Farewell Summer

In memory of summer
Be sure to bring some flowers
For the next time we meet
I might have added a year
In experience
And you a couple of seasons

Sunday Morning

Ducks in a row as the latecomers take their seats in the front row, under the watchful eyes of Bennie the preacher, a genius narrating and improvising as the hour goes by.

INTRODUCTION
Dear Congregation
Today we’re going to look at changes – and our resistance thereof.

TEENAGER
It’ll be a nice change if I get to sleep in on a Sunday morning…

PATERNAL VOICE
Hush – it’s the church. [Why do we silence children for the better of ten years and thereafter expect them to speak their faith out loud?]

BENNIE
The story: One day a Baptist comes to visit the Dutch Reformed Church and finds his way to the front. Used to the Baptist way of doing things, the preacher says something appraisable, he raises his arms and calls out loud: “Praise the Lord.” To great discomfort of the churchgoers it becomes a race between the preacher trying to stay focused on his text and the Baptist doing his thing. David the elder and known as the preacher’s advisor and confidant feels compelled to take action. Brother Baptist is ready to raise his arms when David, waiting for the moment, grabs him from the back and says: “In this church we don’t ‘Praise the Lord’.’”

[Laughter]

Bennie proceeds, keeping in mind that the choir resists using the talented guitar player during the upcoming Thanksgiving.

BRINGING IT HOME
He now points at the fatigued teenager boy in the front. “Say!” says Bennie “ Your Dad has a donkey car and it’s your daily duty to take care of the donkey and see that the wheels of the car are pumped before the parents leave for the market, selling corn and other fresh farm products.

Now, close to your sixteenth birthday, you find the barn locked and the donkey car and donkey outside. You try to get into the barn, but without any luck.

Then the day of your birthday finally comes and Dad gives you the keys and off you go to unlock the barn. You expect a brand new donkey car and if you’re really lucky a donkey to replace the obstinate mule.

You unlock the shed. You can’t believe your eyes. It’s a red one. Shiny red Z4 BMW out of the box.

Bennie looks at the totally astonished teenager’s face. A moment –
THEN

The sister next to him must have forgotten all about silence in the church. She jumps from the uncomfortable pew, throws her arms into the air and responds: “Praise the Lord.” The youngest of the three is taken by the moment. He jumps onto his feet and claims the backseat of the BMW. “I’m coming with.”

And so do the rest of the young ones.

AMEN
Says Bennie and makes for the exit, leaving the ready-for-change followers and David, the elder behind.

GPS

“The GPS is a bit pricy, but such a fantastic help for directional challenged,” says the girl with the piercings in the ears, nose, lips and who knows what else. The thought of getting to the desired destination without the trouble of pulling over and buying coffee to ask the way, justifies the price.

Armored with the little screen in my window and Lee’s American-English-voice, I hit the road. It’s not a good time, I might add, where construction workers frantically try to beat the snowfall of the coming winter. Lee recalculates the moment I skip the turn onto the restricted road, but much to my surprise Lee takes me around the block and after ten minutes of driving, ending up at the same NO ENTRY sign. Lee yells at me and I yell back, later turning Lee off and once again buying coffee to ask for directions at the nearby gas station.

Not willing to call it a day, I pull over and turn the GPS on, only this time I change the voice to that of a woman. She might be more sympathetic, less recalculating, but Suzy is even more persistent. “In 800 meters turn right” she says. I can’t. I feel bad for her having to recalculate every time. She must think I’m a total idiot or getting the impression that I don't care to listen.

“Mom” says my daughter two weeks later. “You take this way too personal. You can use the DETOUR-option you know?” She takes the GPS and scrolls down the tool-button. “Let’s try another language,” she says. “Ry veertig kilometers en draai regs op die Guelph lyn” says Jan in Boer-Afrikaans. I laugh. “You’re kidding me.” Jan gets displeasured, but continues to give directions as if he sits next to me.

When I see the girl with the piercings again I’ll thank her for giving me direction. However, it will be of interest to know if she has a GPS with the option of choosing between a pleasant voice and a demanding one.  

MEANDER -- FOR JC

An empty nester, according to the Mac dictionary, is “a parent whose children have grown up and left home.” It sounds so straightforward that can one can hardly imagine the complicatedness thereof.  Or is it that simple?

The youngest is first to leave the house. Plays the violin and sings in the men choir; does yoga, his paintings and photos hanging in diverse locations, special treats comes from the waitress at the Sushi bar and he spends his vacations in Vermont and Mexico. On top of all this he's a student at Western and decides to join the Naval Reserves.

The not so easy part is to come to terms with the Naval Reserves. Does the child need some kind of challenge? Has life in a First World country become tedious, compared to always-eventful Third World where ducking the bullet is part of your day?

Does a parent have grounds to interfere in the twists and turns of a child’s choices when s/he seemingly has it planned out?  Is it about the parent or the child? The parents cashed in their pensions and retirement plans to purchase flight tickets for the family, restarted their careers at the bottom and often at minimum wages, gave up the close circle of friends and family to ensure the children’s safe and unhindered maturing. Is it then regardless the outcome?

After doing extremely well in his basic training in Victoria, he decides to join the Regular Force.  To come at peace with the possibility of a child going to Afghanistan is almost unbearable.

He spends seventeen weeks in Quebec, catches up with the French language and gets promoted to a Logistic Officer. How can a parent not be proud?

The youngest child is soft-spoken and kind. He’s an artist and musician. He still comes to visit, but he’s climbing the steps in a country he refers to as his home. He looks stunning in uniform amongst the appreciable, exceptional circle of friends. The youngest child landed a family, near and dear, where he can anchor and explore.

He’s a trooper, besides he’s the one who spread his wings long before the other two even considered to leaving the nest so empty.