Thanks and Birthdays

  

            We have a number of birthdays coming up. Our kids count the days until the great day arrives. Yes, I can remember when my birthday would approach. The anticipation  was sometimes almost overwhelming. My wife says that at one of her birthdays when she was little, she got herself so worked up that when she opened a present that contained a new coat she so wanted, she actually forgot to breath, and fainted right over!

             Christmas still seems to have that same anticipated excitement for many of us, even when our own birthdays are not so quite a big thing as they used to be. And, I know, some actually remain twenty nine for fifty years or more in the hope that another birthday does not arrive.

            But this got me to thinking about birthdays; so many coming  crowding in on the farm in December. Just why do we celebrate a birthday? Why do we wish that someone has a particularly good day on their birthday? Don’t we wish well of our neighbor, especially those we love, every day? Or yet again, isn’t there a sort of loneliness, sometimes a real hurt if a loved one forgets our birthday. Or worse, for those who have no one that wishes them a happy birthday?

            And then the happiest thought came to me. It’s all about gratitude isn’t it. When we wish someone a happy birthday, are we not saying that we are really happy that they were born? That we really are thankful that they exist. That they add something special to our lives? something to are lives that no other could?

            What an amazing thing to be born. To be born. WOW! To be born into the world to make others lives better. That’s really what we’re celebrating are we not? That our lives are better now that they have been born. So really birthdays are not so much for myself, what I get out of them, but are really a chance for others to shower gratitude upon us for being born and making their lives more delightful.

            I think that is at the root of the hurt when someone’s birthday is forgotten. They don’t get any thank you's for being born? What, haven’t they  affected anyone’s life in a good way?

            This time it was the coming of birthdays that brought about a Thanksgiving  reflection.  Now, the remote birth of our nation to be sure.

            But oh so many birthdays to celebrate in my life. My parents, my wife, my children and so many friends and benefactors. Well my list would fill volumes. So this Thanksgiving is a renewal of the thought of gratitude. Just plain awesome gratitude for all of you.

 Oh. And yes , my twenty ninth birthday is  00 /  ** / ##. And don’t forget.

 

Have a very blessed Thanksgiving,

David Cools
www.jdoakes.com

 

A Fall Reflection

 

             It’s the time of year when fall has taken over for good. No more leaves hanging on tenaciously, refusing to give up to make way for the winter. The last of the geese have flown south. Everything is bare in comparison to summer and fall colors. A time of death for the annuals, who will only live vicariously through the growth of their seeds next spring. A time of partial dying for the perennials who will burst forth in their new life come springtime. Can’t help but be a somewhat reflective time of year.

 

            I, along with others had to bury a great man not to long ago. The greatest man I have known, a man I had the privilege of calling a friend, a friendship of unequal’s to be sure, but a friend indeed. Although I did not hear it this time,  it is not uncommon at these times to hear the statement from comforters who say, “Well, at least he died doing what he loved.” And I have nodded in agreement. Yes, surely that is a blessing. So much so that even I would like to be blessed in that way.

             But, I have always felt an uneasiness with that statement being quite an adequate eulogy. I think I know now what unsettled me. It’s this. What is the most important? That I do what I love? Or what it is that I love?

             Mightn’t I love the wrongs things and then have hell to pay?

              I think it is great if I can do what I love, maybe even die doing it, but I so want to make sure that I am loving the right things.

             I must make sure my loves are right. An awesome responsibility. Then, and only then, do I want to do what I love.

             My aged friend was a pilot that guided so many of us in the pursuit of getting that right. May he rest in Peace.

Have a great day!

David

www.jdoakes.com

 

Lots of Buzzing but Few Bees

  

            This summer sure felt like the Year of the Wasp. Hundreds of thousands if not millions covered the landscape. An unmistakable hum accompanied me wherever I went. If I looked at the ground, it seemed as if not less than one hornet was searching for food there. They canvassed every rise and fall, nook and cranny. Not one of my children escaped at least one angry sting this summer.

             One time when playing they tore into an old decaying log only to be chased angrily by the mad hornets. They didn’t know that figuratively stirring up a hornets nest is better than literally doing it. Each got stung multiple times as they ran in terror. I had never seen such a plague of these yellow jacketed warriors in all my life.

             I mentioned this to a gentleman who stopped by the farm awhile back. I said to him, “The bees sure have been horrible this year.” He shot back, “Not bees, hornets. Bees are honeybees. Everything else is wasp or hornets, but not bees.” I see I had hit a nerve. A tender spot for him. You see, he raised bees, honeybees that is. I hadn’t thought about it enough to know that there was a distinction but for him it was important. He was a little sore on the subject. He explained that there is a great scarcity of honeybees. It’s extremely hard to keep a beehive alive now. His own colony has been greatly diminished.

             I take it whole food crops are being abandoned in California for want of enough honeybees to pollinate the flowers. Now I have a somewhat fond attachment to honeybees myself as I had the privilege to companionate (I just taught Noah Webster a new word!) my Dad when he would work the few Hobby Hives he had on our farm. I learned a lot about bees, and got a number of stinging rebukes from the little fellows myself when my learning got to close for their comfort. You’ll have to laugh with me on that in Volume Two of The Adventures of Nathaniel B. Oakes coming out soon.

 

            I guess it’s quite a growing concern for many countries around the world, this lack of honeybees. No bees, No food.

             Wasp can’t fill their place. They are they scavengers of others fruit and meat. In fact they love to steal honey from the honeybee.

 

            There have been many theories as to why the disappearing honeybees. Cell phone tower waves, and the plethora of electromagnetic waves pulsing  from our T.V’s, smart phones, ipads, etc. that mess with their navigation have been offered as explanations.  Nectar from genetically modified food being deficient for them has also been fingered. I do not propose that I have any notion as to why they are disappearing, but it did strike me metaphorically that if I want my hive ~ my home ~ to be “a land flowing with milk and honey” I had better know what influences I am allowing into it that will make it healthy or sick.
 

            Come to think of it, maybe our homes suffer from the same problems of the honeybees. The honeybees suffer from the electromagnetic waves themselves perhaps, and our homes from the morally reprehensible content that make up those waves. Do the waves that are allowed into my home foster, the True, the Good and The Beautiful? …Or not? 

            Well just as the beekeeper must make sure whatever is nourishing or sicklifying (sometimes Webster’s Dictionary doesn’t have just the right word, I had to find this one in David’s) his hive is properly attended to, so I must make sure the husbandry of my family is up to speed.

             I must keep those pesky wasps out, and make it comfortable for bees if I am to attain the promise of “a land flowing with milk and Honey.” Well, for the honey anyway. The cow will get her turn in good time.

Don’t get stung!

Have a great day,
David Cools
www.jdoakes.com