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Turn the Page

There are so few people that I know today who actually knew my son Jacob. Some  people ask about him and I’m happy to tell them Jake stories, but what I really long for is to hear stories about him. Especially stories that I’d never heard before.  I wish I could have a mulligan, you know like in golf, a do over.  You go  back to where you were, without penalty and try again.  I sure would do things differently.

There are only three teachers left at Jake’s old Junior High that remember him. Soon there will be no one.  When they present the annual Jacob Kiepura Memorial Award it will almost certainly have lost some of it’s significance.

Today I drove through the little town where I grew up. It was so different. The fields where I played and built forts are gone. The chicken coups and out houses are things of the past. The baseball diamond in “Gill Ville” is now occupied by houses instead of young boys dreaming of the Big Leagues. The Village Store, where we exchanged the pop bottles scavenged out of road side ditches has long been closed. Many of the homes along Interstate 80, including mine, have been torn down as a result of toll road expansion.

As I drove through and observed the changed image of my childhood town, I was reminded of the people who lived there. I remembered the crabby old men who scared us  as kids and the sweet old ladies who always made us feel like we were part of some big extended family.   I almost reluctantly became conscious of the fact that most of those people are now dead and gone. This was my grandfather’s town, my mother’s town, my town. Today most people living there probably have no idea of what took place on that hallowed ground. It no longer seems so special.

It seems that you can only hold onto memories for so long. At some point, whether you like it or not, the page gets turned. The only thing constant in our lives is God, the same yesterday and today—and forever.

Sometimes I forget that.


3 thoughts on “Turn the Page

  1. Change is the only thing permanent in life, they say but as you say only God remains yesterday, today and for ever.
    Praise God.
    My grandparent’s house used to be my fortress as a child, a safe haven. They have both left us over the past 5 years, I go there no more- my uncle and aunt live there but though the house is still there and same property is with them, every thing is modernised now-cars and modern amenities, people and neighbours have all changed, new faces- no more old faces or old-timers, all passed beyond. It reminds me of my own frailty and that one day, soon, I will go to be with them- I just hope I give enough memories to my children, so they remember me for some time at least- how egoistic is that !

    Liked by 1 person

    • I purposely try to create memories for my granddaughters by making our time together both regular and meaningful. I do this in part because I know the benefit I received through my memories of childhood, but even more I want them to remember that the man they loved, loved God. I want them to seek God long after I’m gone.

      Liked by 1 person

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