A New Beginning

When five small fingers grasp on big thumb
The cares of the world are overcome …

Well, a week ago on June 18th the most amazing thing happened. I became a grandfather. Yes, it’s true. Our family is both overjoyed and proud to welcome its newest member: Aubree May Carpenter. For anyone who relishes baby statistics, she was 7 pounds, 5 ounces, 21 inches long and had an Apgar score of 9 … oh, and she’s absolutely perfect. Am I bragging already? I don’t generally fill these pages with much personal news, but this event is naturally of the greatest consequence to my little tribe. Sure, babies are born every day, but this one is ours and, quite frankly, it changes everything. It’s not so much that I’m old enough to be a grandfather and very soon small people will begin calling my pops. Nor is it, from the strictly scientific standpoint, that I have successfully passed on my genetic material to another generation. My response is more like the response of Adam in Genesis 2. After God creates Eve from Adam’s rib, Adams responds with, “this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh!” Little Aubree has a bit of us in her and, in every sense of the word, she has become our legacy.

She will also be the recipient of our legacy, whatever that may be. She has become the manifestation of the hope that our wisdom and values and faith may be passed on and find some meaning beyond us. Let’s face it, if all she were to receive as a legacy is my looks and my money she would find herself sadly shortchanged in life. Fortunately, a man’s true legacy is that of heart and of spirit. So I hope and pray that she may find them of value, for my life will have altogether more meaning if it turns out to have been meaningful to her. That is what legacy is all about. These very words have altogether more meaning because of her. And so do I.

Little Aubree May Carpenter, we welcome you to the world and thank you for the joy that you have brought into our lives already! I close today with a wish and a prayer for the newest member of our family, and one which perhaps all of us grownups may be wise to take to heart as well.

A Child’s Eyes
May you never grow too wise
To see things through a child’s eyes
May you always seek the truth
With the innocence of youth
May you learn to love each man
As freely as a child can
May you daily kneel and pray
And with a child’s heart … obey.
By Pops

The Romance of the Century

I was waiting in line at the grocery store this afternoon. Like most people, I filled that idle time looking over the photos and the headlines on the covers of the various magazines displayed there. Usually I find nothing of interest in the intellectual wasteland of those magazines, but one in particular cover caught my eye today. The new issue of Vanity Fair had a classic photograph of Elizabeth Taylor in her prime with the bold face headline, “Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, the Romance of the Century.” It all sounds very glamorous and I’m certain that a lot of folks would concur. However, especially today, I must take issue therewith. I’ve grown weary of Hollywood romance. I’m tired of all the hype, the glitz, the frenzy of interest and speculation, and often the character of those in the limelight who rarely live up to the images they project. Celebrity romance promises so much and generally delivers very little. It’s a case of people no better than you or I making below average choices in public, flitting in and out of rehab, and practically getting worshiped for it. And if they adopt a child from Africa once in a while they achieve near sainthood. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids from Africa. However, these celebrity couples are rarely more worthy of being our role models than anyone else.

Now let’s return to Liz and Richard and the supposed romance of the century. Seriously? Elizabeth Taylor was married eight times to seven different men. She was married to Richard two different times, which hardly qualifies them for that title. After all, they failed twice. I’m sorry, but Liz wouldn’t know the romance of the century if it hit her on the head. They might have shared the infatuation of the century or the divorce (s) of the century, or the public affair of the century, but the title of romance of the century certainly must belong to someone who didn’t fail at it eight times.

I suppose it boils down to a world view and our definition of love. The problem is that Hollywood’s other great contribution to society is that it has completely corrupted the meaning of the word love. We’ve been programmed to believe that love, true love, is tumultuous and tragic, that it comes and goes like flu season, and the whole story can be told in two hours. (at $10 a ticket) I cannot, I will not, believe that. True love isn’t a fickle feeling that we can fall in and out of over and over again. Genuine love is a way of life that cherishes and honors another person and builds over the course of years. If you’re really looking for the romance of the century, then start crashing fiftieth anniversary parties. That’s where you’ll find it. That’s where you’ll discover the actual experts on love. Those are the people who took their wedding vows to heart and proved out their love for better or for worse.

I’ve been married for nearly twenty-nine years to just about the most wonderful person in the world. And you know what? Our love and our life just keep getting better and I thank God for them every day. Now, I don’t think we deserve the romance of the century title because it belongs to a lot of amazing couples who have been together for twice as long as us. However, I can honestly say that during the two centuries we have had the pleasure of being a part of, I’ve felt we like were at least contenders in each one. You can’t really ask for more than that.

Today, I dedicate this poem to all those folks who have lived and loved together for a lifetime. You are the definition of the word love and the personification of romance. Liz and Richard, for all their glamour and their undeserved title from Vanity Fair, will never hold a candle to you.

Till Death Do Us Part
We seem to have forgotten
How much wedding vows mean today
So when life grows too difficult
Folks just seem to walk away
They forget about their promise
To stand through sickness and health
To stay when things were better or worse
Through poverty and through wealth
We cast aside the promises
We made back at the start
To the ultimate commitment
When we vowed, ATill death do us part@
A vow devoid of options
Which, in this world of lies
Stands as the measure of commitment
Unmarred by compromise
Those vows don=t mention happiness
Nor compatibility
Clearly, because they become subjective
When folks begin to disagree
In the end, there is no greater tribute
To what marriage is all about
Than those who stay Atill death do us part@
Who live those wedding vows out
So when your commitment is waning
And you feel love slipping away
Remember the vow you made before God
And your loved ones that long ago day
Find a way to rekindle the fires
Which once burned so bright in your heart
And stand by your promise, whatever the cost
Until death do us part
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Optimistic Spider

On the lighter side, for a change, I would like to share the poem below, which is based upon a weekly ritual that actually occurs regularly in the side yard behind our garage. While this is mostly a humorous story, it also highlights some important virtues. My spider has obviously been enhanced through the literary tool of personification. Still, I never cease to be amazed by her optimism and persistence. It is possible, of course, that she’s merely trying to earn a humble living capturing flies, and that I’m some kind of giant arachnid home wrecker who consistently destroys her handiwork while jeopardizing her livelihood. Anyway, she labors on in spite of the havoc I wreak. Call it instinct, or nature, creation, or even plain old undaunted tenacity. Either way, she never gives up and her efforts are truly commendable. It may just be me, but since I’ve been such a nuisance to her I’d like give her as much credit as possible for her valiant efforts. Just a spider? Maybe. But let her serve as a reminder to all of us to dream big, work hard, and never give up.

The Optimistic Spider
Down the side yard of our house
Where humans rarely stray
There lives an optimistic spider
Who labors every day
Cunningly, she spins her web
From the bushes to the wall
And bides her time ‘till Wednesday night
When she knows that I shall call
For that is when the trash cans
Must be carried out again
And like a hunter on a game trail
She lays in wait for men
Then, in the dark of Wednesday
As I hurry through my chore
I plunge headlong through her web
Just like a hundred times before
Of course, I’ve forgotten once again
That she’ll be waiting there
And I mutter exclamations
Pulling web from face and hair
Yet, it’s a minor inconvenience
Even when I am surprised
And I continue with my mission
As she again laments her prize
But by Thursday she is back at work
Regardless of my flight
Undaunted and preparing
For the trash next Wednesday night
And I have to hand it to her
For her stalwart tenacity
Because her faith and commitment
Are a testament to me
And while to us she’s just a spider
She see’s it quite a different way
For I’m her nemesis, her King Kong
And the one who got away
By Frank Carpenter ©