Letter: Another trip home
To the Editor:
As Connie and I wound our way north of El Dorado this past Saturday morning, I found myself stretching my eyes to catch a glimpse of the Burns water tower. It took me back to those many trips my folks and I shared in those days before, as we returned home to Marion. The hopeful sign was always the Burns water tower.
My impatience to get home just seemed easier to survive in those days by seeing that tower.
The winding trail which is U.S.-77 is getting a needed face lift as more construction cuts into the pastures alongside, a wider trail to handle bigger trucks, heavier traffic loads of this modern era, travelers bent on getting there faster, hopefully safer.
It struck me as I drove, how slowly the rolling stretches of grass and cropland change along this old road, if that change comes naturally. The only marks, cuts, and gashes which one can note are human made.
It takes a long time, sometimes centuries for a gully to form in those same pastures. It takes no more than months for human machines to cut a place for a concrete culvert, to roll the prairie sod on its back and build a road on the roots.
The speed of change in this time, in this land, may be the reason we flock back to Marion for Old Settlers' Day? To catch a glimpse of that water tower we all have in our memory which reminds us to stay grounded in those things which matter most?
Old Settlers' Day was a good weekend for us. We saw family which is always good. We just sat in the park, ate sloppy joes, and talked. No agenda, no hurry.
Brother Warren Hayen made it for his reunion which was good. He's not so good. He has "checked it in" as far as living life to the fullest. Warren has always lived life large. So this change is hard to handle for him, his children, all of us who care about him.
Up against what 'ol Warren showed me, I visited my cousin Tim Williams. Tim has had more than his share of the down side of life in these past years. In spite of it all Tim was so alive! Our visit not only was great for us both, but for me, it was a kind of awakening.
Tim's attitude was like the Burns water tower you could say: You hang onto life, hope for what lies ahead, and as it comes into view, rejoice! Tim and I rejoiced!
I saw so many old settlers from a distance: the 'Ol Editor of this good newspaper, though the body appeared to be a bit decrepit it is clear the fire still burns in his pen; Loyette Hollar Swanson, my music teacher in those grade school years, still as beautiful as when all of us sixth grade boys were in love with her; her husband Kenneth, my band teacher, who taught me much about music. Bud Hannaford, Bud Kelsey, my old coach, Howard Collett, came up and said hi.
I saw Tom Good, one of my best friends in the early years. We spent some time with our family matriarch, Dorothy Hayen, 97 and still going! It was appropriate we ended our visit in the home of cousin Bessie Bass. That good woman showed Connie and me you don't have to grow old sitting in your chair!
By the way, speaking of chairs, we left our folding chairs and the cases in the park, by the fountain. If found, let us know. They were a gift from our kids. If not returned, I hope whoever found them enjoys them.
It was a good weekend in the Old Town. I don't know when or if this note will make it into the paper. It may not be eligible for print for another month. It'll be old news by then. Regardless, I needed to write this for my own sake.
Thanks, and
Jan Hayen
Parsons
