The world is full of complicated and thorny problems. Perhaps it’s fitting that on Father’s Day Tom and I bought and brought home our own private potful–a tiny saguaro cactus (carnegiea gigantea)–from the Desert Botanical Garden.
Despite their prickly nature and my aversion to being stabbed by sharp objects, in my first three years of Arizona residency, I’ve come to feel comfort from the surrounding saguaro cacti. If you follow my blog, you know that. I’ve posted photos and a few poems about this fatherly tree-like species that is native to the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and Mexico.
Saguaros grow slowly. Our little guy … let’s call him Sammy Saguaro … stands no more than six inches tall, yet he’s probably at least ten or fifteen years old. They can grow to be forty to sixty feet in height and live one-hundred-and-fifty to two-hundred years.
Of course, I’ll never see Sammy grow into that stature, but I’m happy to watch him develop slowly. I like the idea of his anticipated longevity. Especially in this age of COVID-19, it’s good to remind ourselves of the long arc of life … where we were, how far we’ve come, how many setbacks we’ve endured, how far we hope to grow in the future.
Like in the 1990s, when my mother would measure the heights of Nick and Kirk against the side of her St. Louis pantry door when we visited from Chicago. She knew her grandsons would grow and go places. She wanted to mark their progress, see the smiles on their faces when they saw how far they’d advanced since the previous pencil marking. Since the previous visit. So did I.
I still feel that way about my sons. Even though they are now in their thirties and fully grown physically, I can see them slowly expanding their reach. Stretching toward the sky in an uncertain world a little at a time.
Each time I talk with one of them over the phone, I realize how far they have come. How far they have to go. That’s what it means to be a father. That’s also why it’s important that Sammy is standing outside our back door.
In this vein of remembering and marking growth, in spite of the pain of 2020, I’m reminded of an historic moment that occurred five years ago. This is what I wrote in From Fertile Ground on June 29, 2015 from Mount Prospect, Illinois.
In the scheme of things, it marked a remarkable, sharp, positive turn in our nation’s complicated history. One I’ll never forget. One I hope is never rescinded.
It’s a cool and wet June morning. In our front yard, the sparrows are fighting for position to pluck seeds from the perch of our bird feeder, dangling from a branch of our river birch. On our deck in the back, the first orange blossom of the summer has appeared and opened on our hibiscus tree. More color, more beauty, more promise.
I’ve been feeling more joyful since last Friday when the Supreme Court ruled same-sex couples can now be married in all fifty states. This is a civil rights triumph of monumental proportions. For gay people everywhere in the United States–and for future generations who will be born into a more open society–there is now the same equal opportunity to marry the person they love.
The day after the Supreme Court’s landmark decision, our friends Greg and Dan were married in Chicago. They had planned their marriage ceremony months ago to coincide with their twenty-fifth anniversary of when they became a couple. It was a boat ride on Lake Michigan with family and close friends.
Tom and I held hands on the top deck of the boat as we listened to them exchange their vows on a windswept-slightly cool but sunny Chicago afternoon. There were happy tears and raucous cheers for Greg and Dan, of course. It was their day and a long time in coming. But it was also our day to mark the occasion of a sharp positive turn in our nation’s complicated history.
Perhaps President Barack Obama best captured the spirit of this giant step forward immediately after the June 26, 2015 Supreme Court ruling. Appearing in the White House Rose Garden, he said:
This ruling is a victory for America. This decision affirms what millions of Americans already believe in their hearts. When all Americans are treated equal, we are all more free.
8 thoughts on “The Long Arc of Life”
I always look forward to your writing, Mark and hope that one day I can paint such beautiful scenes with words just like you. Life isn’t predictable and the solutions we often seek doesn’t arrive on our doorstep nicely wrapped. If there’s one thing I’ve learned living in isolation for so many weeks – someday isn’t an actual day of the week. I wanna take action to wake up my conscious mind and embracing the power of taking small steps. Thanks for sharing and have a good day 😀 Aiva
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Thank you, Aiva! I love your philosophy. Small steps forward each day. This horrible period will pass. All the best to you. I appreciate your kind words about my writing. It is my sanctuary in good times and bad.
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Won’t it be wonderful when a president speaks like that again–and doesn’t call anyone a ‘loser.’
Yes, it will be so sweet, Jeff.
Mark, your writings are a light in these dark times. Many thanks. Hugs to you and Tom. Carol
On Thu, Jun 25, 2020 at 11:45 AM Mark Johnson Stories wrote:
> Mark Johnson posted: ” The world is full of complicated and thorny > problems. Perhaps it’s fitting that on Father’s Day Tom and I bought and > brought home our own private potful–a tiny saguaro cactus (carnegiea > gigantea)–from the Desert Botanical Garden. Despite their prickl” >
Thank you, Carol! We are doing well here. Take care, my friend.
That little saguaro is a fitting addition to your desert garden. It will give you many years of smiles and comfort.
We sure have come through a lot. Let’s hope our country keeps growing and moving forward.
Yes, we have endured a lot. I’m ready for a new era of goodness.