I heard kinship today. It came not so subtly cloaked in the rip and snarl of chainsaws, the deep rumble of the diesel tractor, and hum and hiss of the hydraulic log splitter. What made this cacophony of farm work day noises sound like kinship was that, today, they signified that my youngest son Tim was here working next to me.Tim and I have had our difficulties over the years (as have many fathers and sons), but have been more in contact the past six months or so. It's not that he lives a far away geographically -- like his brother Ben who lives with his family in Japan -- but that our lives and lifestyles have been very much different. That is not a judgement statement, just a statement of fact. That made spending almost a whole day together working on the farm very special for me.
I was delighted when Tim called recently. He wanted to know if I'd like to grab some lunch, which I would have liked to have done except I was in Washington, DC when he called. Then he said maybe he could come out and help with some farm work, if I'd like him to. So this morning he drove out from Indianapolis and, side by side, with noisy chainsaws and tractor, we cut firewood, cleared out brush honeysuckle, and split a little wood. We also enjoyed a nice lunch and watched a little basketball.
It was a good day.
As he drove off, I was reminded of a Kenny Rankin song that I just heard yesterday. It's titled "Peaceful" and has the lines
I had a son while on the run/ And his love brought a tear to my eye/ And maybe some day he might say/ That I’m a pretty nice guy
That would be my wish. That Tim might say that about me and do so while remember the good times like today, chainsaw noise and all.
And I say, easily, "He's a pretty nice guy." Indeed.
-- Brent
PS The picture above is from Tim's facebook site... I guess the silly apple does not fall far from the tree. Oh no!
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