The first step—that’s what it
takes. If you are planning to go see a
friend or trek around the world, it all begins with that all-important first
step.
The same goes
for starting a new tradition. The
Saturday after Thanksgiving, our family launched a new tradition. The credit goes to Alan, who lifted a small,
potted live oak from the back of his truck and said, “Let’s plant this.”
On the way to
retrieve a shovel, I heard the raucous voices of two just-turned-10-year-old
boys, as they chased each other around the barn. “That’s it,” I said to myself. Making those playful noises were William
NeSmith and his cousin Henry Wilson.
“Alan,” I said,
“let’s plant this tree in celebration of William and Henry’s 10th
birthdays, along with their Grandpa William Henry’s upcoming 70th
birthday.” And just like that—as the
boys were shoving dirt into the hole—we were planning to continue the live-oak-tree-planting
tradition every Thanksgiving.
I’ve always
admired the words of Nelson Henderson, who said, “The true meaning of life is to plant
trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.” Live oaks are a trademark of our sandy
Coastal Plain. They are also slow-growing,
but I’m not in a hurry. I don’t care if
I never get to sit under the shade of these infant trees. What’s more important is that I don’t rush
and miss the joys of watching eight grandchildren blow out their birthday
candles year after year.
Unless I look
in the mirror while I’m shaving and I notice my gray hair or wrinkles, I don’t think
about being 70. Well, there’s one more
time. When I go to Piggly Wiggly, the
cashier tells me that I’m getting the “young-man” discount. I guess my possum-blond hair gives me away,
but I am grateful for the friendly service and
the savings.
Still, I keep
repeating what the late major-league hurler and philosopher Satchel Paige
(1906-1982) once declared: “How old would
you be if you didn’t know how old you was?”
If age 60 is proclaimed to be the new 40, then 70 must be the new
50. Yep, Satchel, I feel about 50. That is, unless I’m swinging an ax, splitting
firewood.
Almost
everything in life is relative to something else. The same goes with age. That’s why I keep in mind the ancient words
of Sir Francis Bacon: “I will never be an
old man. To me, old age is always 15
years older than I am.”
Hmmmm, that’s
about right.
When I’m 85,
old age will be about 100.
Alan’s younger
brother, Eric, reminded me that in 15 years live oaks should be dropping
acorns.
So if I get to
blow out 100 candles, I just might
get to sit under the shade of a few of those 30 live oak trees.
Thank you,
Alan.
You inspired our
family to take that all-important first step in a new tradition.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
