When Evening Comes
Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., the Great Dissenter for free speech and individual liberties, served on the United States Supreme Court for 30 years. When he retired at age 90, he gave a short radio talk to the nation in which he said, in reference to retirement, that when a race horse reaches the finish line, it doesn't stop suddenly but continues on in a little finishing canter before coming to a standstill. Along with some of you, I am now in that retirement period of life. My last race has been run, the burst of speed and energy is over and I am no longer competing with anyone. I am relaxed and smiling (most of the time) and just trying to do a graceful little diminishing canter to my final standstill.
Meanwhile, I am still alive. Life goes on with its continual changes, its ups and downs, its responsibilities and concerns, its irritations and its joys and satisfactions. Today I feel fortunate. I am surrounded by a loving family and friends, I am still able to function and contribute, I am not in pain and I am not financially destitute. I don’t fear death because I believe in a loving and. accepting God. That’s a lot to be thankful for. But any person my age, looking at his peer group, has a concern about the possibility of a long, painful, financially crushing terminal illness. Each day, however, as the Bible tells us, is a gift to be enjoyed, and we should never suffer in anticipation of trouble which may not materialize. I remain positive and full of hope that whatever happens in this valedictory of life for me and my partner, our final days will be satisfying, calm, and full of courage and grace. This is what it means to be old, but still hanging in there with optimism.
There is an old Chinese blessing, "May you live in interesting times." When I lie awake in the dark of night and recall all the great events of my lifetime since the 1920's, I know I have lived and participated in interesting times. When I reminisce about all the people I have known and loved, those who are now only memories in mind and heart and those who still surround me, I am grateful for God’s blessing on my life.
Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." I agree and periodically along the way I have asked myself some questions. Who am I? What's my role in this world? What kind of person do I want to be? Am I making any progress toward that goal? Am I learning anything from my mistakes? Is anyone any better off because I’m here? Am I fulfilling with love my responsibilities to my wife and my kids, my first priority? What do those who really know me think of me? What am I contributing to my friends, my church, my community, my country? Am I in the right job? Is what I am doing now what I want to be doing? Is where I am now where I want to be? Am I taking care of my personal needs? Am I happy and enjoying Life? These are some of the questions I have asked myself from time to time.
When we are young we all have our dreams and aspirations, but of course, no certainty at all about what our life will actually become. In old age we know how our story has unfolded. Not all our dreams came true, but some did, and other blessings materialized that we did not anticipate. Sometimes life seems to be only a gamble where, unfairly, bad things often happen to good people and someone else wins the lottery. Sometimes the road of life is full of potholes, but at other times, it's a cakewalk. Soren Kierkegaard said, "We live life forward but understand it backward." With more years of experience we can better see the whole picture in perspective and balance, and our priorities mature. We understand the wisdom of appreciating the simple everyday pleasures and seeing, as Abraham Maslow did, the "sacred in the ordinary" in our daily life. On late night TV recently David Letterman asked Warren Zevon if his terminal cancer had taught him any wisdom. Zevon's answer was, "Enjoy every sandwich."
This year, especially, several milestones have motivated me to think of my journey. Another birthday anniversary brings me a little closer to age 80. It is now 60 years since I graduated from high school in the midst of World War II, and also 60 years since my first date with a beautiful young girl with a sparkling personality who fascinated me. Doris and I went to the movies to see Bing Crosby in "Going My Way", a prophetic title as we began our lifetime journey together. (Incidentally, it was an excellent movie, winning the Academy best movie award for 1944...and we did watch the movie.) This summer I returned to Paris where I was stationed in the US Army as an 18 year old and thought again of my youth in the City of Light. Then I walked the invasion beach at Normandy and thought of my brother Harlan’s struggle to live after being wounded there on D-Day. On the hilltop above Omaha Beach I visited the American Cemetery where are buried 9,387 young Americans who died for us in France and never came home to their loved ones. I placed flowers on the grave of a young man, PFC Chester Edmondson from Tennessee, just a bit older than I at the time, who was' killed on my birthday anniversary, June 9, 1944. On that day, his short life ended, and I have lived on, by the grace and gift of God, a full and happy life for 60 more years. When I knelt to place the flowers before his cross, I said a prayer of thanks to Chester Edmondson for his supreme sacrifice for all of us, and I thought of the terrible grief of his family and friends in their loss. In that solemn moment, surrounded by thousands of white grave markers in rows of reverent serenity on the green grass, I grieved for all the lives destroyed by senseless wars through the years.
"Will you remember me when I'm gone?" That’s the question my dear mother-in-law, who lived more than a century, frequently asked our granddaughters. She loved to have these three little girls come to visit her and laugh and say funny things, try on her jewelry and jump on her empty bed. Then as our visit ended, she would often ask them, "will you remember me when I'm gone?" Every time I heard that plea, I knew it came from deep in her heart and that it was an innate, primal, universal plea from every human heart. We all want to be remembered with affection and love, and we remember Grandma Hildur that way.
"What was the best time of your life?" That’s the question I asked my father-in-law" one summer day a long time ago as the two of us sat in his backyard drinking lemonade. He thought for quite awhile before answering, and then his reply surprised me. Here was a man who came from Sweden alone as a teenager, learned the English language, finished high school and went on to college and graduate work at UCLA, became a minister, national president of his denomination and a beloved college professor. After thinking about the question, he said to me, "The best time of my life was when our three daughters were small." Now you parents coping with the daily vicissitudes of raising small children may find it hard to believe this might be the best time of your life. (One definition of happiness is when the last kid goes away to college and the dog finally dies.) But for my father-in-law, thinking back over the years, that was the happiest period of his life. He was thinking of the joy of holding in his arms a newborn child; the pleasure of guiding children to grow into strong, responsible, happy adults; the fun of seeing the world anew through the eyes of a child; the deep bonding between father, mother and children; the lifetime satisfaction in the sacrifices of parenting. He was re-living true family values. To me, that said something complimentary about my father-in-law’s maturity and wisdom, his values and priorities. What was the best time of your life? Maybe it’s now, today. Maybe these are the good old days you will look back on.
Sophocles, the Greek dramatist and philosopher, who lived a long, productive and interesting life to age 89, expressed a beautiful sentiment near the end when he said, "One must wait until the evening to know how splendid the day has been." Not all our days are splendid, of course. One consolation of age is that now we understand that love is all, and that "we never lose what we truly love because it becomes a part of us." We know that no one can ever take from us the nostalgic memories of the golden days of our life. For each of you, my fellow pilgrims on this journey, my prayer is that when the evening comes for you, you will be able to look back on your life and know in your heart that God has been kind to you, that your life has been worthwhile, that someone loves you as you love them, and that you will be wise enough to recognize and cherish all the splendid days of your life.