Stepping Stones...

Stepping Stones…

It’s funny how things happen.

I have been looking, for a couple of months, for something my older brother wrote. Half-hearted attempts yielded nothing. And today, for no apparent reason, I thought of another place to search. In less than a minute, the object of my search was in my hands.

Bound in a plastic spiral, with a clear plastic cover, it is the self-published history of my family, as collected and annotated by my elder brother. It was written and presented to me and to my “baby brother” fifteen and a half years ago.

And today, I finally read it.

He and I are not close. In fact, I haven’t seen him since we scattered my daddy’s ashes in the Pacific Ocean a dozen years ago. I last talked to him about four years ago when I needed instruction on how to repair the plaster in my living room. When I called him, he didn’t recognize my voice.

The “voice” I read today was not the bully who spent hours each day antagonizing his little sister. I was expecting something very scholarly and dry. What I found was a man who is my brother and has written an accurate and folksy accounting of where we came from, revealing, perhaps, more of himself than of any other.

The story covers an incredible eleven hundred years of family history. And names, lots of names, such as Thomas, Silas, Keziah, Phoebe and George Mortimer. And lots of places from Denmark to England to New Hampshire, Connecticut and New York. And lots of wars, including the Crusades and both sides of the Civil War.

He goes on to share letters that have been saved, from one member of the family to another. Pleasant letters designed to keep families in contact with each other. And hand-written lists of who was related to whom.

And in a gesture that was unlike the older brother I remembered, he included a very thoughtful poem, which I will share with you:

"Isn’t it strange how princes and kings

And clowns that sport in sawdust rings

And common folks like you and me

Are builders to eternity.

To each is given a book of rules

A block of stone and a bag of tools

And each must build ‘ere life be flown

A stumbling block or a stepping stone."

(Anonymous, English)

I think it’s time to call him again…..