It is late autumn at the Falls of the Ohio and soon all the leaves will be gone having succumbed to the wind, rain, and frost. For now, there is still color and it is during this transitory moment within the season that the memories of past loved ones comes to my mind and heart. I was walking along the riverbank recently and thinking about my grandfather and so I created this story for him out of thanks, sticks, and river-worn Styrofoam!
Perhaps it’s the shimmer and play of light upon the water that helps those who have gone before to communicate with the living? I can picture him now, very tall and very thin and neatly dressed with his fancy bow-tie. Because he took an interest in me as a boy, I in return have never forgotten him. My grandfather was not a particular eloquent man, but as the saying goes and there is truth in this…actions do speak louder than words.
Grandpa or Opa as I sometimes called him loved to tend his small flower garden. In the heart of the old city this was how he kept his connection to the soil. And because his garden was tiny it was also precious and everything that happened in it took on added significance. When a new flower bloomed …that was a cause for celebration as were the times when some new never before seen bird would alight in the yard even for the briefest of moments. All these little events were full of meaning to my grandfather and now I see that I inherited this ability too. Finding wonder when life is at its most mundane is a true gift.
When I was a very small boy my Opa would put me upon his shoulders and give me a unique perspective on the world. He moved along the city’s canals so easily and I was able to take in all that was going on around me. I would describe him as being a patient person, but there were some things he found difficult to tolerate.
Perhaps at the top of his list was injustice. He had lived during the hard times of a world war when his city was occupied. He had witnessed and experienced how his fellow human beings could be callous and cruel to each other. When the war ended and prosperity returned, it bothered Grandpa to see how the very land itself was treated with little regard. He knew about the magic that could happen even in the smallest plot of dirt. To treat the ground as a garbage can is an injustice to the earth.
Our walks together were always learning opportunities and this was fun for me. Grandpa seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of the living things around him. He said that life was so interesting that he needed to know about it, but that he was alright too when there were no answers. He also found contentment in the mystery of it all and that somehow it fit together and worked. His true position in life was balanced between the twin poles of knowing and not knowing. It was important to remain open to recognize and receive wisdom when it did come his way.
If my Grandfather could see what is happening with our treatment of the environment…I know it would upset him. Before the war (which was bad enough) there was also a world-wide depression. To get by and make ends meet, everything that could be reused and repurposed was. People even knew how to fix and repair things because they had to if they were going to have anything extra at all. Creativity and thrift were virtues because they were survival skills. Nothing was thrown away without careful consideration. Now economies are based on mass consumption and disposability and something else has been lost in the process.
Grandpa told me that if we didn’t take care of all our precious resources, then we were in danger of losing ourselves. The more we change the land, the more it changes us and that our ultimate fate is intertwined with what happens in the real world. Here on the banks of the Ohio River my Grandfather’s concerns have come back to me. Now I am a father and someday I too may become a grandparent. During my lifetime, I would like to feel that we can be reawakened to the needs of the planet so that we could build towards the most positive and healthy future possible.
Artist at Exit 0 Riverblog 
Your Opa was a great man and as you remember him he lives on in what you do.
Yes, so much is built from what came before and there is poetry in this. We should all pass on the good we have learned from the world before departing.
What a great legacy your Grandpa left you and one that you can pass on to your own children and theirs. The gift of observing, appreciating and doing something about the environment is a great one:-) You are so right about the make do and mend generation – my Nana was the same and very careful and thrifty. I hate waste myself and was brought up not to do it. This has contributed to my ‘hoarding’ habit though lol!
Another great post and a lovely commemoration to your Opa!
I’m a hoarder too! One reason I moved my art to the river was to try to rectify that, but alas, I found myself bringing the river back home with me. If I never set foot again on the banks of the Ohio…my basement contains enough material to keep going for awhile. I know I have removed more than my share of “potential art materials” from the environment. Thanks for your nice comments.
Love this piece, Al. Reminded me of a few things about my own grandfathers—the one had a very small yard on the South Side of Chicago–but he made it into a tiny Garden of Eden. The soil smelled WONDERFUL. The other grandfather developed odd relationships with resident squirrels who would come to the kitchen window demanding –of all things–oreo cookies–or whatever other pastry my grandmother had created. Two very different connections to nature but—connections nonetheless.
Thank you for another wonderful river adventure.
ps. O so like how the cup provides a sense of scale.
Eva, It makes me wonder if our grandparents were just better connected to the earth than we even realize? Generational drift has produced an alienation and forgetfullness?
Well, Al, this summer I had an interesting evening with a bunch of 20 something year old young people. At one point I polled them for how many had ever gardened or eaten anything out of a ‘home garden’. Of the group of about 30, only about 5 ever had this experience–which I consider pretty fundamental. From listening to them I gathered it was more a lack of opportunity than lack of interest or want.
As for grandparents–well–nowadays I doubt most people would bury someone suffering from polio in a hole in the ground as was done to my grandfather. He recovered. I suspect that had quite an effect on him.
Okay Eva…what’s the story about polio and the hole in the ground? That sounds bizarre. As for experiences with young people…I have had a few with younger artists and while this is a generalization, there is also a kernel of truth in this observation. It occurs to me that there isn’t the same interest or need to know what came before. I’ve run into younger artists who didn’t know who Rembrandt is but could tell you who appeared in Juxtapose magazine three months ago. Everything else worth knowing can be retrieved using a smart phone. I see as a result of this, at least in their art, that there is a lack of recognition of what is original and worth pursuing.
Al–regarding the polio ‘hole in the ground’—okay, this was pre-WWI when my relatives were still living between both the states and Poland. I don’t have much information beyond the fact that as a child my grandfather contracted polio, the doctors stateside did all they could, and his parents took him back to Poland and the ‘doctors’ there resorted to burying the child up to his neck in the earth. I don’t know if the soil itself had certain properties or if it had to do with using ‘pressure’ in a certain way or what. I do know that my grandfather ‘recovered’ fully. Wish I could share more but those in the know have passed onto to other adventures long ago. But, it was he himself who told me this. Make of it what you ‘can’ if you have any friends who might have some ideas about it.
I agree about the young artists.
What a wonderful tribute to your Grandfather and all our grandparents before us. I say that with true sincerity because you tied a bit of history into this, also. The idea of passing on gifts from one generation to another emphasizes who we should be thinking about as we make our personal choices in regards to the environment. This post also makes me mindful of those things I wish to pass on to my Granddaughter. Thanks, Al.
You are welcome Leslie and thank you for your comment. Walking the riverbank, it occured to me that this trash I’m finding will be part of our legacy…but it wasn’t always this way too.