Saying Goodbye, Part 4- Making Sense of It All

It's been a while since I wrote about my trip to West Virginia... Life happens, right?

Earlier, I wrote that:

When my grandpa finally moved in with my parents, I knew it was the "end of an era" in some ways. I imagined that I would never get a chance to go back, and had made peace with that. I convinced myself that I was a different person, I had different values, and I had left behind the Chuck who needed to find solace in the simpler ways and slower pace of the New River Gorge. I had made new friends, I had gained education and wisdom, I had discovered other mountains... Things had changed.

And now, I find myself preparing to get on a plane to fly over those mountains and then drive up those roads. Honestly, I'm somewhat afraid of what I'll find- not that the mountains or rivers ever change, but that I'll be confronted with how much my life has changed since I was 10. Some, I'm sure, will be positive things- my wife will be visiting with me, for instance- but there's also an echo of who I thought I would be and what I believed would be resonating through my life that I'll have to come face to face with.

I think that, ultimately, my trip back reminded me of who I am and what has formed me. As much as I'd like to pretend that I'm a self made person, that I'm not one of "those people from the midwest" ('red state people', they're also called in California. Nope, not a compliment), that I've somehow elevated myself 'past' all of it, the truth is that these things still run deep in my heart and in my mind. I find myself saying to Carrie, "I'm so my dad right now...", only to hear her say "And your grandpa. And that's not a bad thing".

So, I've been doing a little navel gazing lately- you know, "the unexamined life is not worth living", and all that stuff. Part of this is due to the autobiographies that Carrie and I are working on for our adoption process, part of this is due to the trip to WVa, part of it is mid life crisis or search for meaning, and part of this is due to a book I've recently read (go figure).

Entitled "Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America", it traces the history of my 'people' (Colemans are Scots-Irish, Strawns are Scottish). It talks about how this group of poor, family centered, Europeans were formed by opposition to the Romans, the Normans, and the English; how they were used by the English monarchy and later the American colonial elite as a barrier and shield for political power. The author points to this group as being foundational to the populist movement of Andrew Jackson that ultimately established and reinforced one of the things that I am most frustrated about in American Culture- the ethos of rugged individualism.

It also goes on to discuss the pre and post Civil war realities for these people; that few, if any, owned slaves (in fact were negatively impacted by the plantation system), that they fought on both sides of the war for reasons centering around autonomy and freedom, and that they suffered most drastically from the reconstruction policies that took what little they had from them. This latter section also talked about how much of the racism that exists in these people's lives today comes from once again being used by persons in power to serve as a buffer between the southern elite and the newly freed African Americans, when the reality is that both SI and AA had a shared socio-economic experience in the post Civil War south and midwest.

Again, not everything in this book resonates with me; the author's family comes from Arkansas and Oklahoma, while our families are rooted in the border states of Indiana, West Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky. But, given where I am in life, it was a timely read, and I would strongly recommend it.

Back to "Making Sense of It All"... remember when I wrote

I'm looking forward to hearing the sound of rushing water that also has served as a soundtrack for my life. That's one of the distinctives that I remember about our visits to WVa.- even on the drive up, you can't help but notice all of the waterfalls (important things for a kid from the flatlands of the MidWest). Given that the Appalachian mountains are some of the oldest in the world, and that the New River may be older than the Nile, there is a sense of permanence and depth. The water is there, has been there, will be there; pouring, splashing, nourishing, carving, shaping everything in the state. And, in some way, it has nourished and shaped me as well.

Well, I've been haunted by two photos lately.
The first is from my favorite place along Wolf Creek, and was taken during one of my Spring Break trips in college. Those of you that know me know that I keep this in my office for "serenity now" moments- it reminds me of a very peaceful afternoon in my life.
The second is a close up taken from the same spot, but last month. As you can see the water has been stopped by boulders and logs that have fallen in place due to flooding in the past 15 years or so.
But the reality is that the water has not been stopped, that it has merely found another way to the New River downstream. And that's where I find myself- my path has changed, has been blocked in some ways, and who I am and what I'm called to be flows on.

The questions, then, are as much about 'where is this going?' as 'where did this come from?'. And, as I get ready to be in a position where I will be raising up a new generation of Strawns, these questions become more and more important.

So, I'm going to continue to collect my thoughts, post stories about my grandfather, and write about my family. Since this will be a divergence from the usual ramblings about Higher Ed, Faith and Culture, Sports, and stupidity, I'll be sure to label each of these writings as a part of the "Heritage Series", so you can skip them if you so desire.

Thanks for reading...