hear, so don’t be ashamed to crumple it up and toss it now; there will be no quiz.

            A very dear friend and colleague, Scott Farnsworth, shared in his book an analogy and a proverb that I’d like to pass along...  

For several centuries, the library in Alexandria, Egypt was the crowned jewel of the Western intellectual world.  At its height, it is estimated that it stored over 700,000 scrolls containing vast knowledge and achievements including translations of the Bible from Hebrew to Greek, the calculation of the shape and size of the earth, the creation of geometry, and important advances in anatomy and science.  The library stood for 300 years until a fire destroyed much of it during Julius Caesar’s conquest in 48 B.C.  Additional branches were destroyed during the campaign of Aurelius in 272 A.D., as well as in 391 A.D. when the bishop of Alexandria had it burned to the ground.  It is staggering to consider the loss of insights, knowledge, and wisdom that may have been lost forever in the burning of this library.  As tragic as this loss may have been, similar losses are occurring every day when any one of us, young or old, dies without sharing our accumulated wisdom, values, and stories.
 

“When an old person dies, it’s like a library burning down.”

-Middle Eastern Proverb

Three years ago, three very extensive libraries in my life burnt to the ground, a fourth just a year prior.  While some volumes of information have been saved, surely much more has been lost.  With this came many cherished moments that I’ll treasure, as well as several regrets that I’ll carry for the remainder of my life.  That I’m sharing the stories of the passing of all four of my grandparents within an 18 month period is not for pity, but rather to inspire you to cherish your own family and every moment you’ll have with them.

G'ma P with Maddox

My paternal grandmother (“Grandma Ponsford”) upgraded in September of 2008; she was 87.  Grandma Ponsford spent the majority of her life as a preacher’s wife; and fit the mold perfectly - a wonderful cook and entertainer, behind the scene implementer, event coordinator and relationship builder.  She remembered all birthdays, anniversaries, names, and while somewhat strict and disciplined, was never cross (at least not to her perfect grandchildren).  Her health had been slipping and became clear that at 90, Grandpa’s ability to care for and cover for her was declining.  My Dad and his two sisters were looking for a place that would be able to accommodate her needs. 

On a warm San Diego day in early September, after looking at potential places with her two daughters, Grandma expressed that she really didn’t want to move.  She felt she would be fine and wanted to prove to them that she and Grandpa could continue on their own.  The next morning, she woke up, got done up for the day, put on a favorite outfit, and suggested they go out and do some shopping.  They would see just how well she would do…  After a couple hours, she was spent.  Arriving at home, she told her daughters that now she understood.  She was not in good enough health to continue without care.  That night, they cried together, told stories, and she began her good-byes.  Grandma Ponsford never woke up. 

G'pa P at our wedding

As one would expect after nearly 70-years of marriage, we were all very concerned about Grandpa.  At 90, he was still driving (yikes!), active with his church group (the “Fantastics”), but clearly dependent on Grandma.  We weren’t sure how long he’d be able to carry on.  Since they lived in San Diego, I was extremely fortunate to be able to begin spending more time with Grandpa.  We made it a point to meet weekly for an early breakfast.  Here we discussed all sorts of topics – some meaningless, some insightful.  He told me about his days on the farm, experiences in the ministry, friends he and Grandma had made, and lives they had impacted.  He often shared his worldly wisdom; most relating to the importance of relationships and how to treat people.  One bit of wisdom, however, did catch me a bit off-guard: “Ryan, one thing you must know about getting old.”  “What’s that Grandpa?”  “You can’t trust your farts.”  Ewww…  (Sorry!)  Grandpa talked about all the old people (most 10-20 years younger than him) complaining about their ailments, slouching over, and forgetting the good parts about life.  He made it a point to stand tall and share something positive and reinforcing to someone every day.  He admitted some were more challenging than others, but stuck to the task.  Over time, the conversations became more and more about missing Grandma, and wondering why God wouldn’t just take him to her.  He told me he prayed for that nearly every night.  He wasn’t sure of his purpose here.  In hindsight, although I’m sure he had no idea of the impact he would make, perhaps his purpose was those breakfasts with me, perhaps lunches with someone else, but I know our time spent will always be a cherished time in my life.      

When Grandpa flew to visit his three kids, I got to take him to the airport and escort him to the gate.  (Times had changed a bit since he was accustomed to flying.)  In January of 2010, I took him to the airport when he went to see his daughter (Aunt Pat) in Idaho.  Having recently lost the freedom of his car, and with signs indicating he would soon be beyond the level of care he could receive at his current location, being in the more constant care of Aunt Pat seemed like the best decision.  On the trip to the airport, and as we waited in the terminal, we spoke about our family, about the value of the time we’d been able to spend together, and that while the world had changed around him, the premise and purpose had not.  He was about to turn 92, and he felt like this was a pretty good number.  Sharp as ever, but ready to move on, Grandpa left to join Grandma in February, less than two weeks after arriving in Idaho.  

            Many have heard the stories about my maternal grandparents, Ralph and Dotty Olson.  They were the song-singing, story-telling, dream-creating owners of Akili the elephant.  My brothers, cousins, and even several childhood friends spent summers at their place in Etna, CA bailing hay, scooping elephant droppings (more like mountains), laying railroad tracks, performing for the town, working in their restaurant, hiking Etna Creek, and whatever else they could come up with to keep us occupied.  In 2008, Jen and I were very fortunate to have Grandma and Grandpa O come and stay with us from Thanksgiving until Christmas.  What a hoot to spend each evening hearing stories, playing cards and interacting with wonderful grandparents.  For Grandpa, his final few years had become very difficult.  He began to suffer from a form of depression and anxiety that was difficult for him to escape.  Always a big (really big!) project builder, I think much was related to his frustration over his physical body’s no longer being able to keep up with his mind and plans. 

G'ma & G'pa O

Shortly after their stay at our house, I began to come to grips with the fact that they wouldn’t be here forever.  I needed a way to capture as much of them as possible.  I talked to Grandpa Ralph about a way to document his stories, sayings, memories, songs, and all else he loved sharing with us.  As a former professor of linguistics, his preferred method was to write.  We began a project called “Letters from Grandpa.”  I mailed him an initial series of questions to get him thinking; then he would respond in a letter.  He created a plan to send it to all the grandkids along with a quiz question and prizes for those who would respond.  Unfortunately, we only got through two letters before his health began to decline and he no longer felt up to the task.  In February of 2010 (when Grandpa Ponsford passed), all three of my brothers and I would be in the same place for the memorial service in San Diego.  Since Grandpa Ralph hadn’t been doing too well, we thought we would try to figure a way to all get to see him at the same time.  As “luck” would have it, my brother (a pilot) was asked to fly a client down to San Diego that same weekend.  He would be empty on the way back north, so the four of us (as well as my Dad) could fly up with him and drive from there to see Grandpa Ralph. 

G'pa O, WWII

This chance to visit with him turned out to be very meaningful.  Although he was pretty out of it the first day, the second day we were there he snapped into his old self.  We sang songs – camp songs and countless hymns, told stories, and reminisced about all the wonderful adventures we’d had.  We all loaded into the car and took a drive through the valley where he shared more stories about the changes over the years.  While we had a wonderful time of bonding and sharing with each other, there was a looming sadness about the realty of the situation.  This could very well be our final time together in this world.  There was so much more to capture, to download, to preserve.  About a month later, two days after the birth of our daughter, and a week before his 89th birthday, Grandpa Ralph said goodbye with my uncle at his side.  The family returned to Etna where we celebrated his life through story and song. 

With three of my four grandparents gone, only Grandma Dotty remained.  Far tougher than nails, she was sure to have many good years left to enjoy with us.  In May of that same year (2010), she made it to Southern California to watch my cousin (her granddaughter) on a tour stop of their dance program.  She also made it to San Diego for the concert with our quartet.  We planned a family event for the 4^th of July in Etna, a holiday that was always celebrated in our family; a time to honor our military (Grandpa was WWII vet), celebrate our freedom, and spend time as a family.  (It was also the day we celebrated Akili’s birthday.)  As July approached, we were getting word from those around Grandma that she didn’t seem to be feeling well.  She was always very resistant to see a doctor, but had actually gone several times in the past couple weeks.  Although she refused many of the exams and tests, they were clearly concerned.  This wasn’t good at all.  Grandma had written a book about her adventures in owning Akili, her elephant.  I had offered to edit, format and take it through publishing.  (I had no idea what this entailed.)  I had started the process, but was far from complete with the editing of a 200 page book written in her style. 

Me with G'ma O

As we made our way north for the 4^th, we were getting constant updates and things seemed much worse than we had anticipated.  All of the family arrived into Etna on the 2^nd and surrounded her on July 3^rd.  She spent time with each of us, ensuring she knew exactly who was there.  I had pulled together a version of her book.  Not published, but in somewhat of a final form.  As she would want, our entire family gathered with her that afternoon and sang hymns, laughed and cried together.  We weren’t sure she’d make it though the day.  At the time, we also weren’t aware of what she’d written on the inside of her Bible on July 4^th, 2001:

“July 4^th, Independence Day: Independence from Life unto Death –

When my life here is ended and I slip into the Great Beyond,

Still left behind will be Dear Family and Friends who are not yet ready to come along,

My desire is that no one will weep,

As I close my eyes for the final sleep, 

I’ve soared away to my Heavenly Father – Loved ones and friends awaiting me there,

I too shall have no worry or care;

I’ll be waiting for you in this beautiful place – somewhere! 

Please have a service – just in happy memories we’ve shared. 

Celebrate – Celebrate – don’t carry burdens too heavy to bear

Have songs of Redemption and Love, like Glorious Freedom, This World is not my Home, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms, Jesus Loves Me;

Good scriptures, like Psalms 64:8, 2 Timothy 4:7-8, Isaiah 43:18-19;

Sing another song!

Throw my ashes into the wind, Sing, Smile, Laugh, and be Happy!”

–        Dorothy Helen Schroeder Olson

We also found out later that she had told a close friend earlier in the year that she thought she’d go out on the 4^th of July.  That was always a favorite holiday and there would be plenty of fireworks to celebrate.  The morning of the 4^th, Grandma Dotty passed to join all the others (including four of her five children and elephant). 

            While we lost nearly an entire generation that year, the moments we were able to spend with each of them were well beyond priceless.  My breakfasts with Grandpa Ponsford, letters from Grandpa O, and working through a book with Grandma Dotty – each among the cherished moments of 2010.  Going forward, my mission will include being intentional about capturing and saving more of these stories and lessons for our family as will as being a resource for others to do the same. 

            Many of us list “family” as one of the most important things in life.  Let’s make it a point to pay special attention to listening to those that have vast volumes of information stored in their mental libraries.  It’s easy to get bogged down in work, life, materials, and all the other hoopla.  Let’s focus on re-reading some of those stories that our family has stored.  Don’t let your libraries burn down.  You never know, there may be additional chapters you’ve missed in the past! 

Cheers,

RyP