Dear family and friends
Today was a relaxed travel day. We slept in for the first time in days, although it was still early for Grayson who normally gets up at 9:30.
We departed the hotel at 11:30 and took a leisurely cruise out of Walla Walla (“leisurely” means that we stopped for a Starbucks on our way out of town!) We took one last walk down memory lane on our way to I-84. Instead of heading straight down SR 11 from Walla Walla to Pendleton, we took the drive down the old state highway now known as Winn Road – named after my mother’s family that settled there well over 100 years ago.
We pulled into the old homestead and walked around one last time – taking in the beautiful spring sights that I had never before seen. You see, all of my visits to the family farm had been either in the winter or the late summer. That means that the wheat (the dominant crop of the area) had either not yet germinated or was golden and ready to harvest. This was the first time that I had seen the luscious green wheat in the field – miles and miles of green carpet that will become bread, pastry, pasta and a multitude of other products that we depend on. We city-dwellers often forget them, but we need our farmers. I’m proud to say that my parents were a product of that honorable profession.
Mom and Dad allowed me to spend some special summer weeks while growing up with Uncle Bob, Aunt Imogene and their family. I had a small sampling of farm life during those precious times. We moved irrigation pipe, weeded, rode on the combines during harvest, hauled grain to the elevator – all chores that needed to be done and that we willingly did. There was also great fun, pranks, and play. The connections that resulted bonded us together forever – my cousins are the siblings I never had. Bob and Imogene hold a special place in my heart. And this is why we were there for their special weekend honoring their 65 years of marriage.
It took us a long time to leave the farm. We then headed down the road for one last look at Weston. Weston is the town where my mother’s other brother, Peyton, settled with his lovely bride Jessie after leaving the farm. This is where my other 5 cousins grew up and where I would spend time with them. We drove even slower than the 20 MPH speed limit as we passed through town. We never know if we will pass this way again. We savored the moment.
An old Scouter told me once that our job as parents was to give our children roots and wings. Most of the offspring of the three siblings that grew up on the farm – Peyton, Ellen and Bob – have moved away and have lives and careers elsewhere. However, the roots remain and they bind us all together. And from time to time we will return to the homestead to celebrate that tradition and bask in the love, freedom and faith that we have been given.
Pax!
Brant
