I believe it is a commonly understood truism that each generation is indebted to the one before it. After all that is only common sense. The previous generation changed our diapers, made our dinner, nursed our owies, and (however imperfectly) taught us about Jesus. And for several in my family, they keep on doing it.
It seems that 75 is the new 60. That's my conclusion after today. On Sunday we decided with Alice and Roy (my aunt and uncle -- see last post) that I would come up on Tuesday to make wood for the winter (if Jay and Emily can't get the house sold it will be a good plan for us to have some wood on hand...). I already have a decent woodpile going, but not enough to heat our home for a typical Minnesota winter.
So Evan and I left around 9:00 this morning, bearing chainsaw, trailer with spiffy new wood sides, and the remains of a conflict he and I had created just prior to leaving. We spent the drive to Goodhue figuring out our conflict, which was pretty well resolved by the time we pulled into their driveway.
Now I thought we were going to say "good morning", chat for a minute, and then Evan and I would go back to where the dead trees were standing and log them out ourselves. Not at all. Roy, 78, offered me his "battle plan" a little after we arrived. He would fire up the tractor and after I would fell a tree, we would hook a chain around it and drag it over to the brush pile. Then I would limb the small branches, allowing Evan and Auntie Alice to pitch those straight onto the brush pile.
Well, that's pretty much what we did. I never anticipated that two septagenarians would put in basically a full day's work cutting and hauling wood. To be fair, let me say that Roy spent most of his time on the seat of the tractor, but he still did a great job with the tractor and got down a few times to toss something into the loader or work with the tow chain.
One of the highlights for Evan was getting to ride the front-end loader way up in the air in order to hook a chain around a dead branch still hanging on the tree. Roy hoisted him way up there and then shut off the bucket 10 or 12 feet above the ground. Of course, Evan being Evan loved the experience and successfully got the chain wrapped around the log.
Roy and Alice mentioned that they use the front-end loader to pick apples. Alice gets in the bucket and Roy raises it up the side of the tree and then waits while she gathers all apples within reach. I looked at them in disbelief, but they both agreed that that's how they did it last year. She would have been 74 at the time.
A sweet moment for me was watching them drive together down the grassy lane between two valleys of scrubby trees. Alice was standing on the running board of the tractor, and Roy was driving. Shafts of sunlight illuminated their silvery hair as they rode away from us. It gave me a glimpse of how they've worked together for the last 55 years, the rewards of a life well-lived.
We left with a full trailer of wood and arrived home to find that Grandpa, Alice's big brother, had been out to our farm today and fixed the mowing deck on one of my tractors and figured out what was wrong with a spring on the other.
The 75-and-over crowd did it again. They never cease to amaze me, and I will miss them "somethin' fierce" when Jesus finally calls them home.
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Two comments from me, Jim--We just helped on a Habitat-type building project in Eastern Kentucky. Two of the best workers on the trip were a man from our church, 88 years old, and a woman from Louisville, KY, 81, who led the dry-wall team in hanging dry wall. Unbelievable! Now let's see if I can remember the second one--oh, yes. I agree so completely with you about missing the 75-and-over crowd--that's so true. Thanks for writing such good stuff!
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