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Another Perspective

Autumn Passes

Of time and eternity.

T. S. Eliot said, “April is the cruellest month,” but autumn is the most poignant of seasons. Richard Peck’s lovely poem, “The Geese,” captures this sentiment precisely:

My father was the first to hear
The passage of the geese each fall,
Passing above the house so near
He’d hear within his heart their call.

The leaves turn, gorgeous in their variety, color and tone. The cold snap in the air is invigorating after a long summer at this latitude, bringing with it the expectation of winter, gray, without purifying snow, at least in Virginia.

Father suffers a stroke, and mother drifts into a distant mental world. The household of one’s youth will be no more, scattered, existing only in memory. Blessedly, my parents will still be with us for a while longer.

A son-in-law, an Army surgeon, ships out to Iraq leaving behind his wife, our daughter, and a rambunctious brood. Another awaits orders next year for Afghanistan.

A dear friend observes the anniversary of a son’s death. And the list of ailing or departed friends remembered in our prayers grows longer each day.

And then at breakfast time he’d say:
“The geese were heading south last night,”
For he had lain awake till day,
Feeling his earthbound soul take flight

Our children, some well into adulthood, plunge into the life of the mind in college and graduate school, move to a ranch in Wyoming and a job in New York. Again, two daughters keep the home fires burning at military bases down south. Grandchildren are coming, quickly it seems, although most are far away, only one close at hand.

My wife recovers from knee surgery reminding us both of our mortality.

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise.

The house seems too quiet, unusual after three decades of near chaos and energy reverberating throughout. My father, enduring similarly anarchic circumstances in his household, used to say, “The situation is hopeless, but not serious.”

Our old cat, a stray, adopted by our children nineteen years ago, craves our affection, more than we can ever recall. Given the many other warm hands and hearts which used to minister to her needs, she is very demanding of the two of us. My wife swears that the feline misses our dog, a brute five or six times her size, for which she displayed nothing but haughty contempt after he intruded on her domain many years ago. Yet, she seems disoriented after his departure.

Knowing that winter’s wind comes soon
Alter the rushing of those wings,
Seeing them pass before the moon,
Recalling the lure of faroff things.

Career, politics, getting and spending — unhealthy preoccupations for too many years — seems to recede further and further, less and less a part of consciousness except for a few jarring episodes and very few epiphanies. Faith, family, friends, work and love — all these are now foremost in one’s thoughts.

Thinking back over the decades, the following passage from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, seemed a very hard teaching back in the halcyon days of prep school. Now it reads like self-evident truth, a consoling one at that:

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About the Author

G. Tracy Mehan, III served at the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency in the administrations of both Presidents Bush. He is a consultant in Arlington, Virginia, and an adjunct professor at George Mason University School of Law.

Letter to the Editor View all comments (11) |

J.A. Davis| 11.26.08 @ 12:07PM

This is a really wonderful piece. Thanks Mr. Mehan. And, thanks to the Spectator.

Alan Brooks| 11.26.08 @ 12:36PM

ditto.
By the by, the conservative loss wasn't Nov. 4th, it was when William F. Buckley died last winter.
Autumn-winter reminds us of the loss of the patrimony.

David Govett| 11.28.08 @ 1:18AM

The irony is that the 21st century will see the death of death, or at least its indefinite postponement. Contemplating the 137 million centuries of nothing that preceded me and the billions that await, I murmur "Faster, biotechnologists, faster!"

BKR| 11.29.08 @ 11:22AM

Three words describe what is contained in this article: Truth, Beauty, Wisdom.

Thank you.

Alan Brooks| 11.30.08 @ 9:24PM

Mr. Govett,
Transhumanism offers great peril too.
Messing with our genes is risky business, you'd better know what you're doing

Alan Brooks| 11.30.08 @ 11:11PM

David Govett doesn't realize that brave new world wasn't just the title of a book.

David Govett| 12.1.08 @ 1:36AM

Nature has given us both the desire and the brains to survive beyond our design. We have done so for more than a century. Is that wrong? Why deny nature's purpose? It's easy to speak of accepting death in the abstract, when one is young and healthy. When one lies abed in a hospital, saying final goodbyes to one's children, it's another thing altogether. Who among you would not wish for more time? Do I espy the hypocrite among you?

Alan Brooks| 12.1.08 @ 2:52AM

as a matter of fact I'm interested in transhumanism (let's give it a name, Dave), uploading; even posthumanism. but H+ will give us more to squabble about, you know, who lives longer and who gets what resources to pay for those lifespans
oh just look at the teeth on those libertarian transhumanist barracudas!

More Articles by G. Tracy Mehan, III

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http://spectator.org/archives/2008/11/26/autumn-passes

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