The Importance of Trust

Hmm…are we closer? Am I, these two years later?

In the stillness...

The Importance of Trust

March 25, 2012

If you had a brother or sister growing up, you knew just about everything that went on in their life; and, depending on your relationship with them, I’m pretty sure you sympathized, or maybe even secretly rejoiced at times, when trouble came their way.

My brother Ronnie and I had different parents, but there never was a day that I felt he was anything less than my real brother, in every positive sense of the word.

The reasons were simple. We always ‘had each other’s back’—when things were good and when they were bad. When my brother talked to me, I listened; and when I talked to him, he listened. We understood each other, but the primary bond between us was an unshakeable loyalty built on the solid foundation of trust. He is gone now, but the lessons I learned in our relationship…

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I’ll take this day…

I can see blue sky beyond the haze that gently kisses earth to leave welcome dew in its silent wake. Gray looms on the horizon where lakers watch for clouds to clear. I remember when I once watched and wondered, but now I leave it there in the past where it belongs. I am here in this place now, this time, when days pass slowly and what I want to do is often left undone. I look out at someone else’s horses in my pasture and turn away from dreams of long ago. I wait in the silence and hear the child laughter of decades removed and smile in tearful thanksgiving of yesterday’s joys and tomorrow’s soon to come.

The Annual Memorial Day Drive-By

Across my shaggy lawn replete with an army of dandelion stems standing at strict attention, I watched the event unfold at 7 o’clock this morning. I’m referring to the annual Memorial Day Drive-By of my only living uncle, who snags one of his kids every year to chauffeur him the 10 miles north of his lake cottage on Tippy so he can get a good look-see at ‘Sara’s place’ just outside of Syracuse.

As in past years, an unrecognizable car drives by my property very slowly and predictably turns around in my neighbor’s drive two doors down so they can coast by this time at about 3 mph for Look #2. And just as in past years, the action is repeated at my neighbor’s lane to the south, and I see my uncle’s recognizable face plastered to the window of the small black car during Drive-By #3. I wait patiently here on the couch for the minute or less it takes them to turn around again for what turns out to be his final look-see.

I admit I feel sorry for whatever co-conspirator he forces to enable him to satiate his curiosity so he can pass judgment on whether or not the place is being ‘kept up’; but, really, his trip is at least partially pointless nowadays, since Mother, who looked forward to his reports each year, passed away nearly six years ago at 102. Maybe he thinks he will be able to give an accounting to her on the state of the property she purchased and put in trust for my children when he joins her in the Great Beyond someday, but surely he will have better things on his mind then.

I pause to remember that my uncle is almost 89, still actively farming and calling the shots of his and his grandson’s successful seed corn business. Furthermore, last Thanksgiving when I dropped by his home place, it was surprisingly apparent that he had mellowed way more than I ever thought was possible.

“Give him a good day with his kids and grandkids,” I say to the only One whose opinion about my life matters. “And next year, would it be too much to ask to prompt him to call me beforehand and say he wants to drop by for a visit? I’ll make sure the lawn is freshly mowed and the coffee on.”