Two lives, two models for living well however long we have
April 06, 2022
Delavan, Ill. -- As some of my extended family gathered here recently to celebrate the wonderful reality that my late father's brother Lawrence (pictured here with me) has reached age 100 but acts like he's about 60, I was trying to process the memorial service I had attended by Zoom a few days earlier for Jim Lippold (pictured below), a childhood friend who hadn't yet died.
Jim, dying of cancer, decided to put together a celebration of his life so he could attend. And he did. Those of us not near him in Washington state gathered via Zoom from across the country on a Wednesday.
Three days later, on the same Saturday we were celebrating Uncle Lawrence Tammeus' 100th, Jim breathed his final breath. His brother Bob, with whom I graduated from high school, was in the next room while Pam, a dear neighbor of Jim's, was with him as he left.
So Jim, a terrific social worker with a degree in behavioral science, died three months shy of his 74th birthday while Lawrence, a terrific farmer and Army veteran, so far has hit the century mark, each having lived generative lives of grace, hope, commitment and beauty.
Mere numbers don't provide a lot of help in thinking about what all this means, but they do provide at least a little perspective. Jim and Lawrence, human beings who never met, each was what the Dalai Lama likes to remind all of us that we are: "one of seven billion."
Since he began saying that, however, seven billion has become 7.9 billion and is expected to hit 8 billion next year. In his book, From Strength to Strength, Arthur C. Brooks makes note of the Dalai Lama quote and then adds: "By this, he does not mean that I am insignificant or just like everyone else. Rather, he is encouraging me to zoom out from my narrow, earthbound perspective on my life, my work, my relationships, my money."
That's a good practice. And I was reminded of that not only by some of Jim's friends who spoke, as did I, at his celebration of life, but also by catching up with various relatives at Lawrence's party. Only occasionally do second cousins once removed cross my mind. But they're out there living sometimes-beautiful and sometimes-difficult lives. Mostly, of course, I'm focused on me and my immediate family and their needs, joys and struggles.
What I need to remember is that there's a bigger picture, that my perspective is inevitably too narrow, that although each life is of inestimable worth, few lives, including my own, are mine to control. I can only live my life in a way that I hope will be instructive and inspirational to others.
But I can learn from both Jim and Lawrence. For instance, just a few months before he died, Jim wrote this to his Facebook friends: "I'm happy. This may sound crazy or impossible coming from a dying man, but it's true. . .I'm studying and reading about death and dying from mostly a Buddhist perspective, but generally spiritually and philosophically. My intention is to have a good death."
In some way, maybe I can be like Jim, who in the Vietnam era was a conscientious objector, no easy position to take in our small, almost-all-white, heavily Republican hometown of Woodstock, Ill.
And in some way, maybe I can be like Lawrence, who farmed the land that his own grandfather, an immigrant from Germany, had acquired in the 1880s and that Lawrence's father had farmed before him.
And while he was doing that he and his wife Velma were rearing three children and being stalwart members of their church, in the choir of which Lawrence sang for at least six decades, resulting in the award you see pictured here.
Even the longest human life is, compared with the 13.8-billion-year-old universe, fleeting. But that doesn't mean it is insignificant or meaningless. It means that, like flowers, like music, it is impermanent but can be beautiful.
The lives of Jim and Uncle Lawrence remind me to spend what little time I have well, to bring some joy and insight and laughter into the lives of others, to love even when loving is difficult.
Maybe I'll print this post out and paste it on the mirror in the bathroom so I don't forget what Jim and Lawrence have been trying to teach me.
Oh, and if you see a 100-year-old man cruising around Delavan, Ill., in his green Corvette, ask Lawrence if you can hop in for a ride. You won't forget it.
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GRASPING WHAT RAMADAN CAN TEACH ALL OF US
Muslims around the globe began celebrating their holy month of Ramadan this past Saturday. What can those of us who aren't Muslim learn from this month of fasting and sacrifice? This article from The Guardian offers some ideas. The author, a school teacher in London, writes this: "It is a common misconception that Ramadan is all about food. In truth, it is about starving the body to feed the soul. By temporarily depriving our bodies of what they need, we forge room for spirituality and introspection, generosity and discipline, to blossom in its place." And it's precisely those qualities that can help us stand for the common good and against radicalism of any kind.