Day: July 26, 2023

Grandfather and the Honey Bees

The last time I ever saw and spoke with my Grandfather in 1992, he was 98 years old. His mind was ravaged by Dementia and his kidneys were failing. Yet, all he could talk about that day were his bees. He wasn’t making much sense about anything else, but for some reason that day he had the bees on his mind. You see, he had been a beekeeper almost all of his life, and he was worried about them. Very worried.

As far back as I can remember there were always bee hives surrounding his old two storied clapboard house. They were not out in some distant field somewhere. They were within feet of the front porch, resting on large flat rocks that Grandpa had brought down behind a mule from near the top of “Johnny” Mountain which loomed tall just across Uncle Lark’s corn field straight out in front of the home place.

They were neat little white painted wooden boxes, with another one of the flat rocks on top. Simplicity in design beyond today’s comprehension, but workable nonetheless. I used to be mesmerized as a child watching these tireless workers fly in and out, and in and out of the little hole cut in the bottom of the wooden box, which served as their one entrance and exit from the hive. I could watch them for hours on end and never tire of the wonderment of their movements and the soliloquy of their buzzing symphony.

They would zip around my head as I sat on the front porch swing, and I once made the mistake of swatting one of them when he got too close. Not only did I get a sting from the bee, but a lecture from Grandpa. “They won’t hurt you, if you don’t hurt them first” he said. “They’re out helpers, and you gotta let ‘em be” I had to take this advice literally, coming from a man who more often than not would rob a hive of bees wearing no extra clothing besides a heavy pair of leather gloves. He talked to them as he took out the honey, telling them he was leaving enough for them to survive the winter. Talked and hummed all the while.

But late that afternoon in 1992 he was worried about them.

“Will you take care of the bees this year?” he asked “I just don’t think I will be up to it”

“And mind you, don’t swat none of them, we need them every one”

“Sure Grandpa” I answered. “I’ll take care of them”

Now we are looking at the very real prospect that something is very wrong with our Honey bees. The populations are disappearing, and with them the possibility of apple and peach trees that don’t get pollinated, corn fields and soy bean crops that may be lost, perennials that may not bloom again. How important these creatures, who we hardly ever notice, unless they sting us, really are to our society. If they were all to disappear today, would humanity survive? We may find out unless the energies of our government and scientist hone in on what it is exactly that is making them disappear.

I remember nothing so well as the sweet taste of the fresh harvested honeycomb, and how the honey would drip from the edges of my mouth when I bit into it. I would hate for my grandchildren and their grandchildren to never have that chance. I personally feel like I have let my Grandpa down because when I spoke with him that day in 1992, I thought it was just the ramblings of an errant mind, and I didn’t think anymore about it.

But Grandpa knew how important these insects were. “They’re our helpers, we need them everyone” he had said.

We certainly do, and all of us had better realize it before it’s too late.

From a comment I made in a post a year ago today:

I’m a work in progress. My thoughts, my beliefs and my dreams for my children and grandchildren are vastly different than those of a large percentage of our section of the country…and a lot of the rest of the country.

I used to like to think that my differences with a lot of people were just on a few issues, and that we had common beliefs in many other issues. I am not so sure of that anymore. I believe now that a vast segment of our country believes in a whole different set of morals for themselves and people “like them” which they don’t relegate to those “who are not like them”. They believe that their leaders can be immoral and cruel, but still be a “good leader” as long as their leaders stick to certain beliefs that they agree with.

I don’t think that good can come from bad.

“I don’t believe any prosperity which comes from evil can be permanent.”

These are my beliefs and my opinions, which I have pulled from deep inside of me. I try to keep myself isolated from people with those other beliefs, even though I like….even love many of them. I do this for my peace of mind and stability….not theirs. I believe that they believe they are right. Perhaps they are, but I don’t have to be a part of it, and it makes me uncomfortable and feel hypocritical to associate myself with those folks in a social situation, when our beliefs are obviously so different.

Politics used to be about differences in political stances. Now it’s moved to being about much more than that. It’s about life itself, and how people are supposed to live it. I believe in tolerance, diversity, empathy and open mindedness. That’s the opposite of many people.

Much of what I write is written to me.

When I write of love and being positive and hopeful, I am speaking to myself, because most days it is hard to be that type of person. So, I talk to myself about the things I need to do and how I need to interact with other human beings.

But, it is so hard. It’s becoming harder every day. It’s difficult to care. But the sun will come up tomorrow and the sun will set.

We have all seen them. Those beautiful Sunrises. If you’ve been a friend of mine on social media for any amount of time you’ve seen plenty of pictures of sunrises which I thought were beautiful.

Those mornings when the light turns dozens of colors behind a scant screen of clouds. Everything from muted purples to magenta, to bright blood red. How does a beautiful Sunrise make you feel?

For me the beginning of the day, which is signified by that marvelous sunrise, symbolizes a daily rebirth. A new beginning, a time when everything is new again and all options for doing things wonderful, useful, loving, and kind are open. It renews my soul. It tells me in no uncertain terms that I am alive, and that I have been treated to the sight of some of the most beautiful colors in nature. I so appreciate life and the chance to live it. To experience other people, people who I love and who love me. To touch another person, even to simply shake hands, or to brush back the hair of my daughter or sons, my grandchildren, or my wife from their foreheads is an experience that I will only get to enjoy once in that instance. Just once in that instance, and I will remember. Those moments….will never happen again, just like the moments in the pictures I take. Those photos are a frozen moment in time which will never happen again. There may be other instances, other chances…but there may not.

I can taste food for another day and hear music. I don’t really even care what kind most of the time…I generally like it all. I get the privilege of talking and interacting with other people, most of the time in a positive manner. All of this starts with the beautiful Sunrise that I saw when I walked around the ordinary neighborhood today.

Then there are the stupendous Sunsets. I look out my back door at them often, and take photos that don’t do justice towards how beautiful they really look.

How does a gentle sunset make you feel?

The colors are a similar palette as was the Sunrise, but the feelings are different. Day is leaving. I feel peaceful. I feel content. My tasks for the day are done and I am “heading towards the house” to rest, like a horse to the barn. I hear the word to “taps” playing gently in my head frequently:

“Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.”

Many times in the past I was headed towards my home from work, to my familiar place, my territory. I had accomplished all I could during the day and I was satisfied. Maybe I should have tried to do more, I feel that way practically every day. But in the awesome light of the Sunset I felt happy…. tired but happy. I knew I would be glad to get home, and see the ones that I love. My tasks that others would have me do were over. I would eventually lay down that night, and rest my weary body, happy to have seen another day on this Earth. Happy to dream whatever dreams that arose.

Life and Death are like the sunrise and sunset. Both are beautiful in their own way, similar, yet vastly different. It’s what happens in between, what we….make happen in between, that forms the legacy of our lives. It’s the appreciation mixed with sorrow, of getting to see the sunrises and sunsets of other peoples lives that hopefully will make us appreciate our own and be less afraid of the final sunset that we all must come to one day. Not melancholy, but happy to have shined and to have enjoyed being in the light. I know I am. I’m glad I have cared.

We all fear the unknown, and not knowing what’s on the other side of that last Sunset is scary. Even to those who are secure in their beliefs and solid in their convictions. I experience that fear, we all probably do when we think about it. But I believe the spark within us that makes us what we are goes on and on, and we are meant to all be together again. I’m not exactly sure how. I’ll never know exactly how until it’s too late to write it down on a page, or take a photo of it.

So, here I have again, added to those many soliloquies I have written to myself but shared with others.

I hope you don’t mind.