Quartet of
Love
~ Cold
and Lonely Nights no More
It
began like any other great love story, but this was no ordinary love. Boy meets
girl. In its innocence, I believe we all have a desire to feel a connection to
that first someone special and have it grow into a love so strong it hurts.
This is not; however, how many love stories end. While I am talking about a
specific love story, this is a story about four great loves…a “quartet of
lovers”; or great love stories if you will. As you read these love stories elements
of your own life and love will become clear. It will be immediately clear for some,
and for others; sadly, it will become a desire to feel the raw emotion from
which the words glide from the page into your own mind and into your dreams…of
lovers lost, and of those hoped for. To this end, I encourage you to first read
this text in it’s entirety on your own, and then share it immediately with the
one. The person of your desires…the one whom you most respect, love and
cherish. The one person in the whole world whom you would like to share every
meal, every last spot of the ground, every adventure in travel, every life
experience…the last ounce of your heart and soul. This is a fictional story
based on fact with strong elements of truth told from four perspectives, but I
encourage you to embrace it and attempt to make it your own. Combine your
enjoyment of perusing the text while sitting on your front porch, candle lit
with a glass of your favorite wine [or summer cocktail]; and then move the
words from the page to your heart with a plan for reckless abandonment in your
current relationship, or the relationship that you dream of while daydreaming. Or
as you fall into a satisfying sleep (hopefully not while reading the words from
these pages). So enjoy this quartet of lovers. I think you will be pleasantly
surprised as a feeling of renewal such as a warm spring day after the rain, or
a long drive as the leaves begin to turn in autumn as you enjoy a quiet ride
with your better-half into the sunset.
The Pearl
(After putting his pregnant wife on one of the last life boats on the Titanic.)
“Pay as you go; and if
you can’t pay, don’t go”
~ Wayne
Henderson Durst, my Grandfather of 92, born March 5, 1922
It is seemingly
appropriate in my opinion to start with a love that has endured the test of
time. This particular one has divided all fears, all consequences, the good and
the bad; and still survived while thriving in a relative pain yet today. This
couple began their successful relationship in 1945, when the man whom I would
call my “real” father returned home from World War II. It has been said that
war changes a man. And while I will have an addendum at the end concerning this
particular issue which is bound tightly to my heart; I want you to know that in
this instance, this man’s heart was changed in a way that can only be described
as eternal humility—praise for all things simply given to us each day by God.
And
to all who have graciously served, I am forever indebted. I know the meaning,
for I myself have served.
They met in Baltimore,
Maryland. This young, yet bustling city was at the time a hub for women who
worked as part of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s (FDR’s) charge to aid our “Freedom
Fighters” abroad. I can think of no other war in history where women played
such and integral role in the success of our efforts on foreign soil. They made
everything from ration cans to tires.
Sadly, our Presidents
since have not had the foresight or the intestinal fortitude to recognize and
appropriately integrate the female workforce as part of the totality of the big
picture. With the independence movement, we have somehow devalued their
services. Personally, I am proud and somewhat satisfied to have my “better-half”
be somewhat independent, so much as she is held in the proper place of respect
within the biblical perspective of the home.
I am a believer in the
“I’m Third” principle. There are two sides to this that I would like to share
with you who have taken the time to enjoy this book. A man is designed; Biblically,
to be the head of the household. This principle can be found in Corinthians; which reads and I quote by divine
intervention, thru God and by Paul (formerly Saul). “ ( ) This is a man that thru God would
change the landscape of how we should approach daily living and move forward in
love with the right by God to diligently embrace our responsibility of “The
Great Commission.”
When I was four, I had
my first experience with travel. It may have been on foot, but it was quite a
way to go at such a young age. My best friend Paul and I were going to see the
bulldozers. We had to make a break for it as we could not allow our parents to
know that we were gone. So we hid behind the large maple tree in my
grandfather’s front lawn until we thought the coast was clear.
We slipped down
Pennsylvania Avenue and across Miller Street. Half a mile away was Main Street
and an intersection where Paul’s grandmother Stella lived. We again had to be
careful not to be seen. We knew that if we could traverse the traffic and begin
up the hill we would soon arrive at the digging site. We managed to get across
Main without getting caught and now we were within minutes of see the
construction site.
Up the hill and a
little to the left was the place where Grantsville Elementary School would be
built. We would both be going there in the fall. I can vaguely remember how
enamored I was with these large earth movers. They were larger than life. As we
watched the dirt being moved, we envisioned what the building would look like.
Besides when I was ready to go to college, this may have been the only time I
can remember that I was excited to go to school. We paid close attention to the
time and finally decided after a bit that it was time to make the journey home.
We made our way back
to Pennsylvania Avenue and down the hill, past Paul’s grandmothers house,
across Main Street and back up the hill toward the large maple tree…hoping to
hide behind it for a few seconds like we were never gone.
As we walked up the
hill toward my grandfather’s house, we were immediately spotted. We knew this
was not going to end well. I can still remember this part like it was
yesterday. My grandfather ushered me by my ear into the house and back a narrow
hallway to the steps which led to the second floor. He sat me down on the first
step and with a finger pointed he said, “Don’t you ever do that again!”
All I wanted to do was
see the bulldozer. We knew we should have asked and we probably would have been
escorted or driven over there by one of our parents, but this was an adventure.
We had struck out on our own with a plan, an agenda, and a short time frame so
as not to get caught.
Despite my scolding, I
was fairly at ease as grandpa was not a strong disciplinarian. He has always
been more like a trusted friend and confident advisor. I guess even then I could
see the error of my ways even before I set out on my journey, but I have always
been one to push the envelope a bit.
When I was seven, I
embarked with my grandparents on my first cross-country trip. We were going to
Kansas. I had stayed overnite with them so we could leave early in the morning.
Suitcase too big to carry; though I tried anyway, we loaded up the purple Grand
Caravan with all the things necessary to make the journey.
I was drawn by the
fact that grandpa’s cousin Casey lived on a huge farm and had horses. It would
be my first time riding a horse and I couldn’t wait to get there. I was going
to just look out the window for the entire trip, so I brought along a sketch
pad. A budding artist at the time, I decided to chronicle the trip in pictures.
My grandfather had decided on a few important stops along the way which I would
have to wait with anticipation until we arrived.
Staying in a hotel as
a young boy is an adventure in itself. So is eating out at every meal. Even
today, I love to travel and find the best of hotels and restaurants. Well known
establishments; or better yet, unknown holes-in-the-wall. It matters not the
place or the price, but it is the experience that matters.
The highlight of our
journey on the way to Kansas was certainly the “Gateway to the West”, or St.
Louis. I could hardly believe that we were going to go nearly 1100-feet in the
air and be able to look over the vast expanse of the city and its surroundings.
I can still remember that my grandmother didn’t think much of the Ferris wheel
like system that ushers you slowly up to the top. Once we were there; however,
it was each of our eyes that were opened to the masterpiece of a landscape that
seems to reach forever. Little did I know that I would be able to return to this
place at the age of twenty-three. When I accepted my first job out of college,
the training classes were held in St. Louis.
On to Kansas. When we
arrived we were welcomed as expected. I remember Casey shaking my hand to greet
me and he had a firm grip. You could also tell he was quite the worker as he
had calloused hands from all the hard work that it takes to run a farm. He had
cows, horses, some chickens and a large barn full of equipment. Immediately my
mind became fixated on learning to ride a horse. I wouldn’t do this on the
first evening, but it was certainly on the agenda.
If my memory serves me
correctly, we stayed in Kansas for about five days. I did learn to ride a horse
and I was also taught how to lasso. I practiced by throwing the rope at a huge
antique barrel of some sort. It had a large base and an hourglass shape at the
top with handles on either side. It was white when originally painted but the
paint had started to chip seemingly almost even from top to bottom and around.
I would practice for hours.
After a few days, it
seemed that I had captured the essence of what it would be like to be a true
cowboy on the range. I did not learn to lasso while riding the horse. I think
maybe some age and a lot more practice would have been necessary.
This was my first
traveling experience and one I will never forget. The journey back home was
somewhat solemn as the end of vacations usually are; especially now as an
adult. To this day my grandfather and I still reminisce from time to time about
the trip.
No comments:
Post a Comment